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galaxytastes · 3 months ago

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soft landings in cecilias

in which Kaeya is romanced, whether he likes it or not.

Hey friends, here is my fanfic for the Kaebedo Big Bang 2024! Please let me know if you enjoy. A beautiful artwork by @vanazealice was made for this too, which I will be linking. Enjoy!!

Words: 6104 Tags: Fluff, love confessions, first kiss, more fluff

VanazeAlice art on twt! https://x.com/VanazeAlice/status/1832435834353807802

The energy in Mondstadt city is always somewhat warm. As the beating heart of the nation of freedom, the bustling town presents itself as welcome to most, open to all. Like the statue that peeks over the walls that hug the jovial city, Barbatos and his hands cupped together, facing the sun; you are safe to land here, you are welcome to fly away. The entire premise of such a place strikes deeply with many residents. None more than Kaeya Alberich. Kaeya would not go as far as to call himself patriotic, by any means. Referring to himself as a Mondstadt civilian still feels like a long stretch, but it is days like this where the stretch between him and this place he is meant to call home feels a bit closer. That is mostly thanks to a certain charming alchemist and his pyromaniac of a sister.

Kaeya crosses one long leg over the other, leaning his weight onto his elbows behind him as he pretends not to desperately search for that certain other-former-outlander who will be joining him today. Like the picture of grace, he turns his tanned face up to the late morning sun and forces himself not to fidget with his gloves.

“I hope you’re aware of how strange you look.”

The captain doesn’t move to look at his friend and instead glares at her from the corner of his eyes. Rosaria looks disgusted, her pale nose scrunched, and her lean arms crossed over her chest. He smirks and shakes his head, dismissive of her judgment.

“Oh, you hurt me, Rosaria. Though, I don’t think it is fair to call me strange when you are standing next to me, doing essentially the same thing.” Kaeya’s voice is a fabricated song; one of confidence and arrogance. One that speaks nothing of the anxious but excited swirling feeling in his stomach, like a waltzing whirlwind. She doesn’t humor his cheeky tone, instead rolling her rose-colored eyes.

“I’m not the one posing on the bridge like the princess of Windblume. If the goal was to look natural, I’d give you a failing grade, Alberich.” Rosaria carefully hoists herself up onto the ridge, turning away towards the entrance of the bridge. So judgmental, so jealous! Kaeya tells himself that while chuckling at her teasing.

Without the forceful pressure of her piercing stare, Kaeya feels his shoulders relax a bit. Waiting for his friend, no, his date… It has proven to be a lot more nerve-wracking than the man expected. Kaeya has spent multiple Windblumes in the company of the chief alchemist, but never as anything more than co-workers. It took the two men years to settle on the term ‘friends’. Friends who visit each other weekly, who leave one another gifts or flowers. Friends who care for the young crimson knight together, taking her to the lake, to the mountain, to stargaze. Friends who steal glances from across the room, touch hands under the table… the definition of friends has been blurred beyond recognition at this point.

Kaeya worries his lower lip as he recalls approaching Albedo after a knight’s meeting, hands stuffed into his pockets to hide his restless fidgeting. It was impulsive and took quite a bit of pacing back and forth the night before. He thought of every way it could go wrong, every last negative scenario. What if he laughs at me? What if he already has a date? Or worse, what if he actually says yes? Every bad outcome was better than the building, terrifying feeling of yearning that claws at his chest. When Kaeya finally found the courage and confidence to ask Albedo, the answer was so simple. “Yes.” The alchemist’s wide clear eyes blinked up at Kaeya, who had so kindly sat himself directly on the table in front of him. Such a simple answer to a question Kaeya had been thinking about for hours the night before. He asked once more, enunciating the word ‘date’ as if Albedo perhaps had missed it. Again, the simple yet pleasant answer was bounced right back at him. “Yes, Kaeya.”

A goofy smile plays on his lips as Kaeya leans further into the stone railing, thinking more about those bright, clear eyes and that logical but sweet tone. Oh, to admire himself in the reflection of those eyes… perhaps to even see him smiling back.

“Kaeya?”

“Hm?” The knight gives a soft hum, lost in his daydream of spring water eyes and rare alchemist smiles.

“Kaeya.” Rosaria’s voice beside him rings out, both close yet still so far away. “I feel embarrassed for you now, this is ridiculous.” She sounds annoyed now. Well, again. She sounds annoyed again. Still jealous, perhaps? Kaeya finally pulls himself from his daydream and opens his mouth to chastise his friend but his jaw snaps shut when he finds himself gawking at the chief alchemist himself. Albedo gives him a little wave with his free hand, as his other hand is being occupied by the crimson knight herself who has been screaming his name for who knows how long. Kaeya chuckles and waves back, willing his heart to slow down. It's a date; just a date.

“Kaeya! Mr. Kaeya! It’s Klee! I’m here now!” The tiny knight shouts as she sprints away from her sibling, colliding into Kaeya’s legs. Before her little limbs can wrap around him to latch on, the man reaches down to scoop her up into his arms to give her a proper big hug. Klee erupts with giggles as she squeezes him tight, snuggling herself into the crook of his neck like a little cat.

“My goodness, Klee, I take it you missed me?” Kaeya laughs as he pats the back of her hair. She pulls back, legs still tightly wrapped around him, nodding so hard that her big hat nearly flops off. “So much. Klee always misses Kaeya. You should never be busy! Never. Only busy with me!” Klee sings the last sentence while wiggling herself out of his hold to rush back to her brother’s side. Albedo sighs and shakes his head, his blonde bangs puffing up a bit from his forehead with the exhale.

“I am saying this all the time, Klee. How dare Sir Kaeya have responsibilities outside of us, hm?” Finally, Albedo steps close enough so that Kaeya can properly greet him too. “Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s good to see you, captain.”

Kaeya swallows hard, quietly hoping the sound isn’t too loud or too obvious. This will be a long day.

“Well, that's my cue to get the hell out of here.” Rosaria stands up straight and brushes the palms of her hands over her hips. She gives Kaeya a knowing look and bumps him softly with her elbow. “Try to keep it together, loverboy. I’ll see you around.”

The tips of Kaeya’s ears burn and he rolls his eyes, shooing the woman off of him which earns him a chuckle from her. Rosaria turns and nods politely to Albedo and gives Klee a tiny wave goodbye before slipping into the passing crowd, scurrying off to hide somewhere quiet where she can lurk in peace.

“Well. How about we head inside and enjoy the festivities together, yes?” Kaeya turns to his date and their mini-plus one, stretching out his arm in front of them to lead the way into the city. Klee jumps with excitement and shouts something about flowers before running ahead. He takes that as a yes.

“Yes, please.” Albedo steps closer to Kaeya, so close he can feel his breath when he speaks the next words softer. “I’m ready to enjoy our date.”

Kaeya gawks while awkwardly trying to form a coherent response. He rarely finds himself at a loss for words, yet here he is; struck mute. Albedo smirks before he turns to follow his sister through the decorated gates. He takes a moment to stare ahead, eyes locked on the back of Albedo’s smug head. Kaeya is supposed to be the charming one, he’s supposed to be the one making others blush and stutter. Before he gets too lost in his thoughts, the red-cheeked knight trots after them, suppressing another goofy smile.

Once he steps through the wide-open arch of Mondstadt, Kaeya can truly get a sense of Windblume. The man lets out a low whistle while he comes to a stop next to his date, resting a hand on his hip as he observes the beautiful view. The front entrance is lined with flower boxes, welcoming residents and visitors from afar. Teal and white ribbons hug around each box, matching the bows that adorn the many cecilia wreaths. Garlands of white flowers, accented with teal and soft blues, hang low and high over the entrance and into the main area of town. Kaeya once found all of this intimidating. He has always stuck out like a sore thumb; a weed amongst the cecilia blossoms. Always afraid of being uprooted from the bunch, he has made great effort to blend in with the others; but standing next to Albedo, it feels so much less intimidating. The blonde is gentle as he guides Klee to the flower stand, one hand secure on her back as the other one adjusts the hat on her head. He radiates an elegance and softness that is from somewhere far from Mondstadt, far from everything. Kaeya silently thanks Barbatos for letting weeds grow freely among the cecilias.

“Albedo! We’re over here!” A familiar voice calls out from the other side of Flora’s stand. Kaeya and his companion turn to find Jean smiling brightly with Lisa at her side. The acting grandmaster waves her hand over her head, the slightest bit of concern in her eyes; as always. Meanwhile, Lisa twinkles her fingers with a curious look in her eyes, as leisurely as ever. Klee takes off like a startled crystal fly and launches herself at Jean, earning her giggles from everyone nearby watching. Kaeya winces and quickly strides to his coworker's side, apologetically reaching for his little knight companion.

“Ah, hey! She’s in a really good mood today, I apologize for the ambush… Klee, you shouldn’t run off like that, silly.” Kaeya feels Albedo’s hand on his arm and his skin burns where his cool hand touches but he does his best to keep it together.

Jean shakes her head and picks up Klee, hugging her to her side as Lisa giggles. Not understanding the laughs, Kaeya’s brows knit together, but Albedo quickly clears up any confusion. He squeezes Kaeya’s arm and he looks up at the taller man, eyes wide and bright as always.

“Lisa and Jean offered to watch her for us. For our date. I thought it would be nice to have some time alone.” He speaks so matter of fact, Kaeya can’t help but grin. Suddenly, Lisa’s teasing stare makes a lot more sense.

“Sorry, Klee, it looks like your brother wants to hog me all for himself. Such a selfish boy!” Kaeya teases as Albedo narrows his eyes at him.

“You two have fun, you’ve both earned some time off. We’re gonna have fun today, right Klee!” Jean bounces Klee in her arms, jiggling another squeal of delight out of the girl. Albedo smiles fondly and reaches over to squeeze her little hand. Kaeya doesn’t miss the way his small smile strains as he speaks low to his sibling.

“Behave, Klee. For me, hm? Be a good girl for Master Jean and Miss Lisa.” The shorter man raises his eyebrows at Klee, a silent look of gentle authority, as he gives her hand one final squeeze. “No bombs, little miss.”

“You’re no fun…” Klee pouts and crosses her arms while Albedo tries and fails to hide a chuckle. “Go have fun, love birds. Us girls will have plenty of fun without you, I suggest you two go do the same.” Lisa says with another giggle and a tiny wave goodbye. Jean joins in the waving while she scolds her companion with a hiss as she hands Klee off to her.

With Klee gone, the reality of the situation slowly starts to hit Kaeya. Not only is he now alone with Albedo, he is intentionally alone with him. This is nothing like their work meetings, where they always end up sitting side by side. It is nothing like the times they’ve passed each other during perimeter survey in Dragonspine. All those times, Kaeya could pretend his interest in the other was simply platonic. Just coworkers, maybe friends, never more. Yet, here he stands just inches away from the blonde, and not even he could lie about his interest. As if Albedo can read his mind or sense his overthinking, he reaches over to take hold of Kaeya’s arm. With all the charm of a practiced flirt, the shorter man links his arm to Kaeya’s and tugs him forward. Kaeya’s eye widens and then crinkles with a smile as he lets the other drag him along.

“You’re right, you know.” Albedo is looking forward, leading them up the wide stairs of town. It’s hard for Kaeya to look anywhere other than at Albedo, so he finds himself grateful for the other taking the lead. Kaeya’s head tilts and he raises an eyebrow at the alchemist's statement.

“I mean, I try to be, but may I ask what I am right about this time?” He inquires as he studies Albedo’s perfect profile as they continue walking through the crowd.

“About my being selfish.” So matter of fact, spoken as if it should have been obvious. “Hm?”

“I find myself feeling very selfish with you, captain. I’m grateful to finally have your full attention.” Albedo is unphased in his confession. A portrait of composure, he walks closer to the refreshment tables, skillfully weaving them through the heavier crowd. Kaeya can’t withhold the small noise of shock that escapes him, pleasantly surprised by Albedo’s admission. He clears his throat and chuckles, teasingly squeezing his date’s arm. It is almost embarrassing how much Albedo can fluster him without even trying, and he does his best to sweep it away behind his charming facade.

“My, my, has the festivities emboldened you, Albedo?” A perfectly placed dashing smile paired with a wink, his voice a scripted purr. The alchemist shares no reaction, an unreadable expression painting his face. Something bristles in Kaeya, an ever-persistent need to have the last word of flirtation. “In any case, my attention is yours to possess. Y-”

Kaeya is abruptly cut off by his distraction, slamming directly into a wall of a man. A cloud of red puffs around his face while strong hands grasp his free arm to keep him from falling. The captain sputters and takes an unsteady step back before meeting a very familiar crimson glare.

“Kaeya, are you alright…?” Albedo’s voice rings with a bit of concern, large blue eyes darting between the siblings.

“Archons, are you drunk already?” Diluc rolls his eyes and brushes his gloved hands down his vest. His massive ponytail is adjusted, fingers deftly tightening the clasp, as Kaeya chuckles. He flashes a grin at his brother, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Diluc, my apologies. I was… distracted!” He smiles and reaches over to pat his brother’s shoulder. His touch is quickly brushed off, Diluc grumbling and already turning back to the table filled with wine glasses and grape juice to get back to work.

“Do us all a favor and get your head out of the clouds when walking through a crowded festival, Kaeya.” The redhead nags, crossing his arms over his chest to shoot his brother another glare. His bright eyes flash to his date, widening as realization dawns on him.

“Oh… Mister Albedo, pardon my crude greeting. It’s good to see you. I heard you would be coming with Kaeya, I wondered if you’d actually go through with it. I pray he is not giving you too much trouble.” Diluc smiles politely at the blonde as Kaeya makes a sound of annoyance. Something strange stirs in his chest as he watches his brother shake hands and make small talk with his date. It’s all so domestic and strange. It makes the tips of his ears burn as he sidesteps the table to steal a glass, wishing the blush to fade before it is commented on. The wine all but disappears with one swift movement, a pleasant yet warm burning down his throat. Maybe alcohol will kill the crystalflies in his stomach…

“Kaeya seems to have helped himself, but would you like a glass of wine, Albedo? No charge.” Diluc delicately offers the glass to the other man with a soft grin.

“I’ll pass on the drink, but thank you, Diluc.” Albedo shakes his head at the offering, gliding back to Kaeya’s side. Kaeya opens his mouth to make a joke about drinking the second glass for him, but he’s beaten to the punchline by a swirl of wind.

“I’ll take care of that, thank you!” A sing-song voice twinkles as a dainty hand snatches the glass from Diluc. “Would be rude to let another drink go to waste!” As if he had been there the whole time, the bard wiggles himself onto the table next to the redhead as he chugs the drink with a loud gulp. Diluc’s nose scrunches and he tugs Venti off the table, snatching the empty glass back with a grunt. Kaeya laughs and Albedo even chuckles a bit as they watch the two men bicker like an old married couple and nag over the appropriate amount of wine to drink at a festival.

Venti waves his hands in front of his face, shoving away from Diluc’s aggravated grasp. With a twirl, he props himself up onto the chair behind the drink table. His lyre is propped on his hip and he clears his throat before looking back to Kaeya.

“You two go have fun, don’t worry about this sour puss.” Despite his slurred voice, his hands deftly begin to strum the instrument, filling the town square with joyful music. “If I make myself useful, he can’t nag at me!” Diluc huffs in surrender, leaning next to the bard. As Venti begins to sing, Kaeya shakes his head and turns his attention to the people around them.

Couples already begin to shuffle into the square, standing in front of each other with their hands clasped together. Each pair begins to twirl, with smiles and laughter and singing. The sight used to fill Kaeya with bitterness. How embarrassing to do that in front of everyone. How shameful! Sure, he’d participated in plenty of drunken dances with lovely ladies and gentlemen, but it was never anything special or genuine. No eye contact, just practiced movements to get whatever he wanted, whether that was more drink, information, or a distraction in the form of physical touch.

Everything was very different now, though. Very different.

“You’re lost in your head again.” The alchemist speaks very matter-of-factly, as always. He’s right and Kaeya felt no need to lie and correct him. Instead, he looks to Albedo and gasps, realizing the other has been staring at him this whole time.

“You… confuse me.” Kaeya sighs and laughs, tilting his head as he attempts to decipher that unreadable expression once more. Before he can come up with any answers, Albedo moves in front of him and gently outstretches his hand with a soft smile.

“Huh? Do you… need a drink?” The cavalry captain cocks a brow, confused by the sudden request. “Or maybe you’re hungry?”

The blonde at first does not answer with words, silently stepping closer to reach for Kaeya’s hand. He holds it in his, brushing a thumb over the back of his glove as he tugs it a bit closer. The crystal flies have now become hurricanes as Kaeya’s mouth hangs open in a flustered O.

“Dance with me, captain, won’t you?” The statement is framed with a question, as if the offering is held at arms reach… always ensuring the other knows he has a way out. The taller man flusters a moment more, but he harnesses that charmer facade once again. He grips Albedo’s hand and it’s his turn to tug, yanking the smaller man so they are chest to chest. His chest rumbles with a laugh, almost like a purr.

“So selfish with me still? Need an excuse to touch me, chief alchemist?” Kaeya giggles as Albedo rolls his eyes, dragging them both into the crowd of people. “I told you already, Albedo. I am yours today, all yours. Whatever you want-”

“You talk too much.” Albedo sighs as a slender yet strong arm snakes around his waist. His other hand cups Kaeya’s and he hugs the man tight, squeezing a surprised noise out of the taller man. Floundering like a fish out of water, Kaeya is not even given a moment to retort or blab on some other flirty remark. His feet move without him as he is led in a dance to the bard’s beautiful music.

Now this… this has not happened before. This is strange. Kaeya is the one who flusters others, Kaeya is the one who does the swooning. Kaeya is the one who leads the dance, always three steps ahead. Yet, here he stumbles one step behind. Here he swoons as he allows another to move them; one, two, three steps this way, one twirl that way. The alchemist is careful in his movements, leading Kaeya without breaking his crushing eye contact. It’s suffocating almost, as he feels like he is being compressed into nothing under Albedo’s gaze. It’s thrilling. He is thrilling.

The song continues as the two dance, a romantic and joyful tune that swirls through the air and between the couple. When Kaeya almost trips or stumbles, Albedo’s hold tightens around his trim waist. His cheeks burn and his head swirls with confusion as the song reaches its crescendo. With a wide eye and a sound that can only be compared to a wheeze, Kaeya feels Albedo grip him a little tighter before swirling him deep to the side, leaning down over him with a dip. Despite the height difference the two share, Kaeya feels absolutely swallowed by Albedo’s presence as he cradles him, delicately raising his knuckles to his lips. With the softness of a gentle breeze, the alchemist presses a kiss to his hand. All he can do is stare as he holds that crystalline gaze.

As quickly as it began, the song was over. Kaeya blinks, completely thrown off his usual fluid and easy-going ways. Albedo is smiling sweetly as he gives the other a polite bow to thank him for the dance. Kaeya shakes his head as he chuckles before reciprocating the gesture.

“You continue to surprise me, sir. I can’t recall ever being so… out of sorts over a date.” Kaeya leans close to speak low to his companion, not quite noticing the twinkle in the other’s eyes as he listens to the admission. Albedo hums and laces their arms together once more as he leads them away from the crowds.

“I told you, I feel selfish with you.” His monotonous tone softens when he continues, leading them to a nearby bench decorated with more flowers. “It’s rare I’m given time to have you all to myself. I’m determined to make the most of every moment. I am not one to be wasteful.”

Spoken so effortlessly, without any hesitation to hide his affection or interest. He sounds almost honest. Albedo has always been a confusing mystery to everyone in Mondstadt but to no one more than Kaeya. It’s baffling how someone so seemingly introverted can be so confident in his actions. It’s captivating, but it was not what was planned or expected. Kaeya’s teeth worry at his lips, falling deep into thought once more. Here he was, stupidly confident that he would be the one swooning Albedo off his feet; that he could use this chance to step out of his false arrogance facade. Yet, he has been beaten to the punch every time. His cloud of thought is interrupted again by Albedo, this time with his hand gripping his own.

“My apologies, I’m just-”

“Lost in your thoughts again?” Albedo teases, giving his hand another soft squeeze. Kaeya rolls his eye but gives a squeeze back.

“How did you guess? Hah, I just… I want to make sure I’m doing all of this right.” His usual smooth tone is a bit unsteady and nervous.

“Hm? What do you mean, ‘right’?”

The taller man’s voice is vulnerable, it's sincere when he speaks. “I keep getting flustered or stuck in my thoughts… you bring out a different side of me.” A more genuine side. A fearful side. A side he has not yet experienced.

The blonde nods, focusing on where their hands meet as his expression cracks a bit, showing some concern. Albedo opens his mouth, but this time, it is Kaeya who interrupts him.

“I like it. I really like it.” I really like you. The confession aches at the back of his throat, desperate to come out. Instead, he clears his throat and scans the area through the crowds. If he was going to be making any kind of significant confession, it should be somewhere better than a bench in such a public place.

Both men watch as the sun nears the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with an orange glow. The water around Mondstadt reflects the colors, creating a perfect reflection of the skyline over the lake. Couples on boats snuggle close together, rowing out into the middle, creating speckles over the water like dark stars. It’s beautiful.

It’s perfect…!

“I’ve got it, ha! I haven’t lost my charm, no sir.” Kaeya stands quickly from the bench, tugging Albedo’s arm with him down towards the docks. The alchemist gawks at Kaeya’s outspoken thoughts, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as they trot down to the shore. A gentleman stands near the boats and greets them with a smile as Kaeya approaches.

“My good sir, would you be so kind as to lend me and my lover one of your fine boats?” The captain can feel Albedo’s deadpan stare on the back of his head and it makes him smile brighter.

“Of course, right this way.” The man gestures to a boat and helps them off the dock, careful to place the oars into Kaeya’s hands before waving them off. The shorter man wiggles into his seat in front of Kaeya, their knees grazing over one another as he paddles farther into the water.

“I didn’t know you were a seafarer, Kaeya. Did my flirtations drive you to send me overboard?” Albedo holds his hands politely in his lap as he watches the water. Kaeya laughs as he rows farther into the water. The sky has darkened, now a deep magenta bleeding into blood orange. He wants to admire the sky as they move farther into the lake, but Kaeya can’t help but stare at the vision in front of him.

“Nothing so malicious, pretty boy.” Albedo raises a brow when the captain pauses to gather courage. Gently, Kaeya stores the oars beside their feet and scoots a bit closer. Each movement is slow and careful he reaches for Albedo’s hands and he smiles as his touch is eagerly reciprocated. It's all so strange and new… exciting. The crystal flies have begun swarming now.

“Bedo, this whole day, I’ve been telling myself I would take my chance to be selfish with you. Yet, I kept finding myself stuttering and tripping over my thoughts with you.” A big exhale leaves him before he keeps speaking. Kaeya navigates his thoughts, careful to slow them down so that he does not let them all spill out like water from a beaver's dam.

“I haven’t had something like… this. All my experience with relationships and romance is fast and messy, nothing with actual feeling or genuine intrigue. I’d even go as far as to call it all very boring.” His gloved hand reaches forward and tenderly grasps Albedo’s, his thumb tracing a soft shape over the flawless skin. The blonde lets out a puff of hair from his nose, something akin to a laugh.

“Boring? Is this the part where you tell me how boring I am too?” Albedo’s tone is lighthearted and playful, both of them leaning closer to each other without realizing it.

“Quite the opposite.” Kaeya nervously chuckles, unable to look away from the other’s face. “You are impossibly intriguing. It's terrifying… in a good way, I think.” It feels so good, it is dangerous. “I have yet to meet someone so much like me, yet not at all like me. You seem to understand me without me having to even explain. You know I’m different, I know you do. Yet, you look at me like I’m something… worthwhile. Like I am… deserving. Perhaps we are the same kind of different.”

Those striking bright eyes are no longer strangling him, they are drowning him. Liquid blue reflecting pink and orange, so alive yet uncanny and inhumanely perfect. Eyes so open, wide, and enchanting, he finds himself tempted to rip off his eyepatch to get lost in them further, without any obstruction. Unconsciously, he begins to lean even closer, moving a hand to Albedo’s knee to ground himself. This time, it is Albedo’s turn to be speechless. The shorter man blinks up and nods, encouraging Kaeya to continue. When he speaks, it is barely a whisper. The soft words are spoken just between them, in their own little world floating above the lake under the setting sun.

“You are more than intriguing, my alchemist. You are captivating. I find myself quite taken with you.” Kaeya’s ears burn along with his cheeks, but he makes no move to stop. The confession is so foreign on his tongue, that he is committed to savoring every moment of it. “The time spent with you and Klee is when I feel most at ease. The only time I don’t feel so… out of place. I know I can be a lot to handle, I am quite self-aware. You can also just… I don’t know, shove me out of the boat and row back-”

Before any more anxious and ridiculous words can tumble out of him, Albedo is kissing him. His refreshingly cool palm cups the knight’s cheek, holding his face so gingerly as if he is made of glass. Fireworks erupt from the back of Kaeya’s throat down to his chest and land in his stomach, setting the crystal flies aflame. Every inch of him tingles with exciting and terrifying emotions, his heart slamming in his chest as he kisses the man back. The kiss is impatient and inexperienced at first, with Albedo again leading Kaeya into a dreamy dance between their lips.

“You talk too much.” Albedo mumbles against his lover’s eager lips before going back in for more, tilting his head to taste even more of him. The knight smiles into the kiss, one hand coming around the back of Albedo’s head to cup the nape of his neck as the other finds his narrow waist, pulling him even closer. He tastes of mint, black tea, and the colors of the sunset. He tastes like life and second chances and home. He tastes of belonging, family, and freedom. Kaeya’s chest aches for every moment they wasted not kissing as he nearly presses himself under the other man. Hungry lips move from the other’s mouth to his throat and he grins when he hears the hitch in Albedo’s breathing as he grazes his lips over the star marking on Albedo’s throat. Kaeya chuckles and places a chaste kiss there before pulling back to catch his breath.

“I… take it that you feel the same?” His swollen lips form a stupid grin when he questions Albedo, earning him another teasing glare before the two erupt into flustered yet breathless giggles. The blonde nods and adjusts himself back in his seat as Kaeya grabs the oars to get them back to shore. “Yes, idiot captain. To say I feel the same is an understatement.” His bright eyes gleam with an excited shine and Kaeya can feel the blush reach his throat. This man will be the death of him. The knight holds Albedo’s intense gaze and tilts his head a bit to the side in thought.

“So… What happens now? What do I call you? ‘More than coworkers’?” Kaeya taps his chin, as if deep in thought while Albedo groans with affectionate frustration.

“Certainly more than coworkers, but… let us forgo any labels, for the time being. This is all new to me too. Very new… I’d prefer we take this one day at a time.” Kaeya grins with a nod, grateful to be on the same page as his ‘more than coworker’.

As they row back to shore, the two share sweet and silly conversation about how long they have both felt this way. The alchemist laughs too loud when Kaeya admits to having dreams about him, but when Albedo confesses he felt something spark the moment they met, Kaeya nearly falls out of the boat. They decide to save any other confessions for dry land to prevent clumsy cryo users from freezing the boat into the lake.

The rest of the night ends much too fast and the festival comes to an end, all the couples sharing goodnight kisses and sweet dreams as they make their way back home. Kaeya’s arm is draped comfortably around Albedo’s shoulders as they walk back to the knight’s headquarters. The knight wishes the clock would stop spinning so they could sit in this moment, arm around his special one as stars twinkle above. It all feels so unreal and undeserving that he wants to pinch himself, but instead, he presses Albedo closer to his side.

When they reach the entrance of the knight’s quarters, Albedo is quick to look around to ensure their privacy before standing on his tiptoes to pull Kaeya back in for one more chaste goodnight kiss. A sound of pleased contentment leaves the taller man as he pulls him back in for one more kiss before letting him go, his hand lingering on the other’s cheek.

“I’m afraid you’re going to get tired of how often you’re going to see me from now on, dearest Albedo.” Kaeya smiles when Albedo laughs, shaking his head so his blonde hair falls over his bright eyes.

“I’m afraid I’ll be expecting you back at my door, first thing in the morning before rounds with Jean.” The blonde wiggles his brows and turns back to the door with a grin. “Goodnight, Kaeya. Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams, Bedo. Dream of me, won’t you?” Kaeya winks and earns another eye roll from his lover as the door shuts. In the silence of the night, the dark-haired knight permits himself the cheesy reaction of pressing his back to the door, hands over his burning face. Archons above.

“Oh, don’t make me vomit.” A familiar voice groans as heels step closer and a cold hand grips his shoulder. “Get up before I kick you, lover boy.” Rosaria smiles widely down at Kaeya who swats her hand away, hoisting himself back up to his feet. She raises a brow with a hand on her hip, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder.

“Shut up.” Kaeya gently shoves her with his elbow as she continues teasing her friend. “Why don’t you ever ask me to dream about you, Kaeya? Am I not short enough?” Rosaria sighs theatrically and puts on a fake pout as she begins to lead them back to their usual hangout. “I need a drink so bad, shut up.” He groans and follows her, still unable to shake the goofy smile off his face. Rosaria chuckles and throws a strong arm over her friend’s shoulders, tugging him down the road toward the Angel’s Share.

“Alright, alright… I’ll be quiet and you’re going to tell me every disgusting detail of your day, even if I throw up. Go.”

As the evening comes to an end, Kaeya begins his retelling of his Windblume experience. With the backing vocals of a drunken bard and a nagging bartender, the outlander from a nation long forgotten feels as free as ever; the outlander who once found only bitterness in such festivities. The outlander who will let himself be loved by one who can understand.

#genshin impact #genshin #kaebedo #kaebedo fluff #kaeya #albedo #kaeya x albedo #genshin fics #genshin impact fanfic #kaeya is hopeless #albedo is a tease

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stardewnoodles · 9 months ago

Text

And I shall lie here, betwixed by love and resolve, unsure which I am loyal to, or if either are even real. Teach me again how to be real.

I had so much fun with this one. Up now on AO3! Or read it below:

“You think Pico did it? He- no, you don’t talk! Shut the fuck up! You don’t scare me. Yous don’t know anything. By the time your “calvary” swooped in, he was finished cappin’ off Cass’s ass. Look at the tapes. Shit, look at the look on Pico’s face. He. Did. Not. Do. It. Cassandra did. She and her goons. She came in, spouted anarchist bullshit, and… why would anyone do that? And he’s the reason you even have a witness, period. Rest of us are dead, missin’, or hidin’ in the lockers you’re checkin’ in the school. Of course it sounds like I’m makin’ it up: an alien disguised as a goth shoots up a school, but as I been tellin’ you, I dunno what else to tell you, other than that. The truth. Go look in the gym. Body’s still warm. Pico saved my life and he saved Nene’s and whoever he could. That bastard did more than your entire pig force could in the same fuckin’ situation. You will give him the time alone he deserves. You will not walk to your ‘media buds’ and tell this city that my best friend is a murderer. He ain’t the hero you want, but he is one.”

“Nice little speech, brat. Look, I want to believe you as much as the last guy, but there’s one issue with your story. I don’t blame you for distrusting us-“

“Cut the shit. Don’t give me your fake ass pity.”

“Okay. Okay. The bullets we’re finding in most of the… school children… the fingerprints match the people you say caused this.”

“Oh, so for once you’re doing your job?”

“BUT there’s a small issue with your story. The alien bit makes no sense.”

“Check again, dumbass! It’s there! It’s-“ 

“There is no body, Darnell. Just a pool of blood dragged out to the playground and a leg. Oh please, don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, no one could’ve survived that much blood loss.”

“…What?”

It’s a windy summer evening, making it impossible for the lighter to hold a flame for longer than a second. Pico keeps trying to make it last anyway, even as the wind seeps through the fissures in his cupped hand and blows out the light. He nibbles on the cigarette in his mouth, frustration building. The wind practically spits at the bags under his eyes; the sting of rejection by nature hurts as much as people’s do. Too tired, yet not tired enough, to give up. Pico lifts his eyes off the floor. The city doesn’t look like such a dump at night from a high rise balcony. God willing, it’s the perfect place to get shot at while witnessing the light show. The wind would be too harsh to the trajectory of the bullet, they’d need to account for that as he stands there, waiting with open arms. Nothing happens. Pico spits out the cigarette and watches it fall into the dark abyss below. A bad fog is rolling in, so death can’t see him now. His sweater threatens to rip off his body the way the wind is eager to please him, caressing his waist. With Darnell on his way—he texts this, and it could mean anywhere from five minutes to an hour, because that fucker loves to walk home—Pico falls into the restless delusion that this is a message from Darnell. Fate is bullshit. It serves as someone else’s means to an end that a servant of fate blindly follows. On his worst days, he can’t help but see its appeal. Pico blows a kiss to the wind and begs for it to fly off to Darnell. Only fate can be the reason they share this luxurious room. Darnell is a pyro fanatic who happens to be his best friend since childhood. It’s the classic tale of young love. These are one of the days where Pico looks to the city, outstretches his hand, and ponders.

“Darnie,” Pico whispers. “You wouldn’t love me if we weren’t in this together, would you? A freak accident made you step away from college, that’s all, before we met up again. How could you.” The wind howls and laughs at the man deserving of such. “I wonder a lot, uh, you know, if I stole your future from you. You could’ve been the next Oppy, heh. No. No, what am I saying.” Pico rubs his temples, then his eyes, groaning. If his brain is an office, then all the employees have left and the lights are turning off, one by one. “We both know why you’re not with those freaks. Still…” Life could be kinder to his one and only than this. At the cost of stealing the life of another man, Pico lives in a luxury he dreamt of as a kid. The kitchen has a marble-slated counter with a built-in microwave on the side. The refrigerator is behind an ivory wood door and a bronze handle. The bed is a king sized for two, draped with a blue velvet blanket and a thick comforter to make it easier to fall into the clutches of sleep. Each room is a different color. In the main room, the walls are a dark green. In the bedroom, it’s wallpaper of a boat sailing across the ocean, unsure of its destination, but traveling forth all the same. The brown couch is a perfect excuse for a second bed with how soft its fabric and pillows are. That’s not even the best part. The 4K TV hangs on a brick wall that has a gas fireplace built underneath it. The wooden floor is a standard light brown oak series of planks, but the rug in front of the couch is majestic: a handmade rug based off of Pico’s favorite show of all time, Invader Zim. A priceless investment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at the many weapons strung along the ground. Two out of the four are in dire need of repair This apartment room is one of many safe houses scattered across Newgrounds, paid for in full by the blood and tears of his kills. Vigilante is too nice of a word. A vigilante is supposed to be a hero in some way, shape, or form. Pico is no symbol of hope; he’s the reason windows have locks and figures in power, lurking in the shadows, have twenty men instead of five by their side. There is no side, usually. It’s the money that counts. He’s a bounty hunter, plain and simple, who rarely refuses an offer. A person who blends in with the crowd seamlessly, able to hook Newgrounds like a fish to bait. Despite this, he is simultaneously the very person they never want to meet in their entire life. It turns his gut into a Fruit Roll-up, but he must admit (oh yes, Pico licks his lips to it), the initial shock, the realization, it never gets old. He has to keep it fresh, or else it’s too boring. Raw human emotion is on the same level of eating strawberries the first day he buys them. They are succulent, ripe, and oh so juicy in a way that sticks with him until the next batch. It’s so fresh it gives his mouth an orgasm as it runs down the corner of his lips. Pico taps a finger against the railing. The taste is slightly different, batch after batch. Similarly, no one person evokes the same response to a topic. How delicious. Sophomore high school literature said that, at least. Pico steps back inside and closes the sliding door. The roar of the wind is forgotten by the soothing crackle of false embers.

A whisper comes from the gas. Pico gets close to the fire, cocking his head at the heat brushing against his face. The allure is still there in the form of the frustrated dance of the flames, anger begging to be unleashed. A faint outcry can be heard the longer Pico stares at the fireplace. Something calling to him with such bitterness, the flames may as well be spitting in his face. There are enough people to count on one hand who he’s heard with such hatred. He cautiously reaches out to it. The fire suddenly bursts with new life and swipes Pico’s right hand away. A hundred microscopic bullets tear through the inside of his flesh. His eyes widen in shock when he looks at his hand. The heat, which was meant to be cool at all times, was hot enough to add another battle scar to the collection in a mere second. Pico licks his dry lips. Hot as hellfire.

“Shit!” An issue with the gas? A warning? What else could it be? Pico shuts it off quickly and kisses the new burn mark on his hand. It’s right next to the other hand he sustained over two years ago when Cassandra… “Everything fucking breaks that I touch!” Pico shouts at himself, pissed off, embarrassed. Static sets in. It’s so loud in his head, blaring like the theater, but he can’t leave, he’s glued to the floor.

A rap at the door echoes inside the room. Pico draws the uzi strapped to his waist, ignoring the sharp pain running up his right hand, then up his arm. The safety flicks off easily. The fire dies down, its noise in his head replaced by the roaring static and the drumming beat of his heart. The average draw time of a lousy shooter is one and a half seconds. A better one, maybe a second. The best, six tenths of a second. Taking into account the fact that this is a safe house and he knows nobody else here, he has to assume they’re good at their craft. He either shoots the moment their gun crosses the safety of the hallway or dies. No, he has no idea who it is, he can’t shoot immediately. A shadow blocks light from crawling under the door. Keys jangle as the intruder figures out which one to use. Pico squints. Any second now, and then the noise will stop. Any second now, and he’ll have to worry about buying 5 gallons of bleach. Any second now—

“God damn it, which one of these damn things is it?!” An irritated voice hisses from the other side of the door, just as the lock turns and the door swings open. The static dissipates. Pico lowers his uzi, clutching at his head. Stupid fucking faggot , he grits his teeth, cursing at himself. Look at you . “Peeks? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or a demon, or some crazy type shit. You good?” Darnell’s wearing his white sweater and jeans today instead of a flaunting hoodie to blend in more with the crowd. He’s been trying new styles lately, this time with a touch of black lipstick he smacks his lips on. His hair has been cut down from a tall flattop to box braids reaching his neck. He got the haircut last week, and it still leaves Pico in awe. He’s gorgeous, divine, raw. “You’re wearing my hoodie again.” Pico clicks the safety on and straps the uzi back to his waist. He takes off his gun belt and tosses it onto the couch.

“Is there a problem with it?” Pico sighs deeply. He tugs at Darnell’s purple and yellow hoodie. It smells like him. It’s soft like him. “Thought you were someone else. You didn’t knock five times, just twice.”

“Oh, I was supposed to- oh shit, I was. I’m sorry man, I totally forgot. '' In his hands, Darnell has two black plastic bags that he grips tightly. They’re lightly covered in rain drops, a sign of the coming storm looming over Newgrounds. Pico looks out the window. Bleak clouds steal the sunlight and use it for their own machinations, absorbing each other like an amoeba. As if on queue, thunder rumbles in the distance. Darnell drops the bags and kneels down to inspect Pico’s hand. Darnell’s face distorts, as if he cannot believe what he’s seeing. He blinks a few times, making sure it isn’t a hallucination engraved on Pico’s hand. Darnell inhales and exhales sharply. “Fail at cookin’ again?” He says with a weak smile.

“No, no the uh… the fireplace.” Pico raises a brow at Darnell, but Darnell doesn’t leave him time to counter with his own question.

“That shouldn’t cause a burn. It ain’t real one in the first place. The gas is only hot enough to keep the cold out of this place. Yeah, that’s hot, but not hot enough to do that.”

“I know, but it did. It lunged at me like it had a bone to pick with me. Really fucking weird. It felt like being bitten. Reminded me of…” A lump gets stuck in Pico’s throat. The word cannot properly form and be uttered, even after all this time. What a coward he was. “You know…”

“She’s, uh,” Darnell pauses, biting his lower lip. He clears his throat. “She’s dead, dude, and last I checked the only person who could maybe revive the dead is busy rearrangin’ your ex’s guts and on our side. I’m sure it’s just a fault with the gas line. I’ll call about it tomorrow.” Darnell squeezes Pico’s hand affectionately before letting go. “Weird burn tat, though.” Part of the training Pico’s father made him endure was the reading of emotions through tonal shifts and a person’s eyes. Slight twitches and awkward shuffles reveal truths that were meant to stay buried. Pico can dig them up, and Darnell, here in the room with him, looks at his hand with fear.

“Huh?” Pico hasn’t been paying attention. Earlier it was too red to make out, but now that it’s settled, he can’t rub out of his eyes what he sees. It’s real. A fiery, distorted, inverted cross. Pico shudders. “Darnie! You don’t find that crazy?! Not at all?! Are you nuts?!” Pico whispers, venom in his tone, afraid of speaking out loud in case the tiny ignition flame that burns day in and day out is listening. Darnell jumps. He rubs his lips with a finger; he does it whenever he’s lost in deep thought, pondering the unknown.

“I’m out there, small time inventor with some fireworks on the side, not a D&D Necromancer. Ain’t nobody but the Dearest fam is, and they’re literal demons. Peeks.” Darnell urges his lover to think about anything else in the known universe. Pico chuckles at Darnell. Small time inventor is one way to describe a pyromaniac. He knows no harm can come to him when said pyromaniac is in the room with him, but he can’t rip his gaze away from the imprint on his hand. Maybe… maybe… maybe? Pico shakes his head. “Well,” Darnell claps his hands together. It brings Pico back to reality. “I did buy some new gloves for your motorcycle ‘cause you whined about it every day to me for the last two weeks. You wanna try them on?” Darnell eases out of the topic while rubbing Pico’s back and sits down with him. He presses the tip of his fingers against the aching muscles in his back. Pico forces down the rising whines of affection.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Pico nods to make his decision clear. Darnell takes the fingerless gloves out of the first bag. They’re purple and the same striking shade as Darnell’s hoodie. It’s a thick material with velcro straps. He puts them on with the help of Darnell, who slowly slides them onto his boyfriend’s hands. As Pico tightens the strap, Darnell rubs a thumb against Pico’s palm. The ginger’s cheeks paint themselves pink.

“Shit’s fire with the hoodie.” Darnell kisses Pico’s glove, looking into Pico’s eyes as if he is royalty. A chill spreads through his veins the moment after Darnell made contact with the glove, taming the wildfire in his hand. The heat travels elsewhere. Pico’s face turns red as a pepper. “I been doin’ the wrong thing, not lettin’ you wear my favorite hoodie more often. You sho seem to love it.”

“Shut up.” Pico says with a wide smile. He balls his hands into a fist. The pain is gone. “Thanks. Really, thanks.” He debates making out with Darnell, exploring the feel of the gloves against Darnell’s hairy chest. He decides against it; now isn’t the time, as much as his body screams at the slightest signs of affection. “What else you get?” Pico turns his attention back to the windows. Thunder booms outside the apartment building. Lightning flickers in the distance—nature’s alarm has been set off. Pico counts the seconds between each strike. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Another clap of thunder. One, two, three, four, five. Thunder rumbles the building and lightning touches down like an SOS, a call to get inside and stay inside. He turns back to Darnell, who’s holding two matching motorcycle helmets. Streaks of black lightning decorate the top, with an explosion of different shades of purple, like fireworks molding into each other, covering the rest. The visor, with its sleek black shade, blocks out UV rays from the sun to make driving easier. Pico notices how easy it is to see the inside of the helmet despite this. Another thing he notices: they are the perfect size for Pico and Darnell, respectively. Finally, the cushioned interior makes it wear for long periods of time without causing the annoying throbbing Pico is used to. It’s meant for Pico, no one else. It’s perfect. The craftsmanship could’ve only been done by one person in the whole world. “Darnie, you made these?” Pico asks, despite knowing the answer. Darnell gives a devilish grin. Pico wipes the grin off his face with a kiss to the lips, leaning over to roughly press against his. Darnell gingerly sets down his helmet before wrapping Pico in a bear hug. Darnell smells of ash and weed; it’s pungent, leaving the ginger dazed. He allows his body to sag into his lover’s arms, who tugs at his hoodie to brush a finger against Pico’s back. Kisses meet the freckles on Pico’s cheeks to form a constellation out of black lipstick. The longer Darnell goes at it, the more it smears, the less Pico can hang onto reality. It’s messy, how they like it, with tongues clashing and lips dragging. Darnell presses back harder. Pico’s eyes roll back. He is afraid to lose his grip, fall endlessly into the abyss, but Darnell’s hand interlocks with his gloved one and keeps him afloat. Their passion drowns out the rolling thunder. Pico opens one eye to look at Darnell. His eyes are fluttering, with sparks exploding inside of them. He’s still grinning. He’s in love, somehow, and Pico wishes he knew why. Darnell runs a finger up Pico’s back, but Pico wants to shy away from Darnell. Stop, stop! His brain shuts off, hurls itself into the void. He wipes saliva off of his mouth.

“Peeks? You drawlin’ again? Did I do something wrong?” Pico stares at the floor to try and escape. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again, this time forcing out the question looming over him like his shadow.

“Why do you love me? What… What the hell is there to love? We’re five months into this and I still can’t… I don’t get it. Fuck, man.” Darnell furrows his brows. He thrusts Pico’s helmet into his chest. “The fu-“

“Get it on. We’re goin’ out.” Darnell ruffles Pico’s hair and stands up, grabbing his coat by the door. He’s quick to move, agitated, hastily foraging the drawer by the door for the motorcycle keys.

“Going out? That storm’s going to wreck through here in, like, ten minutes! It’s gonna be shit!”

“Better bring a raincoat then so ya don’t ruin my hoodie. Trust me.” Darnell is calm, assuring. Pico’s soul flutters, warming his body. Pico does. Pico does with his heart and every drop of blood pumping through it. The worries fade. His heart blossoms.

“Bet.” Where Darnell goes, Pico follows, and so he follows.

III

Nene was quick to flee the graduation party scene and find a wall to lean on and a cigarette to smoke down to a stub. No one had been to class since the massacre, but rules were rules, and a ceremony had to be held for the remaining graduating class. “To safeguard their future endeavors and commemorate their resilience,” the Dean of Students stated in an interview the next day. Pico never showed up. His diploma was mailed to the current house his father lived at, since his mother had passed a year prior. Darnell clutches his heart. He’s ashamed to admit he hoped for this outcome. Nene hears Darnell’s footsteps before he sees her. When he rounds the corner to greet her, her cigarette is ready to melt his eyeball.

“Fuckin’ A, woman!” Nene giggles and goes back to dragging on the cigarette. They stand in silence, watching crows circle the school’s leftover property, as if there’s still blood to be found.

“We’re not going to college.” Nene states it as a fact, not a question, and even though Darnell shrugs, he knows she’s right. “Not like we planned on it in the first place. We’re maniacs, the three of us, destined for greater things.”

“Does that destiny include this shit?” Nene looks away, twirling the cigarette, making the smoke dance for her amusement. The risk of burning herself is alluring.

“I’m just saying. I’ve managed to get to Pico over the phone. He’s thinking about continuing what his father thought about starting after his wartime. Sounds like a hell of a time. I may join in.” Darnell stares at her, dumbfounded. Nene flicks the cigarette into the sewage vent by her feet, blowing ash off her hand. “Bounty Hunting. Does he tell you nothing? You’re supposed to be his BFF: Bro’s Faggot Forever.” Darnell rolls his eyes. “You should laugh or I’ll burn off your hair.”

“Haha.” Darnell retorts in a deadpan voice. He rubs his arm nervously. Being a mercenary sounds exactly as Nene put it, a hell of a time. They’d be able to make a load of money off of it. Even if the massacre didn’t happen, all three are adept in methods of killing. Cutting loose after all of this sounds like the best thing to do. Darnell weighs his options. The real world is a boring repetition of waking up for a job you hate and a life you wish you never had. Most people, on average, only achieve happiness in their 40s, unless they have rich parents. Darnell shakes his head. He takes this, he can skip more than twenty wasted years of his life.

Pico will be kept in his sights.

“I ain’t feelin’ good about this.” Darnell lies. Nene punches him in the arm.

“Mhm, don’t be such a pussy. Hey, didn’t you want to talk to me about something?” She asks while playing with spit in her mouth. A shiver runs up Darnell’s spine. He slowly nods.

“They never found Cassandra’s body, only a body part .” Nene chokes on her spit, doubles over, lungs clawing at her trachea. “I can’t tell Pico this, but you-”

“That bitch! She could still be out there! We gotta get her! We got to grind that bitch to dust! Then burn the dust!”

“Sssshhhh!” Darnell covers Nene’s mouth. She glares at him and licks his hand. He recoils back, wiping the saliva off on his graduation gown. “Fuckin’ gross. There’s no way she’s alive. They say the blood left behind is enough to be fatal.”

“Cops will say anything, Darnell, you should know this.” Nene drops her head. “I get why you want to believe it. What a fucking joke. All the shit Pico did for nothing, then.” Darnell wraps an arm around Nene’s shoulder, pulling her close. She pleads to whatever higher power may exist that they aren’t plotting the worst joke of the 21st century. “If anything happens, he’ll shoot you in the face for not telling him before storming off after her.” Darnell frowns. He’s motionless, but not like a statue. Rather, he acts like pudding.

“If he finds out, I don’t think he’ll recover. Nene, we have to see how this plays out. We have to act clueless. I can’t lose him, too. I miss our third musketeer. I want him to live. I want him to smile again.”

Pico’s beaming smile reveals his missing tooth. It brings life to Darnell, and Darnell has to wipe a tear from his eye after he takes his helmet off. No, it can’t be. Darnell never cries, everyone knows that. Pico parks the motorcycle under the giant tree overlooking Newgrounds. Pico doesn’t pester. Surely, he thinks, it’s one of the many raindrops coming down. They run for cover under a garden dome that is closer to the cliff’s edge. They hop over the CAUTION railing and dash into the old rusty dome. They’re careful not to trample over daisies surrounding the stairs. It was made out of metal and silver, a gift to the first mayor of Newgrounds when the town was founded over a century ago. It’s seen three reconstructions in one hundred years, stripping it of rust and remodeling it to the image the founders intended. Regardless, rust and age return without fail. Another remodeling will soon be planned to hide its age, but it will be unmasked again in the future, and the cycle will repeat itself. Their helmets are placed on the soaked metal bench. The design is so bright, he wonders if it can be seen from Newgrounds. Darnell sits down, catching his breath, shivering at the water sticking to his butt. Pico cups his hands and shouts. Raindrops drip from their clothing like a leaking faucet. The dome gives the impression of a circular waterfall coming down from heaven, minus a small clearing that gives the perfect view of Newgrounds thanks to a protruding metal arrow that points north.

“WOOOO!” It comes back from the city, the trees, the sky, the stars, here on the cliffside. Pico’s pale eyes glow yellow as he stares at Newgrounds from afar. From here, the city is a petite Christmas decoration. Its lights illuminate the darkness in his mind and form twisted shadows in places he’d never think to look. Pine trees swaying in the wind give barely any protection from the downpour, but the taste of their sap reaches the lover’s tongues. The damp ground exposes the earth’s scent to civilization once again. Mud, grass, flowers, pinecones, all work in tandem to bring Pico to a calm state of mind. The rain is too loud to tear his thoughts from Darnell. Darnell, the fire that ignites passion, the only flame he’d reach out and risk holding close. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here!” Pico shouts over the torrential rain.

“Now you have, bozo! Ain’t it cool?!”

“Fuck yes!” Pico twirls around, taking in the sights and smells. He trips on his own foot and falls into Darnell’s arms, who reacts quickly enough to stand up and catch him. The raindrops cannot hide his blush. He brushes the water off of Darnell’s face with his gloves. His cheeks, Pico notes, warm his hands underneath the fabric. The fire in his eyes keeps his body warm.

“You asked why I love ya.” Darnell snakes his arms around Pico’s chest. Pico can barely keep his breathing steady once Darnell locks his hands together, trapping Pico. Each word pouring out of Darnell’s mouth, down to the syllable, rubs on his lips like a kiss. The ruthless bounty hunter crumbles and burns when Darnell plants a kiss on his forehead, which he can feel even after his lips depart. Pico whines, submits himself. He dares not touch it, fearing the black lipstick would then run down his face and ruin such a gift. The rain patters above, muffled by Darnell’s words. “I be seein’ an answer written on your face. Should look in the mirror more and see the man I’m seein’.” Another kiss. The two lingering kisses massage his mind. Pico’s breathing becomes erratic. “You’ve never been, and never will be, Cass’ mutt. She’s not who you are. You’re the one who ran on hellfire and came back swingin’. You’ve grown so much. And her?” Darnell lets out a heavy sigh. He looks away from Pico momentarily, then focuses his gaze back on him to keep him entranced. Receiving any sort of acknowledgement hits Pico where it hurts–the heart. He fights back tears, lips quivering. “Got all the qualities I love, too. Total bitch who never stops for nobody. Tough. Strong. Cute.”

“My father would be disappointed.” Pico mumbles with bright red cheeks. Darnell shakes his head.

“Tsk, tsk. We don’t care what he thinks in this house. I had no idea where to go, or who to trust, and you took my hand anyway like we never stopped seein’ each other. Saved me about as many times as I saved you. Ain’t nobody able to keep up with me but you. That’s besides the point. Look, Pico, you could be none of these things, you could still be that damned nerdy runt with glasses and braces who decided to book it to college, and I’d still sneak into your dorm and count stars on your face.”

“Why?”

“When I say I love you, I mean I love you . Not the bullshit you think you need to be. You .” The knot keeping Pico calm, collected, unwavering, snaps. You–the sharpened word was strong enough to cut deep into his soul. His duel against his pent up emotions has at last ended. Pico lets go of Darnell, slumps down to the ground, fists clenched. He trembles, and it isn’t from the cold. It begins to rain inside the garden dome.

“Me.” Pico chokes on the word as tears fall. Darnell sits back down, this time on the metallic floor, with his legs outstretched. He pats his thigh and softly smiles at Pico, who understands immediately what is being offered, and crawls over like a sick dog and lays his head on Darnell’s lap. “Darnie…”

“It’s all good. No one��s gonna hear you here.” The haunting flames Darnell sought to push back are quenched. Pico twitches in his grasp. His assurance washes over Pico, who curls up and bawls like a child. Not a soul is able to hear his cries over the fury of the rain except his boyfriend.

#fnf pico #picos school #friday night funkin #pico newgrounds #pico x darnell #fnf darnell #darnell newgrounds #your honor they are really gay

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j-graysonlibrary · 1 month ago

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His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 2

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full Chapter 2 under the cut

II:

It was a dark and stormy night, cliché as it sounds, and Noah was having trouble staying asleep. He’s never liked storms and, while all of his coworkers claimed a big storm was the perfect backdrop for sleep, he only ever felt restless.

His mind would go to his childhood, when his mother would force them all into the crawlspace and hyperventilate until the thunder stopped. She lost her older sister to a tornado, she always said, and although thunderstorms were one of the few times Noah recalls being held by his mother, the fear has outlasted anything remotely positive about the experience.

He’s not, necessarily, scared of thunder or lightning but he can’t escape the images that tug at his mind when both are present.

That’s why, on that night, he was cycling between trying to sleep in earnest and scrolling through his phone. No one was posting on any socials so he was usually met with the same few things every time he tried to distract himself.

Such a let down.

He turned, from one side to the other. If Corncob were still alive, he’d be under the covers, trembling, but offering some comfort to Noah. He could sleep, somewhat undisturbed, through most storms when Corncob was with him.

So, on top of the unavoidable memories, Noah fought against his grief.

It was still fresh.

He still heard Corncob walking through the apartment sometimes.

But all he heard that night was loud crashing followed by lightning strikes so close to him that they lit up the entire room. It didn’t matter that his blinds were shut and a curtain was pulled over them. Each flash was blinding.

How do people sleep soundly through this? He found himself thinking and, just as soon, he became irate at those who loved storms. The idea one could feel joy from something that hurt him…resentment squeezed him, somewhere deep. Each pump of his heart, it got tighter.

Noah typed up his thoughts on his social profile, adding and erasing as the storm raged outside. The sentences were disjointed and too long. He was saying too much. Giving too much away. If anyone knew he felt or thought such things, they’d resent him back.

He deleted the draft and put his phone away again, more determined than ever to sleep but seeped in an anger he couldn’t shake.

A loud clap of thunder shook the building and he jolted up, at the end of his rope. Maybe some water or a snack could help, he considered and threw his blankets off of him. It was too hot for the extra sheet anyway and it probably wasn’t helping any.

He swung his legs around the side of the bed and stood up, grabbing his phone again but only to use it as a flashlight. It wasn’t, entirely, necessary, as he’d been at the apartment for so long with the same layout of furniture and could navigate the space with his eyes closed.

It was simply more comfortable to have the extra light.

Noah had spent the last eight years attempting to perfect how to make himself more at ease. The task was monumental but he’d made some big strides. His body, for starters, while stripped of it’s feminine charm (mourned by more people than he cared to acknowledge), was more to his liking and he felt at home inside of himself—more so than at any other point in his life.

Then, there was his job where he made just enough money to afford his rent, utilities, medication, and food with a little extra every so often. As a shift manager, too, he had some added control over his schedule and his seniority at the store gave him wiggle room to care for himself first. Most of the time anyway.

The loss of Corncob took him back a few paces, he knew, but he still tried—day in and day out—to just feel okay. He liked to pick out one thing, a day, to appreciate. Even if minor, he could say “something good happened today” and rest a bit easier.

Another rumble of thunder shook the apartment but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the last. Afterward, Noah heard another thump but he knew it couldn’t be the storm.

It was closer and the way that it echoed made it sound as if it was…inside.

Breath.

He heard breathing. And not his own.

His hand began to tremble and the light from his phone reflected that. He gripped his wrist, steadying himself, and took slower, more purposeful steps.

“Hey,” he projected, over the rain, and scooted closer to the living room. There were only a few paces between there and his bedroom so, once he came around the corner, he would be witness to whatever he was hearing.

‘It’s a rat,’ he hoped. A very big rat.

But his imagination fed him only the worst-case scenario instead. A group of men, all larger and better armed than he, there for the purpose of inflicting pain and torment. They didn’t just want to steal from him, they wanted to hurt him. They violated more than his home, no matter how many times he told himself that no one in their right mind would want to touch him.

Noah shined his light in first, holding his breath, and saw something in the middle of the two extremes. A young man, probably no older than twenty-one, stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. Neither moved or said a word for a severe moment.

Cold sweat prickled at Noah’s temples, eventually making trails down to his jaw to get lost in his beard. The intruder, holding an old tablet (that Noah had stashed away in the front closet), blinked a few times and then…

His worries of that night are still worse than reality but it’s impossible to reason when someone was, literally, in his home. Any recount of the event leads to a diversion.

The thief, instead of escaping through the window and thumping down on the balcony under him, tends to take a step toward Noah. The shadows on his face darken, hiding his features since Noah didn’t get the best look at him and can’t, mentally, fill in the blanks.

Hands shoot out and nails dig into flesh. Hot breath wafts over his face and he loses his lease on his body, having to leave again and, this time, he’s not sure he can come back.

Noah swallows down a gasp as he wakes with a start. When he dreams of the break-in, it’s always the same. The calm recollection of what really happened gets overwritten by that lingering, unrealistic impression. Even if the thief really did just run away once he was caught, the fact remains.

He was in Noah’s apartment.

He came in, invaded his space, and everything Noah thought he’d cultivated for himself is now shattered. He is not safe, clearly, and he has no control.

The bus stops about a half-mile from the courthouse and Noah unclenches his fists. He brings his bag up onto his shoulder and dismounts, regret and dread dancing in his gut.

At least this area of town isn’t one he often visited when he lived here before. He’s vaguely triggered by the old government buildings but he can’t say he recognizes anything around them. He knows that will likely change and soon.

He’s floating somewhere around his temples, rather than sat in his body, but he still feels his blood pumping in his ears. It’s strange but he has no time to stop and calm down. If he doesn’t collect his niece and nephew, he’ll…

…he’s not sure, really, but he knows it’s bad.

Inside, he’s vaguely aware of asking where he needs to go to fill things out. He gives his dead name and, with some confused but, frankly, uninterested looks, he’s directed to a room with a social worker and a lawyer. The children are absent but that’s better. Noah can only focus on one thing at a time or he’ll lose his ability to focus entirely.

He’s lucky. His customer service smile still works as does his voice and while the two strangers before him are certainly tired, they also muster a smile in reciprocation.

“The will and all the paperwork says Mary but…” The social worker mentions, having to bring it up. Noah’s license, very much, says otherwise.

“My sister probably forgot to update everything.” She forgot to update a lot, Noah adds in his head. He hands over the papers, documenting his name change. It’s a bit wrinkled from the trip but neither the social worker nor the lawyer care much.

They want this to be over with just as much as he does.

“Alright,” the lawyer says and presents Noah with a small stack of fresh documents. “I’ll walk you through all this. Miss Shaw will go and bring the kids and the car.”

The social worker nods and leaves the room. Noah wonders what she’ll tell Erin and Bryce, if she’ll say anything at all. He doesn’t really think about this until she’s gone and then he’s in his head.

He knows how his sister Kathleen felt. And he knows her husband was worse. Did they ever tell their kids about his transition? Did they explain why Noah never came over for holidays anymore?

His mind snaps and clicks as he signs his name and initials where the lawyer’s boney finger points. He can’t really hear him clearly. His words sound more like notes from a tuba, played slow and through thick glass. He assumes it’s nothing too important, since the lawyer never so much as looks up at him.

When they’re done, Noah drops the pen and he swallows hard. Needles scratch down his esophagus, cutting, slicing, and he resists the urge to cough, knowing deep down there will be spots of blood. Though he can see red splotches, easily, on the lawyer’s shiny bald spot, he won’t make it come true.

The electricity in the room whines in a way that Noah can’t handle for much longer. It’s ticking in the back of his head but, thankfully, the lawyer leads him out and into the lobby.

There still isn’t enough air for them all to breathe and Noah is considerate not to take it all in big gulps like he wants to—especially when he sees the social worker with two children trailing behind her. One is quite tall, coming to the social worker’s shoulder, while the other is about a half a foot shorter but very lanky.

In fact, they’re both quite lanky. Noah was when he was young too, as was Kathleen. His mother, too, in her old pictures, was all limbs as a teen and then gained weight after twenty-five. All of Noah’s weight settled at his belly though it used to be well-rounded—on his hips and thighs—but years on testosterone moved it and morphed it. Kathleen had been, over all, bigger than him so he expects her children will follow suit…in time.

Erin is the first to make any kind of expression as the two groups come closer in the lobby. She is confused, understandably, and regards Noah with a scrunched face. He, immediately, guesses that her mother told her all about him, leaving out no crumb of her own judgment.

Bryce, however, has more of a blank stare. His eyes are unfocused—Noah recognizes the look well.

“I thought Aunt Mary was taking us…” Erin finally breaks her silence and, also, looks away from Noah in order to turn to the social worker.

“Right. Mary was on the will but this is Noah. She…he’s the same.”

Noah’s intestines writhe, tying in knots. He glances between the children, expecting some blow out or, at least, some change in their faces showing disdain. But, there’s nothing. Not really. At most, they remain as confused as before and both the social worker and lawyer leave them be.

They mutter to themselves as they walk off and, likely, by the end of the day, they will have forgotten all about this instance. More work awaits them, Noah is sure, with many cases more important than theirs.

He catches Erin’s eye and tries his luck, “Alright, let’s go.”

“Hold on,” she says, lifting her hand up. Her nail polish looks professionally done but there are a few chips. Since her parents died, she’s not gotten them touched up. “What did she mean when she said you and Aunt Mary are the same?”

“I…I’m your Uncle Noah.” It is all he can bear to say. He isn’t lying, he supposes, but he just cannot explain things for himself. But, given their unchanging faces, he sticks a toe on the line, “Did your parents not tell you about me…?”

This time, it’s Bryce who speaks. His voice is fragile, starting to break but still quite high and a bit squeaky. “Are you Aunt Mary’s husband?”

The thought never would have crossed Noah’s mind organically but now that it’s been said, it’s ripe and appealing. How could anyone prove otherwise and, more importantly, why would they not believe it? Mary, as far as everyone in the town is concerned, stopped existing eight years ago—longer still for some.

He’s nodding his head before he means to be. “Your Aunt Mary is, um, not around anymore.”

“She died?” Erin asks, appalled. “Mom never said…”

“They weren’t that close in the end,” Noah responds, feeling the pearl of truth lodge in his throat. The fact Kathleen is dead hasn’t, completely, caught up with him yet but it rears it’s head then.

Would he grieve over her? He’s not sure. He can’t say whether he’s particularly sad about it and he spares no thought at all for her husband (which is no surprise). Maybe the emotions would come later for Kathleen? When Noah least expects it or when it’s most inconvenient for him.

That’s possible though he can’t understand why he would mourn her loss as anything other than a loss of closure. He tried for closure, more than once. That never went anywhere…

Before he can get too lost in the past, he pushes on. “You met me when you were little though…you just don’t remember.”

Maybe it’s a step too far but neither Erin nor Bryce questions it. They are quiet, potentially still shell shocked by their parents both dying, and if the lawyer says Noah is their legal guardian then who are they to say different?

“Let’s get you home.” Noah leads the way outside and is struck by the sun, shooting into his eyes and bringing tears to the surface. He’s numb on the inside, already boarding up the walls in preparation for the literal drive down memory lane required to reach his childhood home.

#his transgressions built it #my writing #my novel #lgbt writers #lgbt writing #transmasc novel #transmasc protagonist

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fang-wife · 4 years ago

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»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

loft music | tamaki amajiki

➳ tags ;; mean!reader, sub!tamaki, teasing, mild humilation, degradation, unprotected sex, the petname bunny n fucktoy, sweet lil ending, there’s only one bed, oh no!

➳ wc ;; 2.4k

➳ a/n ;; speed wrote this shit at 6am and it’s currently 9am. i haven’t slept...

edit: reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags </3

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

He thinks you’re joking most of the time.

It’s to be expected of someone like Tamaki - all nerves, fear, anxiety. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to believe someone like you actually means all the flirty things you say. Certain you’re making fun of him, he tries his hardest to let the commentary slide off his shoulders like he needs it too.

But it’s hard. You make him feel so frazzled. It’s so hard to pretend he isn’t bothered by your too close touches, the warmth of your breath, the feeling of your body pressed against his when you hold his arm on patrols. It’s like he knows - deep down, that you’re doing it to mess with him. He knows that you’re doing it to see him frustrated because you make that face when he squirms. It’s so evil and so mean and humiliating -

and so unbelievably arousing. It makes his breath catch in his lungs - his stomach twist and turn. It makes his entire body burn with desire and he hates it. He feels uneasy when he sees you - not knowing what thing you’ll do to string him along like before. There’s a restless that you’ve grown inside him - planted in his heart and lungs that he finds inescapable. He’s more afraid of it when you’re not there, on the days you don’t bother him at all.

He can’t understand himself. Why he’s so disappointed when you’re partnered with someone else on patrol. Why he goes home feeling extra miserable when you haven’t said something to push his buttons. It makes him feel like a puppy waiting for it’s master - downtrodden and depressed without your attention.

There’s the jealousy too. That bitterness in his mouth when that new rookie clings to your side with doe-eyes. It made him sick to see you pinch the newbies cheek with any kind of affection - ruffling his hair and throwing your arm around his shoulder.

It’s all unreasonable. And confusing. He doesn’t know how to feel about you and can’t determine how you feel about him. There’s not even anyone he can tell because how was he supposed to explain himself?

But he has to rid himself of this frustration somehow - manage it before he really breaks down.

{ ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ }

He knows for certain that being on this mission with you, alone - in this room with one bed, will not help him at all.

He cannot remember a time he felt this miserable. His heart damn near fell out of his ass when the receptionist told him about the mix-up. It didn’t help that he saw that little whimsical look in your eyes when you registered it. The faux disappointment and shrug. Tamaki doesn’t trust you at all, not one bit.

He figures he must’ve done something truly evil in a past life to deserve this. He’s expecting some kind of commentary from you given the whole situation when you enter the room. There’s a couch, and a desk. A singular lamp and a TV - and the bed is big but not big enough for two. Not big enough for you to sleep truly separate.

He awaits your commentary anxiously, as your eyes drink in the surroundings. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he knows it’s not you opening the curtains and staring out into the city.

“It’s really a beautiful. Shame we’re only here for a mission,” ― you sigh, stretching your arms and yawning ― “I’ll take the couch tonight, by the way. We should sleep soon,”

His eyes widen. Did he hear you correctly?

“Sorry, what?”

You turn your head and blink at him, head cocked to one side. You blink a few times before knitting your brows together.

“Hm?”

“Y-you’re gonna sleep on the couch?”

You nod.

“Yeah. You’ll be using your quirk a lot tomorrow, so at least for tonight - I’ll take the couch”

Tamaki isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel about it. He knows it shouldn’t be disappointment. He nods dumbly.

“Oh.. okay”

“Cool. I’m gonna get washed up and head to bed - I’m beat”

He watches you slink off to the bathroom, dumbfounded.

{ ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ }

You’re putting on skin cream as Tamaki contemplates your proposal. The only thing in the background is some TV drama - but the words are blurring. His head is racing with a million thoughts. You’re not even fazed - seemingly off somewhere in your own world as Tamaki sorts his own emotions out by weight.

Everything else, reason, shame, anxiety - is drowned by the most unpleasant feeling of disappointment he’s ever experienced. He’s trying his hardest to understand it but every time he tries - his brain fires off into question marks. Why the hell is he so disappointed? Shouldn’t he be relieved?

But he isn’t. He feels so uneasy he wants to throw some kind of tantrum but he can’t. He’s changed into pajama pants and a loose white shirt - his legs crossed on the bed. He chews his lip nervously. Why does he feel like this?

“Uhm, y-you know you should.. sleep on t-the bed with me. Uhm, since - we’re both gonna be.. uhm, busy”

What is he saying? What is he doing?

You pause, turning over your shoulders with your brow quirked. You mask your amusement, straightening your face.

“Oh.. uh - you sure? Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?,”

Obviously.

“No!”

You smile at him.

“Then.. sure. Let me know if I make you uncomfortable”

And with that you turn away to face the mirror - finishing the rest of your skincare and putting it away as Tamaki anxiously sets alarms on his phone and adjusts his side of the bed. He tucks himself in before you do - with his eyes closed, listening to the rustling of your movement. He waits and waits for what feels like an eternity until your body weight dips on the other side of the bed.

He can feel you. Your body radiating a pleasant warmth - the smell of hotel soap and your skin cream and whatever detergent you always use. He buries his face into his pillow to try and mask his burning humiliations but his mind feels so blank. If he moves an inch your bodies would be touching - the lights are off but the city is bright enough that it doesn’t matter. Tamaki shuts his eyes and prays for something. Not entirely sure what, but something.

You move around and bristle against him - and he flinches.

“Tamaki, you okay? Sorry about that -”

Your voice has gone low in the night, soft and gentle. He squirms. Unsure what to do with this leftover frustration, he hugs his pillow to his body and buries his face in it.

“‘m fine,”

“.. You sure? You seem kinda off. You can talk to me,”

Your assurance is gentle. It makes Tamaki feel strange. You’re lucky he can’t see you because your smile would give you away. He’s so obvious it hurts you, but you play nice. You can be mean later, soon so for now - you play nice.

He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t know what to do with himself. His cock twitches pathetically in his pants and he freezes. His body runs cold with a shiver. You turn to face his back.

Tamaki feels like prey more than ever. Like most predators, you know when to sink your teeth in. He’s not exception not really. You scoot closer to him, voice just a whisper.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Tamaki?”

He can’t answer, but he shakes his head.

“No? Then what is it?”

You’re close. Too close. He trembles as your body presses against his back - let’s out a noise.

“Use your words, Tama - I won’t bite. Why do you feel like this, hm?”

Your hands hover above him. His body shudders. His voice hiccups, a sob deep within his ribcage pouring out of him. It becomes clearer than ever that he needs you to touch him. Shame blooms in his belly.

“I won’t touch you till you say yes” ― you sound amused, the kind he’s learned to recognize ― “If you want to go to sleep, just say the word”

He breaks. Shatters into pieces as a tremor tears through him.

“Please,”

“Please what?”

“Touch me, touch me please - can’t,”

Your hands come up under his shirt, pinching his nipples as you place a kiss to his shoulder. His back arches, whimpering as his eyes shoot open. Your breath ghosts along the nape of his neck, your hands settled at his chest.

“Okay” ― you soothe ― “Turn around for me, baby”

Baby. Tamaki shudders as he flips over to face you. You reach over to flip the lights on - only a gap between you two. His brain feels like it’s melting - your face is so close to his own. You give him a small smile - eyes brimming with tears and expression burning red. You reach your hand to wrap around his neck and bring him towards, kissing him feverishly. He moans when he feels your tongue in his mouth.

He kisses you eagerly, hands frozen at his side as your tongue explores his mouth. Outlines his teeth, brushes against his own - he melts into the touch. He whines disappointedly when you stop.

Your hand cups his face.

“You’re such a pervert, Tamaki” ― you grin, brushing your thumb against his lower lip befores ticking it in his mouth ― “Got so antsy without me. You like being teased so much?”

Not in a spot to deny it, he merely shuts his eyes.

“...why did you stop t-teasing me?”

You chuckle, kissing the shell of his ear as your hands slide up his waist, around his body.

“I thought you didn’t like it baby,”

He muffles himself, mumbling about how he didn’t think he did either. Your hand travels down, squeezes his hard cock from his pajama pants. Gasping for air, he moans and ruts into your palm.

“You like when I’m mean to you, Tama? Like when I make fun of you ‘n tease you?”

“Hnggh”

You hold a hand up to his mouth with a warm smile.

“Spit”

His eyes go wide as you blink at him curiously. A pang of shame hits as he spits into your palm weakly, watching through lidded eyes as your hand travels to his cock - just underneath his sweats. His hands fist the sheets as you pump him lazily.

“You’re cock is so red ‘n pretty, Tamaki”

“You’re ― hic ― you’re m-making fun of me”

“’s that why you’re so hard? It’s drooling all over my hand. You’re so wet - they’re gonna have to change our sheets in the morning” ― you tease ― “They’re gonna know how lewd you are bunny, so much keeps coming out when I touch you”

He shakes his head, grits his teeth. He can feel himself creaming into your fist, overwhelmed by your touch. His eyes are screwed so tight it aches. So lost in pleasure and the sound of your voice humiliating him.

“You like being my little fucktoy, bunny? Like when I treat you like a pet and play with you whenever I like?,”

“Aaah, aah - pl-please” ― he shakes his head furiously ― “can’t t-take it, please”

“Bet you’re gonna make the cutest face when I let you fuck my pussy,”

His eyes shoot open as he feels you scoot closer to him. You pull his pants down swiftly - your hand covered in pre-cum. He watches with wide eyes as you pull your own shorts down, a string of arousal trailing down your thigh. Tamaki watches it with hearts in his eyes, making you laugh deeply. It’s an affirmation that you meant everything you said - that he was making you like that too. It’s enough to make him sniffle.

He watches as you lift your leg up - tugging his cock towards you. It’s pretty - thin and long and so red it’s almost purple. Your cunt envelops it . Clit throbbing against the tip, Tamaki’s sure he’ll cum if he moves. You grind against him so slowly, bringing his face towards you.

His mouth drops open as you kiss him. His dick is twitching relentlessly at the way you gasp.

“Feel how wet you make me when you look all pathetic?”

“Can I please, nghh - can you please let me,”

“Wanna cream inside me, bunny? Wanna fuck me so bad you’d do anything?”

He nods rapidly. A silent scream leaves his mouth as you adjust - slide yourself right down onto his cock. You feel so much better then he could ever picture. Soft and tight and warm and wet - like pure fucking velvet. His hands dip into your hips for support. Through lidded eyes, he watches your hand come down between your thighs.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t - ‘m gonna,”

You feel him spurt his hot cum into you with a loud, broken cry. His throat, sored from exhaustion, doesn’t serve him any better when you start moving. Fucking yourself on his overstimulated, half-hard cock with face paced rhythm. Your fuckin his cum right back into you and he’s sobbing through the overstimulation. His mind feels so broken - so pliant and obedient.

“’s too much ― ! p-please, can’t”

“Shh, ‘sokay baby,” ― you groan, meeting him in a kiss that manages to overwhelm him even more ― “Fuck, gonna cum, fuck”

The tension in your gut snaps like a rubber band and your whole body spams. Clenching down so tightly on Tamaki, he sobs. You’re whispering good-boy and other praises until you’re down and sobered from your high.

When you open your eyes - Tamaki is staring at you in amazement. His cock has gone soft inside you but you don’t bother telling him to pull out.

“You did so good baby,” ― you kiss the crown of his head ― “good job”

He feels small and warm under your touch. A blush forms on his cheeks, words completely failing him to express himself. You don’t make him. Brushing your thumb against his cheeks, you smile.

“I know I tease you a lot, Tama - but I really do like you,’

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He shrinks when he hears you giggle, flushing.

“I.. I l-like you too”

You chuckle, petting his hair and burying his face in your chest. You let your chin rest atop his head and nod.

“Then we’ll have to talk more tomorrow. Let’s sleep, okay?”

He blushes, embarrassed but content..

“O-okay..”

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#tamaki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #tamaki x you #tamaki x y/n #knk ;; [ overstimulation ]#knk ;; [ degradation ]#sub!tamaki #sub!bnha

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thornedrose44 · 4 years ago

Note

For prompts: Kara and Lena holding hands for the first time. One of them tentatively reaching our, their fingers brushing until they are intertwined and the other gives a small affirming squeeze.

A/N: Okay so when I first saw this prompt I missed the first time part. So therefore enjoy this angsty hurt/comfort mess filled with love that I think is becoming my signature genre.

Stretch. Dig in. Pull.

Lena’s entire body was in agony. Complete and total agony.

Her legs were probably broken as well as a few ribs. Her right arm was numb and immobile which probably should have been the most concerning but at this stage Lena was just grateful that there was one part of her body that wasn’t pure pain.

Stretch. Dig in. Pull.

Two-hundred and fifty metres. A mile. A hundred miles. It might as well have been the distance to the moon and back.

Lena wasn’t even sure that she had managed to cover more than a couple of metres with how she was dragging herself forward mere inches at a time with her one good arm.

She stretched out her left arm into the cracked and broken earth, digging her forearm in with the minimal strength she could muster (her teeth gritted and jaw clenched the whole time) before pulling her broken body forward.

Stretch. Dig in. Pull.

It didn’t matter that she was making minimal progress, it didn’t matter that the pain was so intense she was close to blacking out every time she dragged herself forward. It didn’t matter because all she could see was the crumpled blue and red heap at the centre of the battlefield.

All she could see was Kara and there wasn’t a force on this - or any other - planet that could stop Lena from reaching her.

Alex would be coming for them, Lena didn’t doubt that, would be racing through the ruins of National City to get to her sister but that did nothing to ease the unbearable fear that Kara’s immobile body evoked. Lena couldn’t just lie there not when Kara was in sight.

An alien invasion of epic proportions had required a full scale evacuation of the city and, unfortunately, this time there was no lead weakness that they could exploit. It was their weapons versus Earth’s weapons which came in the form of two powerful kryptonians.

Kara was the heavy weapon, taking the brunt of the attacks to protect the citizens she cared for so deeply whilst firing back with heat vision that eviscerated their ships. Superman was on rescue operations pulling people from rubble and hurrying them along.

Lena had been working with the DEO, tweaking weapons and plans to beat the enemy, when she saw the sight of Kara bruised and bloodied on the screens. It was then Lena did what she had promised herself she would never do.

Had promised herself the second she had seen Lex power-crazy and at his cruelest that she would never follow in his footsteps.

Would never ever, ever put on Lex’s suit.

That version of her had never been in love.

That version of her had never seen Kara hurt.

That version of her had never wanted to inflict pain like she did in that moment.

She unlocked her most secure vault and unleashed the one weapon that made her physically sick to look at.

Lena had been in the air and joining the fight less than a minute later, appearing out of nowhere to shield Kara’s faltering body from a rocket.

Lena looked over her shoulder as her kinetic field absorbed the explosion, watching as Kara’s face morphed from shock to gratefulness to concern.

“Lena, what-” Kara panted, unable to fully summon the energy to shout.

“You’re not doing this alone!” Lena yelled back in return, green eyes desperate for Kara to understand.

“Lena…” Kara cried, blue eyes distraught at Lena being involved, at Lena getting hurt but most importantly of her wearing the suit that she knew Lena despised to save her.

“Together, Kara!” Lena shouted to break through the kryptonian’s mental spiral. “You promised, Kara. You promised! There’s nothing we can’t do together.”

Blue eyes slowly cleared to be replaced with sharp, determined focus.

Kara had made that promise to her everyday since they stopped Lex. Had made that promise to her whenever Lena’s guilt created even a slither of physical distance between them. Had made that promise to Lena whenever there was an awkward moment or fumbled conversation. Had made that promise to Lena every game’s night when she claimed Lena as her partner. Had made that promise to Lena whenever they came close to crossing the line of friendship that had been growing fuzzier and fuzzier with each movie night they had spent cuddled up in each other’s arms.

“El Mayarah.” Kara murmured clear and proud, jaw lifting up and a familiar righteous fire flickering in her eyes.

“Up, up and away?” Lena teased, priming her jets in readiness.

“Up, up and away.” Kara repeated, hand twitching by her side as if she was about to reach out for Lena so that they could soar up into the sky together.

***

It was the final ship that took them both down and created a crater that wiped out at least two streets.

Lena hit the ground first - though Kara followed less than a heartbeat later - the Lexsuit taking the brunt of the impact and saving her life but leaving her body wrecked. Crawling out of that hunk of twisted metal had been more traumatising than the terrifying plummet to Earth and knowing - because she could see Kara’s unconscious form falling nearby - that Supergirl would be unable to catch her.

Stretch. Dig in. Pull.

The closer she got to her red and blue goal, the more her hope dwindled, the more her heart broke causing an ache that surpassed all of her physical injuries.

Kara was so still.

Kara, who Lena inextricably linked to activity, motion… life.

Kara, whose ever restless legs bounced through meetings and close games of chess.

Kara, whose fingers constantly sought to make contact with Lena’s hand or to brush through Lena’s hair.

Kara, who was ever quick to spring to her feet and sweep Lena into a hug.

She should not be still in this dead wasteland as Lena crawled towards her.

Lena’s strength gave out a couple of feet away from Kara, her arm unable to pull herself forward. A scream of frustration and anguish ripped from Lena’s throat at being denied the comfort of simply touching the person she loved so much in the world when she was so close.

Her fingers stretched and stretched, clawing at the blackened earth, Kara’s pale finger milimetres from reach.

Stretch…

Lena inhaled sharply as her fingers made fleeting contact, hope rekindling in her chest.

Stretch…

Lena’s index and middle finger curled slowly around Kara’s index finger, intertwining them together with that single contact point.

“Kara…” Lena breathed.

She was grateful for this connection. Grateful to be with Kara in any way possible but still finding it not to be enough.

She was greedy. Greedy for more. Greedy for everything.

So this could not be how it ended. She and Kara would not end here.

“Kara.” Lena repeated urgently. “Please, Kara.”

She squeezed Kara’s finger with all the strength she had left in her.

“Not like this.” Lena begged. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

The returning squeeze of her finger was so light, so tender that Lena could have easily imagined it except for how heartbreakingly familiar it was.

It was how Kara always touched her: soft and gentle.

It was all the affirmation Lena needed. She knew then that this wasn’t the end of them. She knew then, as she slipped into a deep slumber awaiting the rescue that was undoubtedly coming, that everything would be okay.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #prompt

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siremasterlawrence · 2 years ago

Text

Part 1: Filling In Detective Grayson

Part 1 - 2

Detective Richard Grayson woke up in New York City prison system jail sighing as he woke up.

Rolling on to the twin bed kicking the sheet off of him the as cool airs washes over him.

His leg swings off of the bed on to the harsh cold floor in sweaty heat sweating on my skin.

Detective Dick Grayson is so restless after the crazy nightmare he had about his life.

He personally attacks a police troop to get a one way ticket in to a jail cell.

He could not forgive himself for all the hell that has broke loose.

He went out of him mind needing to punish himself.

Attacking cops a department he use of work for, absolutely no reason to except the pain.

He sits up head placing in to his hand as he pats it down.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Dick swears to himself.

“Who the hell was that?” He ask himself as he contemplates it.

“Uuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh!” He sighs a bit.

“I am dreaming, I must be dreaming”

“The shadow is following me everywhere”

“I can’t stop thinking”

“Dick…Dick Grayson”

“Who? What?”

“DICK”

Part 3 - 4

Detective Grayson sits back onto the prison bed as the lights flow into the room.

The prison doors sliding open up for him to escape, Dick jumps up to see this event to unfold.

His mouth drops in a gulp he rises to his feet moving ever forward uncontrollably.

He exist the door in the main hall floor to see the place completely evacuated.

He spins his entire body checking out every cell, room and private station.

Running miles down the hallway to the floor elevator and pressing all the buttons.

“Who are you? Leave me be”

“Leave me one immediately”

“Cease this action already”

“Oh ok! I am on board”

“Will be safe “

“I’ll go to Titans Tower”

The elevator stops cold unable to move on after three floors of dropping.

The lights start to flicker on and off roaming through the shaft.

Dick freaks out backing in to the back of the shaft, the wall of hits his back hard.

A cold air flows from the air vent in to his body rising and filling up the room.

Dick is shaking cold wrapping his arms over each other and he shivers.

Dick takes a deep breath inhaling it and then blows it out the seeing it clearly.

Part 5 - 6

“What do you exist for Mr. Grayson?”

“I am a crime fighter”

“I save people”

“No, you don’t save people”

“You hurt them Dick”

“No-I-I “

“You what?”

“I don’t know”

“Say it”

“I destroy them”

“You harm others and yourself”

“You are damaged beyond repair”

“You could have killed me”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I am your God”

“You are a mere human”

“Shut up!”

“You have no choice but to submit”

Part 7 - 8

The elevator rushes down to the basement the shaft loses it hitting the ground.

The elevator broke apart leaping onto the ground and Dick goes blank.

He blanks out a bit as his feet start to move on their own on to the street.

A unmark car zooms up the door sliding on to the curve.

Dick walks in to the car as he drives off in to the road.

The car blast past all of the craziness on the street.

“Where are we going? Who are you? Am I drunk?”

“Ugh! I feel sick. What’s going on?”

“God! Who am I?”

“Are we here?”

“Yeah! Get out!”

“Your that guy”

“Which guy?”

“The one on the elevator “

“It’s me, your maker”

“Are you gone? Disappeared?”

“Oh? I am here”

“I am everywhere”

Part 9 - 10

“Hear me Grayson feel the flow”

“Of what?”

“Down the road, take a walk”

“Keep moving”

“You see that mirror “

“It is so gold”

“So beautiful “

“I am in your ear”

“Give in to the night, the darkness”

“I love you “

“Aaaaaaahhhhhh”

“You are taking over my body”

My laughter breaks our ricocheting on the walls bouncing back and forth.

The walls hit his ears hard sending him cool and loose.

He falls to his knees once more falling on go his face.

I step in to his body slipping in to as I fill out in to his body.

I swoop taking control of it blanking out all that he considers to be Dick Grayson.

“You are mine now.

The end

#Filling In Hypno

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kimvvantae · 4 years ago

Text

puzzle; 8 (FINAL)

➜ you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex

rating: 18+

word count: 16k

A/N: finally the last chapter! i am actually feeling very emotional right now. i enjoyed writing puzzle so much and it received so much love since the beginning! your feedback always kept me motivated to write. thank you so much to everyone that followed these two dorks and waited patiently for every update. i hope we can meet again in future works!

hmmm, a little rec?? but i listened to sweet night by taehyung as i wrote this chapter. maybe listening to it will enhance your experience too!

enjoy!

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

You don’t know how long it has been until Taehyung finds you.

It’s cold. The tears have finally come to a halt, but you’re still sobbing and sniffling. You should probably get up and go home. It’s late. Not safe to be alone on the street like this. You should probably call an uber or something.

Yet, every time you think of Jungkook’s tears, it seems that your own eyes well up with tears all over again.

What makes you snap back into reality is the sound of shoes walking down the stairs.

You get up in a jump, feeling your legs ache in the process, and turn around to see the person you least expected to see right now. Taehyung stops some steps ahead. The light pole behind him marks his silhouette with a halo.

“I finally found you,” he says after a few seconds. He sounds hesitant but somehow relieved.

It makes your heart clench even more.

You make an immense effort to speak, as if words ran over inside your throat and made it stuck. Well, they did, in a sense.

“Taehyung, w-what…?” is all you can stutter. You don’t really need to finish the sentence. What are you doing here? Why did you come after me even though I hurt you?

He looks down and caresses the back of his neck. You notice that he’s nervously fiddling with his car keys on the other hand. Oh. He probably didn’t want to be around you, either.

“Well, you ran away down the street like that. I got worried.”

You shouldn’t.

“It’s… not safe to be by yourself on the street like this. I’m taking you home.”

Please, don’t be kind to me.

It will be much harder if you’re being kind to me.

“Taehyung, I…” you feel yourself squeezing your purse against you, just as nervous as he is. You don’t want to bother him with your presence anymore. “I was about to call an uber. You don’t need to…”

“It’s alright. I’m already here anyway.” He starts to walk up the stairs again without looking back. Without giving you a chance to disagree. “Let’s go.”

It seems that your legs forgot how to walk as you watch him. You don’t want to get inside his car. You don’t want to face him, not right now.

When Taehyung reaches the top of the stair alley, he finally looks back at you in silence.

That’s when you realize that you have to face him. You were never one to run away from the consequences of your actions.

The newest consequence is staring back at you in quiet sadness.

You inhale deeply before going after him.

An awful silence hovers in the air during the entire ride home.

You can’t help but shrink on the passenger’s seat, hugging your own arms tight, your head leaning on the window. Taehyung does not make any attempt to engage a conversation. His presence is suffocating.

Something cold sets in your stomach when he parks the car in front of your apartment’s building. There’s nothing out there to distract you anymore. Nowhere else to run to.

You inhale again.

“Thank you.” you say softly.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he rests his hands on his lap. You watch him intently as he gulps, his eyes glued in something ahead.

“So.” He starts, his voice as low as yours. This is painful. It was never your intention to put him in that situation, never. “I don’t want to take a drunk man seriously.”

It’s your turn to gulp. You really really don’t want to explain everything to him in detail. “Mike is a son of a bitch. He got it all wrong.”

“It seems that he got one thing right, though. Judging by Jungkook’s reaction.”

It’s getting difficult to breathe again.

Taehyung turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Are you guys…?”

You honestly feel like jumping out the window, but your feelings for Taehyung make you stay still. He’s a kind friend. He deserves to hear it clearly.

So you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Jungkook and I, we… we were never a real thing. Not really.” It hurts to say this out loud. It seems that you can still hear his broken voice…

There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.

“B-But recently I realized that I have feelings for him.”

Taehyung nods slowly and sinks on the driver's seat. He rests his chin on his hand, letting a shaky deep breath out.

“Why did you call me today, then?”

“To tell you the truth.”

He gasps softly and shakes his head again. Taehyung has completely broken eye contact with you and his body language looks protective - building an almost visible wall between you and him in seconds.

“Wow. It seems that I was the one who got it all wrong.”

You feel like touching him to give him even a little bit of comfort, yet you know that you’re his main discomfort in the moment. You turn your body in his direction, pleading.

“Taehyung, it wasn’t meant to happen this way. I didn’t want to hurt you, not at all. I know that an apology won't be enough...”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you. His voice sounds strange, so different from how he has ever talked to you. He’s very quiet, but you can feel the anger and hurt lying underneath. “We never had anything anyway. I was the delusional one here.”

No, not again. You don’t think you can take more guilt for one night. You didn’t just delude him going on that date; you deluded him every time you talked, every time you texted each other. Taehyung saw something more when there was nothing at all - he felt something more, and you were too confused with your own feelings for Jungkook to notice what you were doing.

“Taehyung…”

“I’m feeling very ashamed right now.” He admits with a shaky exhale. “Could you…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know very well what he meant. Leave.

You nod and open the door into the cold night. You still stand there on the sidewalk hesitantly for a few seconds before whispering a shy “I’m sorry”. Taehyung doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

When you shut the door, you know very well that from now on, your friendship with Taehyung is also shut.

You’ll miss him really bad.

It feels like you can barely carry the weight of your own body as you slowly make your way to your apartment - which is weird, because you feel empty right now.

Your apartment isn’t as empty as you expected when you open the door, though. Seulgi is standing on the kitchen counter and she smiles wide when she sees you. She looks excited in a way she hasn’t been in months; it seems that she’s about to say something.

Her smile dies as she sees your puffy face and your red nose and eyes.

“Y/N, what happened…?”

For some reason, when you look at her, you start crying again.

Seulgi wides her eyes and runs to where you’re standing, shocked and confused - probably because you have never cried in front of her yet. Never.

“Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”

You can’t answer because the sobs won’t let you. You can just rest your face on Seulgi’s shoulder as she hugs you, patting your back. She is so confused that she can’t really think of anything else to do.

After a few minutes of restless crying, Seulgi manages to lead you to sit on the couch and runs back to the kitchen to take a glass of water. She sits by your side and hands you the glass, caressing your hair sweetly.

“Can you talk now, babe? What happened?” She asks again quietly as you try to drink a little bit of water.

You wipe the tears away once again and sniff. This place reminds you of him way too much. It feels that he belongs here, even though it’s not his home. And maybe… maybe he won’t ever step inside, ever again.

“I-It’s J-Jungkook.” it’s hard to speak between the sobs.

“Did you guys fight?” You nod weakly. “Was it that bad?”

Yes. Yes, it was.

After months of pretending, you finally open up to Seulgi. There’s no reason to keep this from her anymore. After Mike’s scandal, that’s probably everything the whole campus will be talking about in the next few days (you saw a lot of familiar faces at the bar).

It seems that Seulgi’s eyes will pop out of her face as you speak.

She stares at you, jaw dropped in pure shock.

“You and Jungkook what?!” is the first thing she exclaims. “Since when?!”

You rest your back on the couch and gaze at the ceiling. The sobs have finally stopped, at least. “Do you remember when I broke up with Mike? When we went to that club?”

“Yes, and you spent the night out…” Seulgi trails off as realization hits her. She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “That guy you were talking about was Jungkook?!”

You just nod.

Seulgi gasps and rests her back on the couch right by your side, your arms touching. She’s speechless for a while.

“But, like… how many times?”

“I don’t know.” She gasps again.

“That many times?”

You nod. “It was almost daily at some point.”

It seems that she can’t close her jaw anymore. “Where?”

“Here. His apartment. His car.” You frown. “Sometimes a cheap hotel downtown, when you and Jimin were both home.”

Seulgi stays quiet for a little longer.

You side eye her. “You didn’t suspect?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I thought you guys were acting strange for a while now, but I never thought this was going on.” She looks back at you. “Did someone know?”

“Jimin caught us once.” you decide to omit where he caught you. It’s embarrassing to say that you fucked inside Joy’s bathroom out loud and it makes you feel even worse. “But he promised to not tell anyone."

Back to silence. You can almost hear the engines inside Seulgi’s brain trying to process everything you just told her.

“But why did you guys fight?”

You take a deep breath before telling her the rest. Taehyung, Joy, Mike, Yeri. It’s quite painful to explain, but it’s also relieving.

If you thought Seulgi looked shocked before, now it looks like she just found out that Santa is real.

She completely turns her body in your direction, eyes super wide. “Do you like Jungkook?”

You nod softly, staring at your own fingers.

“It’s more than just liking him.” You admit sheepishly.

Then she’s quiet for a long, long time. You decide to finally look up at her.

Now you’re surprised.

“Why the hell are you smiling?”

Seulgi hides her mouth with both hands - as if this wouldn’t let you see the big ass grin on her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s… it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you quirk one eyebrow. “My suffering is cute to you?”

“That’s not what I mean.” she waves her hand dismissively. “I always kind of shipped you two, okay? It’s just that you two looked really good together and you always had such good chemistry and all. But I tried to stop thinking this because, you know, I thought it was wrong to assume that a man and a woman can’t be just friends… and it never looked like you had feelings for him, not at all.”

You stare at her as if she has a second head growing now. “You shipped us?”

“You can’t judge me.”

You cross your arms and sink on the couch even more. This is kind of shocking. “You never thought I liked him?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “Never. Jungkook, though…”

You turn your head to look at her so fast that your neck almost breaks. “What about him?”

She hesitates a little bit before speaking. “Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.”

There it is again. The fast beating of your heart. It’s ridiculous that, even though you’re this miserable, you still feel this spark of happiness inside of you.

For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you!

You press your lips tight in an attempt to hold back the uninvited smile. It’s not appropriate to feel happy now; it feels that you don’t even have the right to feel happy at all. But his confession is hitting you just now. Hitting you like a truck.

God, if only you could go back in time. If only you could just make him shut the fuck up and listen to you. Why did he have to be so damn dramatic?

I love you too, dumbass! Now stop being a cry baby and kiss me!

What if Jungkook never gives you a chance to explain yourself? He can be hard-headed when he wants to. What if Jungkook never lets you get close to him again, what if your intimacy finally dies, what if you get so distant that when you’re in the same room you can’t bear each other’s presence anymore? What if from now on, there won’t be any Jungkook to steal your fries when you’re not looking, or to let you steal his clothes even though he pretends he doesn’t know you’re taking them, or to help you understand a difficult assignment, or to annoy you because he’s bored at 4AM, or to tell you the things no one else would be brave enough to tell you or to just be there when you needed someone the most?

Your brain can’t even comprehend what life without Jungkook is.

A mix of despair and hurry makes you get up in a jump.

“I’m going to his apartment.” Your breath is irregular, adrenaline taking control of your actions. “I-I need to talk to him now.”

“Hey, hey!” Seulgi gets up in a jump and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to stop. “Y/N, you’re not okay. And you said Jungkook is drunk. Do you really think you’ll manage to have a civilized conversation right now? He’s probably still angry, maybe he won’t even listen to you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll shout on his door until he listens to me.”

Seulgi holds you in place again when you try to free yourself from her grip. “This is not a good idea and you know it.” She looks at you very seriously. “Take a shower, Y/N. Go to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll both be cold-headed and able to talk.”

“B-But,” you feel the tears coming back. Fuck. You hold Seulgi’s arms weakly. “But he needs to know the truth. He needs to know I like him back.”

The black-haired girl frowns. “Like him back…?”

You nod and look down. “He… he said that he’s in love with me.”

“Really?!” Seulgi huffs and taps your forehead lightly. “Then why are you so desperate?! He loves you back, dummy!”

“But I’m scared, Seulgi.” You sniff.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you into another hug. “Everything will be okay, Y/N. There’s no need to be worried. You already know the most important. Tomorrow you go talk to him, alright?” She chuckles softly. “Never thought I’d see you acting like this.”

You sniff again. “Now you understand how it is to deal with a stupid lovesick roommate.”

“Ouch.” You notice how she pats your back a bit aggressively. “But for real, Y/N… I’ll always be thankful for what you did today to me and Irene. Even though it was none of your business. And I’ll probably beat you up if you ever intervene in my life like that again-”

“Wow, I really see how you’re thankful, Seul.” She chuckles again.

"And I'm kind of offended that you hid this from me for so long."

"We promised we wouldn't tell anyone about this!"

"Alright, alright." She sighs. “I love you so much, you crackhead. And Jungkook loves you, too. You don’t need to be sad anymore, okay? Just take a shower and go to sleep now.”

You nod weakly.

Maybe she’s right. You’ll have enough time to talk to him tomorrow.

But you don’t think you’ll get any sleep right now.

***

[you]: jungkook

[you]: can we talk?

[you]: we really really need to talk

[you]: can i go to your place?

[you]: please

[you]: i know you’re reading

[you]: stop ignoring me

[you]: jungkook

[you]: JUNGKOOK

You sigh heavily. This is so frustrating. He didn’t even leave you on read - you’re sure he’s just reading the texts on the notifications and swiping them away. He didn’t block your number, which is a good sign, but this is already getting on your nerves. You’ve been texting since early in the morning (because you couldn’t sleep) and it’s already 5PM.

“He’s ignoring my texts.” You whine to Seulgi as you enter the living room.

“You said he had things to do today, right? Maybe he’s actually busy.” She says as she checks her makeup on the mirror. It’s been a long time since you saw her getting all pretty like this; she did her nails, made curls on her hair, put on that green skirt she bought months ago but never wore it. This is what being happy and in love looks like. Pretty, well-dressed, nice hair, healthy skin and all.

Meanwhile, your hair looks like a bird nest, you’re wearing the ugly Naruto t-shirt you have since middle school, your entire face is swollen and you have bags under your eyes. This is also what being in love looks like, unfortunately.

“Why don’t you just go to his apartment already?”

“You told me not to do it.”

“I told you not to do it yesterday. Today he’s not drunk anymore.”

You cross your arms. “I’m… I’m still kind of nervous.”

Seulgi turns around and looks at you and quirks her eyebrow. There’s the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I never thought I’d see you nervous because of anyone. You look like a teenager…”

"I swear to God, if you say that you think I look cute one more time I'll fucking kill you."

Seulgi laughs and runs to you again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Y/N, do you remember how you were always telling me that I was complicating simple things?"

"Yes."

She lifts her eyebrows. "So."

You roll your eyes and huff. "But it's not that easy!"

"Now you understand how I felt, huh?" Her eyes soften again. "For real, though. If you show up at his door he won't ignore you, I'm sure. Just go."

You sigh again and nod. "You're right. Just… let me build some courage, okay?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She looks a bit worried. "I could go out with Irene another day."

"No, no. Go on your date." You wave your hands. "I'm not gonna die. Also, your pussy must be dusty after so long-"

She smacks your shoulder a bit too strongly as you let yourself laugh for the first time today.

When Seulgi leaves, you still stand in the middle of the living room for a good while. Like a Sim whose action has just been cancelled.

Whoever is playing you is really evil for putting all the wrong people in the wrong places past night.

You know that you’re not being rational. You should have gone to his house a long time ago… but something holds you back. Perhaps because now there’s no turning back. You know what you feel for Jungkook and you know what he feels for you - your relationship got completely out of its comfort zone, and now you can’t even pretend anymore. Things won’t ever be the same.

Maybe Jungkook is ignoring you because he’s embarrassed of what Mike did. He basically exposed you two in front of his friends. Sure, that’s none of no one’s business, but still… Jungkook didn’t want anyone to know about it in the first place.

You stare at your phone for a good while. Your reflection on the phone’s screen stares back at you in disgust.

For the hundredth time today, you unlock it and open Jungkook’s number. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard hesitantly.

[you]: jungkook i know youre mad at me and you have all the rights to be but

You frown and delete the text. It doesn’t sound good.

[you]: can you stop being dramatic and just text me back already?

You feel tempted to send this one, but if Jungkook’s angry, this will only make the situation worse. You sigh and try again one more time

[you]: i just really want to talk. you didnt let me speak last night. i know youre probably busy but please. i wont take much of your time

This one sounds about right. You tap the send button.

Then, your fingers mindlessly type one more text. It makes your heart beat fast just looking at it.

[you]: i love you too

You want to send this one so bad.

But you don’t.

Because this isn’t something to be told by text.

Coward! the angry voice of your consciousness yells in your mind. Stop being a coward! You’re an evolved human being, not a stupid teenager! Get this ass up the couch and go meet him!

You get up in a jump.

“I’m not a coward!” you say out loud. If you weren’t this out of your mind, you would have noticed how stupid it was to scream encouraging words by yourself in the living room.

But you don’t care right now.

You don’t care that your face is all puffy and the dark circles around your eyes make you look like a raccoon. You don’t care that you’re wearing your ulgy Naruto t-shirt with old ketchup stains, and you don’t care that you’re wearing the sweatpants that fall down your butt as you walk, and you don’t care that your hair looks like a living animal.

You just straight out leave your home and march to his. Flip flops and all.

Your heart beats at a stupid race as you walk, the sun already disappearing behind the buildings. The anxious part of your brain keeps reminding you that you don’t know what to say when you meet him and you don’t know what his reaction will be, but you shut this whiny voice up. Being with Jungkook always meant that you didn’t have to think a lot in the first place. Being with him is natural, it takes no effort. When you see him you’ll know what to say. You’re sure.

Yet, you can’t help but feel more and more nervous as you enter his apartment building (you never needed to ask permission to enter). You close your hands in fists, gulp multiple times, your heartbeat sounds like drums on your ears.

Your hand hovers over the door.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. It’s real. It’s happening. Come on. Don’t be a coward.

After taking one more deep breath, you finally knock on the door.

There’s noise inside. Steps. Fuck, you’re shaking.

You hear the sound of the door unlocking and you hold your breath ready to face him-

Jimin.

He widens his eyes and blinks.

“Oh. Hi, Jimin.” you say awkwardly. Why is he looking at you this way? “Hm, is Jungkook home?”

Jimin looks hesitant for a moment.

“No.”

It’s your turn to widen your eyes. So that’s why he isn't texting you back. This makes you a bit relieved.

“Is… is he working?” You can’t hide your disappointment.

“Not yet. He starts tomorrow.”

You put your hands on your waist and walk from side to side as Jimin just watches you in silence.

“Jimin, at what time he’ll be home tomorrow? Do you think it’ll be too late in the night? I really need to talk to him, but that fucker keeps ignoring my texts.”

You don’t like the face Jimin is making now.

You really don’t like it.

He scratches the back of his neck and frowns. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

This makes you stop.

“Tell me what?”

Jimin exhales and gulps.

“He told you that he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, right? That director.”

“Yes.” Each word of his makes you more and more worried.

“So… this project he’s involved in…” Jimin licks his lips before continuing. “It’s overseas.”

You stare at him in silence as this information sinks in.

“Overseas?! Are you telling me he fucking left the country?!”

“Yes.”

You can’t believe what you just heard.

“B-But- yesterday Jungkook and I were planning to go out! This makes no sense!”

“Well,” Jimin looks hesitant again. “In fact, his flight is tomorrow morning, but he left earlier because we kind of had an argument.” He sends you an apologetic gaze. “He was drunk yesterday and all and I was trying to calm him down and I might have accidentally let it slip that I knew about you two, and this kinda pissed him off even more because, well, he was drunk and you know how Jungkook gets stupid when he’s drunk, so I think he left to his parent’s house and he’ll head to the airport tomo- wait, are you crying?!”

You sniff and hide your face behind your hands.

“Oh my God,” Jimin sounds confused and borderline panicked as he watches you start sobbing again. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“B-Because h-he-!” you can’t fucking speak anymore.

Jimin puts a hand on your back and guides you to sit on the couch. He brings some tissues and pats your back awkwardly as you cry and sob like stupid.

“W-Why didn’t he tell me he was l-leaving?” you ask yourself.

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, it’s not like he’s leaving forever. It’s just for this project. He’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“B-But he would’ve told me something so important!” You blow your nose. Jimin frowns. “I didn’t know this project was so huge! What, is it a movie or something?”

“It’s a music video.” You stare at Jimin in disbelief. “Jungkook has been around the recording studio with Namjoon and Yoongi a lot. He ended up meeting Mr. Choi, who has been directing some music videos for Big Hit Records’ artists. He liked Jungkook’s work and invited him to work as an assistant… I mean, the assistant of the assistant, as Jungkook himself said.”

You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop. “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

Jimin’s eyes soften. “Your friendship hasn’t been in the best shape these days, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

You rest your elbows on your legs and hide your face behind your hands again. You didn’t want to be crying this bad again, yet you just can’t stop. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore. Jimin just caresses your back in silence as your sobs start quieting down.

“You were right,” you say at some point.

“What?”

“When you told me not to hurt him. I was hurting him and I didn’t even realize. I’m so stupid.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Y/N. You were both stupid.” You side eye him.

“Jungkook said that he’s in love with me.” This makes him quirk his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“You don’t look very surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Did… did he tell you?”

“No.”

“Was it that obvious?”

Jimin presses his lips together hesitantly. “Do you want me to comfort you or do you want me to be honest?”

“Be honest.”

“It was pretty fucking obvious that he’s in love with you. At least for me.”

You exhale and swipe your hands over your face. “I’m so stupid!” you repeat.

“Look, Y/N, to be honest, I think Jungkook is the most stupid. He was torturing himself with this fuck buddies thing, you know? He agreed to it in the first place. Everyone knows that this type of thing shouldn’t involve feelings, but he was the one to throw himself into it while he already had feelings.”

“It’s not like he’s the only one, though.”

Jimin seems about to say something, but he stops and stares at you, jaw-dropped.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

You rest your back on the couch. “I mean that I was also stupid enough to throw myself into it while having feelings.”

He’s quiet for a few more seconds.

“Do you mean that you like him back?”

You don’t answer.

Much like Seulgi, it looks like Jimin just discovered something world-shocking. “Since when? Have you liked him since the beginning?”

You sigh sadly.

“No, I haven’t. To me, it was just fun. Until I realized that he was getting too far from my reach and- and I realized that Jungkook has never been too far, never, and I don’t know what to do when he’s not around.” You sniff. You’re not talking to Jimin anymore at this point; you’re talking to yourself. “Y-You know, now that I think about it, I… I guess I understand why it was always so good. Not just because he fucks good or because of his big dick-”

“I don’t need to hear this, do I?” Jimin whines in disgust.

“-but because it was him.” One more tear rolls down your cheek. “It was good because it was with him.”

The way you always felt comfortable to be naked in front of him. How it was always lighthearted and fun and exciting. You had good sex with other people before, but never like this. Maybe because these other people didn’t have Jungkook’s handsome smile or because their eyes didn’t gleam with excitement the way his does or because they didn't smell like baby powder. Or maybe because it was never scary to be exposed in front of him because he already knew everything about you - there wasn’t really anything else to expose.

Jungkook felt like home.

Now, you feel homeless.

You wipe the tears away once more and look at Jimin-

“Why are you smiling?”

Doesn’t this scene look familiar?

“I’m sorry, it’s just that- wow, I don’t even know what to say.” Jimin doesn’t even try to hide his smile. “I’ve been waiting so long for this. Like, I kind of suspected that you had feelings for him, but I couldn’t be sure because you’re a hard bitch to read. To be honest, when I saw what you two were doing I wanted to kill you because you couldn’t be this blind to not realize how he feels about you-”

“Can you stop being honest for a moment?”

“Oh.” Jimin gulps, but he can’t stop smiling. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again and cross your arms. “What if he never lets me explain myself, Jimin?”

“Stop the drama.” Jimin’s voice hardens suddenly. “You two are very similar in this sense, you know? I’m sure that Jungkook will listen to whatever you have to say. And he’ll be away for just four days! It’s not like he’s leaving forever.”

You sit there in silence for some moments. You’re sure that if you tell that you’re scared to talk to Jungkook, he will probably beat you up. He never had that much patience.

Jimin exhales heavily and gets up. “Wait a minute.” You watch as he walks into Jungkook’s empty bedroom, frowning. He stays there for a little while. When he comes back to the living room, he stops in front of you and hands you something.

“Jungkook’s gonna kill me when he finds out, but I don’t care.”

“What is this-?”

“Just take it already. And watch it when you’re back home. It’s so personal that I got uncomfortable the first time I watched it.”

“Then why are you giving it to me-?”

“Just fucking take it, Y/N!”

You take the small device before Jimin makes you swallow it.

He smiles sweetly.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry. I’m always right.”

You stare at the small black pen drive in between your fingers.

This time, you genuinely hope he’s right.

You had honestly forgotten how it feels to get drunk.

At the same time that the dizziness feels familiar, it's also hitting you like a truck. Your friends didn't believe you when you said that you'd stop drinking, yet you've been loyal to your word. Of course, it's not like you didn't drink anything in all those months, but a single beer isn't the same as a pack of beer.

The way your body's responding to the alcohol in your system isn't right. Your stomach is already tangling around itself, you can't walk a straight line from the couch to the kitchen counter without feeling that there's holes opening on the floor, and your thoughts are more incomprehensible than usual. You'd usually not get drunk so fast - and surely not with just beer. You're the girl that was still very sober after many tequila shots that time a random date of yours was trying to get you drunk - he ended up drunk after a few shots, of course, and you left the son of a bitch alone while he vomited on himself.

Being in love sure has changed you a lot.

Look, it's not the first time you drink to forget about your problems. You've been doing that since high school and you're tired of hearing Jungkook say how this behavior is unhealthy (he's right, as usual). This time, though, you're not forgetting about your problems, you're just thinking about them more.

It doesn't help that you're listening to Seulgi's playlist on Spotify called "i miss you irene." You laughed your ass off when you found out she really made a heartbreak playlist and named it like that. "You're torturing yourself, Seulgi," you told her. I mean, why would someone sad listen to songs that will only make them more sad?

Well.

Here you are now, laying on the carpet as Spending my Time by Roxette is blasting on the speakers.

People really knew how to write heartbreak songs back in the 90s.

"Fuck you, Jungkook." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. "I'm shoving alcohol up my ass. You can't tell me what to do."

Jungkook, that fucker. Why didn’t he listen to you? Why didn’t you shut him up? If there was a way to go back in time you’d do it. You wouldn’t have kissed Taehyung, you wouldn’t let him get the wrong impression. You wouldn’t have encouraged Jungkook to be with Joy. Fuck, if you could go back in time you would have woken up that first morning in Jungkook’s bed and said that it meant a lot to sleep with him, that you were willing to not be just friends anymore.

(Of course, back then you didn’t feel that way, but you’re drunk and sad. Give yourself a break.)

Now, you can’t tell him what you feel because he’s somewhere overseas. He probably bought new clothes for such an important occasion. You imagine him being in a real set for the first time, his eyes gleaming as he watches the staff working, him trying to hold his excited smile back because he’s supposed to look professional and-

You sniff. You have a stuffy nose. Fuck.

You're so drunk that you can't really control your actions anymore. If Seulgi were here, she would probably stop you. But she's not here. She's somewhere with Irene.

So you take your phone, tap the Instagram app and start typing.

[@you]: hell o 😅😂🤣😊

[@you]: its been a log time how u doing???

[@you]: what if we meeet????

And unfortunately, she replies.

[@yerimiese]: hi 🤗

[@yerimiese]: yeah, sure!

[@yerimiese]: when can we meet?

It’s the back pain that makes you wake up the next day because you slept on the floor. You’re dizzy and confused, your poor brain trying to understand what’s happening, why you’re on the floor, why there’s so many empty beer cans around you and why your phone is flashing with notifications from last night.

When your sight finally adjusts to the light your phone screen produces, your eyes widen and you stand up in a jump, making your back ache even more.

Did you seriously DM Yeri and she seriously agreed to meet you?!

It’s currently 11:40 AM - and you agreed to meet at noon.

You run to your bedroom so fast that it makes you dizzy and you end up hitting your hip against the doorframe and it feels like you fucking broke it. You just have time to wear the first clean clothes you see laying around, tie your hair up and run to take the first bus you see.

You could’ve just told Yeri that you weren’t going anymore, of course, even though she agreed to meet you and it would’ve been kind of rude. You know it’s going to be the most awkward moment ever to see her after so long, especially now that you have feelings for her ex. Gosh - you’re already feeling so much embarrassment that you feel like jumping out of the bus and running back home. Why the fuck do you always end up doing stupid things when you’re drunk?!

But again - it’s that same chaotic side of you that makes you stay inside the bus and meet her. This chaotic side takes a good portion of your personality, it just gets more outgoing when you’re drunk. The same chaotic side that made you start some friends with benefits bullshit with your best friend just because you liked the idea of not being caught and the same chaotic side that made you passive aggressively flirt with Taehyung when you didn’t really want anything with him-

How the fuck did your friends even stand you?!

You’re forced to stop the existential crisis when you see that you arrived at the park. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

Yeri is sitting on the bus stop.

She looks prettier than you remember; her hair is short and blonde now, which makes her look more mature. Yeri was always one to walk around well dressed, but right now it feels almost humiliating that she's all pretty when you literally look like a scarecrow.

She smiles awkwardly and gets up. You didn't even say anything yet and it already feels awkward.

"I’m so sorry, Yeri,” is the first thing you say as you approach each other. “Did I make you wait too long?”

“No! It’s alright. I also got a little bit late.” She says, smiling prettily. Pretty is a word that overall describes her very well. “So, how you’re doing?”

“I’m doing fine!” You’re doing anything but fine at the moment. “What about you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Silence.

My good Lord.

You start to regret all of your life choices right here and right now. You don’t see this girl in almost a year, you’re not close anymore, you know nothing about her life. Why the fuck did you even come anyway?! The awkwardness is so big that you can almost touch it.

There’s also a small and annoying thought that grows as you watch her - a thought you try very hard to ignore, but you can’t - that this is the girl Jungkook used to fuck before he started fucking you, that he used to go down on her and that he used to be inside of her and that those pretty lips of her once were around his cock and for some reason you start getting really angry-

“Do you wanna have a drink?” Yeri suddenly says.

You blink. “Hm… it’s 12PM.”

“And?” She quirks an eyebrow.

She’s perceptive, this one. Nothing’s better to break the ice than alcohol.

You don’t even know what you’re doing here anyway, so who cares?

“Sure. I know a bar nearby.”

Yeri slams the empty glass on the counter and stares at you, shocked.

“Mike did what?!”

You nod and swallow one more shot. Your tastebuds are so used (even calloused) from this bitter taste that you don’t even scowl as the drink slides down your throat. “Yeah. It seems that he was cheating on me for a while with that bitch. I caught them inside the lab.”

Yeri stares ahead. She looks speechless. “I will be honest… I heard that he was cheating on you, but I never thought this happened.” She shakes her head slowly. “Why the fuck were they inside a lab anyways? Are they stupid?”

“The lab was deactivated. That part of the science building was being renovated.” You sigh. Reviving those memories is kind of painful right now, especially after what Mike did to you some nights ago. Honestly, he could die and you wouldn’t care. “I was looking for him. His friends told me he went in that direction… well, kinda weird that they snitched on him like that. Maybe they really didn’t know. Anyways, I still don’t know how they got the key to the lab.”

Yeri nods. “Wow… I am really, really shocked. You guys were a pretty couple.” She gesticulates with her hand. “One more shot, please.”

“Me too, please.” You say.

The bartender looks at you two with visible worry. There’s no one else in the bar - who the fuck drinks so much this early? Wait, why is this bar even opened this early? - so he’s obviously hearing your whole conversation. You wonder what’s his opinion on your fucked up love life.

“Are you sure, girls? Shouldn’t you slow down a little bit?” He asks hesitantly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Nah, we’re good.” You’re still not dizzy, just a little talkative. Getting drunk yesterday seemed to awaken all of your high tolerance superpowers. Pretty Yeri also isn’t one to get drunk that easily.

“We’re strong girls.” She reassures. The bartender shrugs as he prepares two more shots. “You seemed to like him a lot.”

“I did.” You admit.

“And he seemed to like you, too. I never expected that. Well… to be honest, Jungkook sometimes told me that he didn’t like Mike and that he was sure that he wasn’t a good guy.”

The sudden mention of his name makes you freeze. You realize that Yeri freezes, too. It seems that she’s also surprised for bringing him up like this. Yeri looks down at the new shot the bartender just placed in front of you two.

“It seems that he was right. As usual.” She finishes in a much lower voice, drinking her shot in one go.

This single sentence makes you realize that “Jungkook” is still a delicate topic for her. Of course it’d be - you don’t know much about their break up, but you sure know it was anything but friendly. Jungkook got pretty fucked up for a few weeks after their break up - and the fact that he refuses to talk about it to this day is enough of an indication.

Shit.

“Anyways, it didn’t stop there.” You decide to go back to your suffering for now, so she can get distracted. “The day before yesterday I bumped into him. He was drunk and made a scandal. Called me a bitch in front of everyone.”

Yeri gasps and looks at you wide eyed. “What? Please, tell me someone punched the fuck out of him!”

“Yeah, my friend did before I could.” You’re not telling her which friend, of course. “It was satisfying. Still made me feel really bad, though.”

“You shouldn’t. You did nothing wrong, Y/N. He’s the son of a bitch here.” Yeri reassures.

You nod and drink. “But enough of talking about my depressing love life. What about you?”

Yeri sighs, holding the small cup with both hands. “I’m doing fine, I guess. Didn’t really get serious with anyone yet. I’m seeing a guy, though. I don’t think I like him yet, but he’s about right. Who knows?” She says, shrugging.

You nod slowly. We’re getting into dangerous waters now. “I’m glad we’re both moving on, I guess.”

Yeri goes quiet for a while.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

A deep silence settles after this. You stare at the empty cup blankly, feeling the tension building up.

"I… have to be honest." Yeri starts quietly. "It was surprising that you called me after so long." She taps her nails on the counter slowly. "And I have the feeling that you called me for a very specific reason."

You nod slowly. She's not stupid. "You're right."

Yeri hesitates for a second. "You didn't… Jungkook didn't ask you to come here to talk to me, right?"

You almost gasp. Jungkook doesn't even dream that you're with her right now. "No, no. He didn't. You know I'm kinda nosy, but I have my limits too."

Yeri quirks her eyebrows and nods. You really hope that this tiny thing you saw deep in her eyes wasn't disappointment. You really hope that deep down Yeri doesn't still like him.

"So… why did you call me, then?"

You sigh. She came all this way just to meet you, so you have to at least be honest right now.

"I was drunk yesterday when I texted you."

"Oh." Yeri widens her eyes. "I thought there was something wrong with you by the way you were texting."

You chuckle. "But… I did call you because of Jungkook, somehow." You say carefully, She stiffens. "I know it's kinda cruel to do this. If you want to simply leave or if you want to slap me, I won't judge you. But… we had a really ugly fight these days and I don't know what to do. I was hoping that maybe… maybe you could help me understand him."

Yeri goes very, very quiet after this.

"Did you guys fight because of me?" She asks after a while.

"No and yes." Yeri was one of the things that got you overthinking anyways. "I… I really need to know. Again, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. But… why did you guys break up?"

Yeri turns her head slowly to look at you. There's something very serious and hardened on her eyes.

"He never told you." It wasn't a question. You shake your head. "Well, I figured he wouldn't." She looks back to the cup between her hands; you can see she's thinking hard. "Y/N, I always admired your friendship with him. What you have is something truly special. Maybe you won't want to know why. Maybe I don't want to tell you because I don't want to destroy your friendship."

"My relationship with Jungkook won't ever go back to what it used to be anyways. I don't care."

Yeri looks surprised. She still hesitates for some moments - what makes your blood boil in expectation - but finally sighs and nods.

"Alright, then." She crosses her arms. "I broke up with him because of you."

You stare at her, jaw dropped.

"What? What did I do?" You ask, genuinely confused.

"You did nothing." She chuckles drily. "That's why I couldn't hate you, you know. And I tried to hate you really hard."

You don't know what to say. Some girls Jungkook had some sort of relationship with were very jealous of you, you knew, but Yeri was different. "Were you… were you jealous of me and him? But Yeri- you know we weren't like that."

This is not a lie. You weren't like that while they still dated. You were too stupidly in love with Mike to notice the person that was standing right by your side all along.

"I know." She nods. "I know you didn't. But Jungkook did."

You freeze.

"What?"

Yeri finally looks at you again - clear sadness on her eyes.

"Jungkook loves you. Not in a way a friend does."

You’re absolutely speechless.

Your heart is beating so fast that you think you’re about to faint. Your brain malfunctions and it seems that you lost the ability to speak for a few moments. This shouldn’t shock you - Jungkook confessed his feelings himself not long ago, and Jimin also said how he knew about Jungkook’s feelings - goddamn, even Seulgi noticed it a little bit. But back then? When he was still dating Yeri?

“B-But Yeri-” you hate the way you’re stuttering and you hate how Yeri is telling you something she obviously doesn’t like, but you still feel so fucking happy and fuzzy inside. “Jungkook was in love with you. I’m sure.”

“I thought so, too. And he thought he was in love with me.” Yeri stares ahead again, and in this moment you realize that yes, it still hurts her. “You know… Jungkook was too much like a dream.” She chuckles to herself, as if she can’t believe in what she’s saying. “He was perfect in every sense. His good looks, the way he was always so sweet… God, even the way he’s in bed.” Yes, he’s unbeatable in bed, you want to agree. “Too perfect to be true.”

Yeri goes quiet again for a while. She stares at the cup as if it’s showing her something important she can’t look away from.

“I started to realize why it was so perfect.” Her voice sounds painfully fragile. “He was trying too hard. Always trying his best. At first I thought that it was a good thing… We all want someone that’s always trying their best for you, right? But then… then, I started to watch how he acted when he was around you. Y-You know what’s worst in all this? It’s not like you two gave me actual reason to be jealous. You were never touchy around each other. You were even dating back then, and you two avoided going out together because Mike and Jungkook never got along well. I know it.” She sounds like she wants to cry. It makes you feel really, really bad.

“But… fuck, it was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. With you, he wasn’t trying anything. He didn’t need to try. I saw how he was so comfortable around you and… well, I didn’t need to be a genius to understand that he was so stupidly in love with you that it got him blind.” Yeri inhales and exhales deeply. “Jungkook was too much like a dream. But everyone has to wake up sometime, and I didn’t want to be there when he woke up from his. So I left him before I could get any more hurt.”

You can just stare at her, jaw dropped, adrenaline making your breathing shaky.

“Yeri, I never… I didn’t…” you stupidly stutter.

“I know you didn’t.” She nods. “I even pitied Jungkook, you know. Because he didn’t want to see what he really felt, and because you obviously didn’t feel the same.” Yeri chuckles. “That’s why I can’t hate you. That’s also what gave me some sense of revenge. At least he’s suffering a little bit.”

You’re both very, very quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. She doesn’t know you’re apologizing for putting her under the torture of telling those memories that are still painful for her. You weren’t expecting that Yeri still felt so affected by her past relationship even after so long.

“You don’t need to apologize.” She shakes her head slowly. “It wasn’t meant to be. That’s all. We would both keep suffering like that.” Yeri exhales again and looks at you. “Well… I guess I’m going now. I really hope I didn’t completely kill your relationship with him.”

She didn’t.

She quite helped to save it, actually.

Yeri takes some money from her purse and puts it over the counter, paying for her drinks. As she gets up from the stool, you say:

“Thank you for telling me, Yeri. I really wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

The blonde girl opens a small smile. You see why Jungkook fell - well, at least thought he fell - for her. Maybe Yeri doesn’t know it, but she also looks like a dream. You just hope she’ll find someone that will wake her up to see the most beautiful, warm and lovely reality.

“Thanks. See you around.”

She leaves.

You just sit there, all alone, staring at the counter.

Well- not exactly alone.

The bartender is furiously side-eyeing you.

“What?” You ask drily.

He presses his lips together. “I don’t think I should say anything…”

You tilt your head. “Go ahead. You heard everything anyway.”

The bartender stops in front of you. There’s something wise about him. That’s probably the result of hearing hundreds and hundreds of love stories every night - day, in your case.

“That dude you guys were talking about,” he says. “Your friend. You like him, right?”

You stare at him seriously. “Why would you think that?”

“Because your eyes lit up so much as she talked that I thought you were going to explode.”

Fuck. You can’t even pretend anymore. You avoid his gaze, embarrassed, and nod. “I do.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Then, and excuse my intrusive ass, what the fuck are you waiting for?” He almost looks annoyed, as if he’s having to explain something painfully obvious. “Go after him, woman!”

You stare at him.

He’s right.

What the fuck are you waiting for?

Oh, right. You’re waiting until he comes back, because he’s fucking overseas.

It makes you so, so angry. After everything you just heard, after everything you’re feeling right now, you wanted nothing more but to run to him and make him listen to you. You want to see him, to hug him, to make him understand that he’s your most important person in the world, that you can’t see yourself in a world where he isn’t around.

But guess what - you’ll have to wait three days to meet him.

You look so grumpy on your way back home that people deliberately avoid looking at you. Seulgi and Irene are there when you arrive; Seulgi looks worried, Irene looks confused, you just decide to say you’re alright and lock yourself inside your bedroom because you can’t physically look at a happy couple right now.

You throw yourself on the bed and scream against a pillow.

If someone told you you’d be feeling so many things when all of this started, you wouldn’t have believed. You were always someone to continuously keep the fuck it button pressed - or at least, you pretended you did. Like that, you could trick your heart into believing you weren’t hurt by some jerk who cheated on you, that you didn’t feel like a piece of shit for drowning your problems in alcohol, that you didn’t care that most of your “friends” just cared about you when it came to parties and having fun, that there was never really anyone that truly took you seriously in a relationship.

It’s really easy to pretend those things aren’t real. But it’s just like Yeri said - one moment, everyone has to wake up. To you, waking up means facing the consequences of your actions, to face your feelings.

And it really hurts right now.

It also reminds you that the person you’d usually let your guard down for was Jungkook. You were never embarrassed to be weak in front of him - and it was the other way round. You were always in tune. Always in synergy.

This makes you remember the little black pen drive laying on the nightstand.

You sit in a jump, taking your laptop and the pen drive. Just feeling the device between your fingers makes you feel nervous… that’s why you still didn’t check what’s inside of it yet. Jimin said it was something personal. You’ve been hesitating to see whatever it is.

It can’t be bad, can it?

You plug the pen drive in your laptop.

The files tab pops up. There’s actually only one file inside the pen drive - a video. It’s called euphoria final test i swear to god.

You chuckle. This is so Jungkook.

Your finger still hovers over the touchpad hesitantly. It looks like one of Jungkook’s test videos - you’ve seen plenty of those. Nothing new. Nothing to be scared of. You double click.

The video opens up and fills up the screen.

It’s a vertical video recorded on selfie mode. Jungkook is walking down the university hall; he has a playful smile on his lips. The video shows you walking by his side, a grumpy expression on your face.

You remember this. He actually posted this on his Instagram stories around one year ago. His hair was way shorter back then. Why does he still have something so silly?

“Y/N’s team lost the championship.” Jungkook says. Of course he looks happy. He roots for the rival team. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Fuck you.” Is all you say.

Jungkook laughs loudly.

Another video.

A song kicks in.

It starts with the sweet melody of a piano. You frown, not recognizing this song at all.

Then the voice of the singer kicks in, and you feel your whole body freezing.

It’s Jungkook’s voice.

He sounds soft and angelic as you’ve always known - only this time, through professional mics and mixing. This itself is already shocking. You always felt blessed for being one of the few people to know of Jungkook’s singing ability, but this is different. He sounds like a professional singer, someone that makes a living out of it.

You remember Namjoon’s voice.

Hah, Jungkook didn’t tell you yet? He has been working with us! We’re doing a good job. He lent his voice to record some demos.

You then remember what Jungkook told you.

I… I kind of helped them write a song. I felt kind of inspired. It was just for fun, though.

Maybe I’ll let you listen to it any other day.

Is… is this the song he was talking about?

Jungkook’s sweet voice sings:

You are the sunlight that rose again in my life

A reincarnation of my childhood dreams

I don’t know what these emotions are

Am I still dreaming?

Your breathing is irregular. Your fingers are shaking slightly.

Because as if his voice wasn’t enough to singlehandedly make you feel completely lost, the video is still passing on.

Videos of you.

You sitting on the university’s library, reading a book. You crying that time you ate tacos that were way too spicy, Jungkook’s laughter from behind his phone ringing softly over the song. You playing Just Dance with Seulgi, ridiculously trying to follow the doll’s moves on the TV. You running after Jungkook down the hall as he laughs because he stole your last cookie. You dancing around your kitchen as you prepare breakfast. You and him singing to Staying Alive that night at Burger King, both of you visibly drunk. Your shocked reaction as you watched a plot twist unfold on the TV - an anime he insisted so much for you to watch that you ended up watching.

I hear the ocean from far away

Across the dream, past the woods

I'm following this clarity

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

You remember some of those videos. He posted some of them on his Instagram or Snapchat. Some of them you sent him yourself. Some of them, though, you had no idea that existed. Videos of you doing… nothing. Scrolling down your phone. Reading a book. Watching TV. Some of them look more professional - those are from the times you accepted to be his “model” so he could test his techniques, yet he never let you see any of those videos.

Just you.

You, you, you and you.

Were you wandering around

Looking for an erased dream too?

It’s different from what destiny suggests

We share the same painful views

Won't you please stay in my dreams

Yes, both of you had erased dreams. Your erased dream was Mike. His erased dream was Yeri.

Jungkook thought that you would never be more than friends. What he felt, though, was different from what he thought destiny suggested.

The way you drifted apart from each other. The pain you went through, watching your friendship slowly die. You shared the same painful views.

You don’t know at what moment you start to cry, but now, tears are freely dripping down your cheeks.

Even if the earth crumbles

No matter who shakes this world

Don't let go of my hand

Please don’t wake me up from this dream

You remember that time you were looking at the pictures Jungkook took at a wedding, and you noticed how the groom looked at his future wife with overflowing love. You wondered to yourself if someone has ever looked - or ever would - look at you the same way.

Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.

It was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around.

You’re not seeing him in this video.

Yet, it shows how Jungkook sees you. And you can’t help but think… in his eyes, you look beautiful.

He sings beautifully. Passionately.

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

Euphoria

Close the door now

When I’m with you I’m in utopia

As the song slowly ends, the screen shows a last shot from a very old video you didn’t even remember. It’s from your graduation day from high school… actually, a video your mother recorded. The difference is clear from how shaky the camera is. You can’t help but think you look too goofy in your old school uniform.

“Y/N, it’s your graduation day! Next year you’ll live by yourself in a big city!”

“Thanks God. Less bills to pay for,” you hear your father jokingly say somewhere out of sight. You roll your eyes, but still laugh.

“Thank you so much, Dad. I see how much you love me.”

“But I love you, sweetie!”

“Shut up, darling. I’m trying to do an interview.” Your mother shushes him. “So, how do you feel, Y/N?”

You look thoughtful for a moment. That stupid teenager on the screen looks so full of hopes and courage. So young, so naive. “I’m a little bit scared, but I’m excited.” You say.

Then you smile, as if remembering something very important.

“Besides, Jungkook will live next to me, so I’ll be alright.”

The video ends.

You just sit there, sobbing uncontrollably for the next few minutes.

When you clicked that file, you never expected this.

You never expected to feel so loved with just a video.

At the same time, it makes an urge - the strongest urge you’ve ever felt in your life - flow through you. You need to tell Jungkook how wrong those lyrics are.

He doesn’t have to keep dreaming anymore. You’ve woken up from your own dream - and you’re ready to show him the real world in which you love him back, unconditionally.

Irene and Seulgi look worried as they see you marching out of your bedroom, sniffling, tears streaming down your cheeks. Before Irene can say anything, you put both hands on her shoulders and look at her seriously.

“Remember when you said you owed me one? That you’d help me with whatever I needed?”

Irene starts to look scared. “Yes.”

“Were you serious?”

“Of course!”

“Good. Then I need you to buy a flight ticket for me. Today.”

“Are you sure that’s the right hotel, Jimin?” you ask out of breath, your phone almost falling as you balance it between your ear and your shoulder, your hands busy holding your passport and flight ticket. You, Irene and Seulgi run inside the airport, looking like three crazy women in a dangerous mission - which isn’t too far from reality.

“I’m sure, Y/N!” Jimin says through the phone, starting to sound a little bit annoyed. “God, you asked me this a hundred times!”

“But I need to be sure! Can’t you ask him once again?”

“He will start to get suspicious. I already had to make up one hell of an excuse to make him tell me which room he’s in without sounding creepy.”

“Room 23, right?”

“Room 32!”

“So, is he sure that’s the right hotel?” Irene asks.

“Yes.”

She clicks something on her phone. “Good. It’s not too far from the airport. You’re lucky there was a room available!”

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Seulgi asks, looking borderline panicked. “You’re not going to die if you wait a few days until he comes back.”

“Yes, I am going to die if I wait any longer.”

“So dramatic.” Jimin says over the phone. You can even see him rolling his eyes.

“Shut up!”

“Why are you telling me to shut up?!” Seulgi asks, offended.

“No! I was talking to Jimin!” You finally hold the phone with your hand. “Okay, Jimin. I’m hanging up. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Don’t fucking die out there.” Jimin says, but you can hear the smile on his voice. “Good luck!”

You shove the phone inside your back pocket and turn around to look at them.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you alone in a foreign country.” Seulgi says. She does look panicked.

“I don’t trust myself either, but it’s alright.” You reassure her - but she only looks more nervous. You didn’t even bring a suitcase, choosing to just take a backpack with a few clothes and extremely necessary items.

Irene takes something from her wallet and hands it to you. “Here’s my credit card. I will text you the password later.”

You widen your eyes. “Irene, that’s not necessary…”

She shrugs in a dismissing demeanour. “Of course it is. How will you survive out there without money?” This kinda reminds you that this is only one of her credit cards and that whatever money you spend won’t really mean much to her. Still, you take the card hesitantly, making a mental promise to not spend more than the utmost necessary. “Your room is booked. You can ask a taxi to take you directly to the hotel. There’s no way to get lost.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” Seulgi says under her breath.

“Seulgi, I will fucking beat you up.”

“Sorry! I’m nervous!” She admits.

Your gaze softens. “I promise I won’t die, okay?”

She steps closer and hugs you tightly. “Be safe. Huh, you’re so stupid, but this is so romantic! It feels like I’m watching a Netflix romcom movie in real life!”

“Why do you always have to bring Netflix up?” Irene wonders under her breath. Seulgi sends her a menacing glare as she steps back again. “Anyways, if you need anything, please call us. Call us as soon as you get out of the plane. Keep us informed.”

“Okay.” You jump over to hug Irene; she gets visibly surprised, not really the type of person to appreciate a lot of physical contact. “Thank you so much, Irene! You’re saving my life!”

“The same way you saved mine.” She giggles. “Now go, unless you want to lose your flight!”

You wave them goodbye one last time before walking to the check-in area.

Yeah. You know that this is very, very stupid to do. You could wait three days. But when your impulsive, chaotic side takes control, you can’t really hold it back. That’s why you get inside the plane even though you’re really fucking scared of flights, going to a country you know absolutely nothing about.

But it’s alright. You’ll be with Jungkook, so it’s alright. Even if he rejects you - it’s alright.

Your chaotic side says that you’ll annoy him until he at least listens to you - and this time, you don’t think your chaotic side is all that wrong.

You get lost.

Which is dumb, because there were lots of information boards around the airport. Maybe that’s why you got lost - too much information, your peanut-sized brain couldn’t process all of that. After walking around the gigantic place for a good thirty minutes, only stopping to buy something very important on a vending machine, you find the exit and the taxi area. The taxi driver sees how desperate you are and it looks like he pities you.

Irene was right; the hotel is only twenty minutes away from the airport. It’s not a super hotel, but it looks like it’s much more expensive than you’d be able to pay (you couldn’t even pay for the flight tickets anyway).

You get more and more and more and more nervous at each passing minute. You feel like you’re about to fucking explode as the receptionist types something you can’t see. When he gives you the key card for your room, you feel goosebumps run down your spine.

It’s now.

Getting inside the elevator, you press the button to Jungkook’s floor. You don’t even want to drop your things in your own room before meeting him. You’re so nervous that, if you wait a little bit more, you’re sure that you’ll pass out.

Every step of yours on the corridor’s carpeted floor echoes in your ears. Your heart beats furiously. Your hands are trembling slightly and you feel cold in your stomach.

Room 23.

You stand in front of it, frozen.

Oh my God.

As expected, you don’t know what you’ll say when you see him. You tried to plan a speech the entire flight as a way to forget you were thousands of feet away from the ground and how fucking scared it made you, but you couldn’t think of anything.

You inhale and exhale deeply. It’s alright. It’s Jungkook who you’re talking about. You’ve always known how to act around him. Right now it’s no different.

Finally, you knock on the door.

“J-Jungkook?” You call, your voice failing slightly.

No response.

Weird. Jimin made sure that Jungkook wouldn’t be working anymore at this hour.

“Jungkook, it’s me. Can we… can we talk, please?” You say a little bit louder, knocking on the door once more. You can't hear any noise coming from inside the room. Come on, Jungkook. You have to open the door before any security guard can drag me away from here.

Your breathing is difficult. Your hands are trembling slightly. It feels that the floor is opening holes under your feet.

"Jungkook, I know you're mad at me. But please… please, let me at least explain myself." It's stupid how you already feel your eyes welling up with tears. Since when you became such a cry baby? Your chest tightens, hurts. "Y-You can't just leave me outside your room like this. Stop being a jerk. I need to tell you… I-I need to tell you that I lo-"

"Y/N?"

You freeze.

You turn around, looking at the exact opposite room in the hallway.

It's him.

Jungkook still holds the doorknob, indicating that he just opened it. He's barefoot, wears shorts and a long sleeved shirt, all black. His damp hair falling slightly over his eyes indicates that he probably just took a shower.

His eyes are so widened that it looks like they're about to pop out of his face.

He sincerely looks at you like you're the weirdest thing he has ever seen in his life.

"W-What-" he stutters, looking like he can't form a coherent sentence. "What the fuck?!"

You're still frozen in place.

You turn around again, looking at the door you were knocking on.

Room 23.

You look back at Jungkook again - the sign on his door.

Room 32.

"Oh." Is all you can say.

Shame suddenly makes your shoulders weight. You really, really hope there's no one inside Room 23.

You both stand there, staring at each other with widened eyes like two scared chipmunks. Your neck and face feels very, very hot.

Jungkook looks like he's recovering from the shock. He didn't hear anything you said, apparently.

"W-What exactly are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side. He frowns, looking at you like you're an exotic species.

"Oh." You repeat. Your brain is malfunctioning. You step closer, simply showing him the plastic bag you're holding. "I-I brought you this."

His eyes go from you to the plastic bag and to you again.

"It's banana milk." You explain hurriedly. He widens his eyes slightly. "I mean- it's this country's equivalent of banana milk, I guess. It's the closest thing I could buy in the vending machine."

Jungkook raises his hand slowly and takes it. He's moving carefully, as if this exotic species can jump on him and bite him at any moment.

"Did you take a 5 hour flight just to buy me banana milk?"

"Yes." You agree mindlessly. You feel your entire body burning now. "A-And I also came here to talk, because your dramatic ass didn't let me speak the other day."

Jungkook quirks one eyebrow and crosses his arms slowly. "Alright. I'm listening to you now."

He stares at you very seriously.

His gaze is overwhelming. It almost feels that you're getting small under his eyes. Gosh - you've been wanting to see him for days, but right now, when he's right in front of you, you can't say a damn thing, your brain completely overheating, your braincells melting. You thought you'd know how to act when you met him - but ha, guess what? You don't.

And that motherfucker is just standing there, waiting for you to speak. Just staring at you.

You hold the doorknob in a swift moment and close the door on his face, just letting enough of it open so he can still hear you.

"What-?" He gasps from inside the room.

"Shut up, okay?! I just can't speak looking at you right now." You hold the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles get white. You hate the way your voice is trembling and you hate the way your sight can't really focus on anything around you - that's just how nervous you are.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. You feel him leaning on the other side of the door, waiting patiently.

You inhale and exhale heavily.

"You got so fucking angry at me when I said you were my best friend that night.” You start, not really knowing where you’re going with this. You don’t even know if it’s possible to convey everything you feel through words only. “But you know, it’s- it’s true. You are my best friend. But what you didn’t let me explain is that you’re not just my best friend.”

Your heartbeat thunders on your ears at each word. You can’t see Jungkook’s expression, and at the same time it helps you keep talking, it also makes you more anxious.

“Y-You’ve been with me through everything. You were there with me when I broke my arm when we were kids, and you were there to help me when I thought I wouldn’t get into college, and you were there with me to celebrate when I got into college. It’s even embarrassing that you’ve seen all of my lowest moments.” You rest your head on the door, staring at the carpet under your feet. The first tears roll down your cheeks. “You know everything about me and sometimes I hate it. You’re like… fuck, I hate how cheesy this sounds, but you’re like a part of me. A-And you’re the best part, because- I don’t know how to explain, but you’re always the one making my average self want to be more.”

Normal you would never say something like this. You’re far from being an emotional person and you’re shit with words. But right now you’re crying and sniffling and trembling and you can’t shut your mouth anymore.

“Please, you have to believe me. I would never purposefully hurt you. Whenever I see you sad I die a little bit inside, and to know that I was the cause of your sadness is fucking killing me. It’s killing me.” You sob. “I don’t want to be the cause of your sadness ever again. I-I want to return all the good things you’ve done to me. So, please… I know I’m a pain in the ass to deal with, b-but if you’d let me be by your side… if you’d just bear me a little bit longer until I become someone that you’d want to be with-”

Jungkook opens the door.

You hear him whispering under his breath wait, wait, wait, interrupting you. Gently, he puts his hands on your arms and pulls you inside the room, closing the door right after, so now your back is against the door - right in front of him.

He stares at you, lips parted, eyebrows slightly knitted together. He looks stunned. Very, very confused. And very hopeful.

His starry eyes are welling up with tears.

“What… what do you mean with all this?” Jungkook asks softly. He almost sounds scared. “What do you really mean?”

You stare at him in silence. His beautiful face. His beautiful self.

You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.

“I love you.” you confess, your voice cracking slightly. “I-I fucking love you. I’m sorry that I took so long to realize.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

The next thing you know is that his lips are against yours.

He drops the plastic bag full of banana milk on the floor, holding the back of your neck with one hand and pressing your body against his with the other. He tastes like toothpaste and tears; you can barely breathe, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream, your fingers grabbing the strands of his damp hair.

When he finally lets go of your lips, you’re both out of breath and trembling.

Then, he smiles - and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks as his own cheeks are wet with tears. His eyes are smiling too, and you think that you want to keep that smile forever.

“Y-You have… you have no idea of how long- how long I dreamed of hearing this,” Jungkook says quietly, his voice cracking a little bit. He giggles, frowning his eyebrows slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing right in front of him. “I can’t believe you took a fucking plane to bring me banana milk! How can I stay mad at you when you do this type of thing?!”

You start giggling too. His warmth, his scent of baby powder, the way his eyes are shining as much as diamonds - this is something you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t know you’d ever have.

“God- I fucking love you, too.”

Your heart feels filled.

You smash your lips on his again.

It’s desperate and intense and makes your senses completely dizzy.

You feel the backpack dropping from your shoulders right before Jungkook lifts you up as if you weigh nothing and you circle your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss, he carries you to where the bed is, sitting down with you on his lap.

Adrenaline and excitement washes over your body in anticipation. It’s even familiar at this point - his gaze clouded with want, your heavy breathings, hands grabbing and caressing everywhere they can find. Jungkook moans quietly against your lips as you grip his hair tightly, humping your clothed core very slowly against his growing erection.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers in that deep voice that makes goosebumps run down your skin, his lips against your neck as he kisses and sucks it. You giggle.

“We fucked just a few days ago,” you point out.

“I miss this everyday. All the time.”

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you.

You might be shit at words, you might not know how to express yourself that well. But one thing you know better than anyone else is how to make him feel good.

So, softly, you push him back until you’re hovering above him and he’s propped up by his elbows.

You don’t say anything. You just smile and start to take his shirt off.

He doesn’t complain.

Your hands roam his exposed skin as you kiss and suck his neck gently. While your lips are still glued on his neck, one of your hands travels to caress his clothed member. Quiet moans come from the back of his throat. Slowly, you kiss your way down his chest and stomach - until you’re kneeled in front of his opened legs.

Jungkook is breathing heavily in anticipation. Maybe it’s the sole sight of you biting your bottom lip as you manage to get his member free from his boxers and shorts that makes it throb. He has to gulp when he sees you spitting on his dick, the feeling of your spit trickling down his member making goosebumps roam his skin.

You hold his member and start to bump it slowly at first - which makes waves of pure pleasure wash over Jungkook, stunning his senses. He hisses when your lips envelop the head of his cock, sucking it. His eyes are half lidded, lips slightly parted, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. He looks so beautiful as he’s being pleasured.

You start taking more of him inside your mouth until you feel him on your throat; Jungkook moans louder. You bob your head up and down his length, taking turns between sucking and bumping his member with your hand, your spit making it easier and producing obscene sounds. Jungkook hisses and groans and moans and then he’s grabbing your hair, making you take more of him inside your mouth. You don’t complain. You just want to make him feel the best he has ever felt.

This time, though, it’s being much quieter than what it usually is. Jungkook just swears a little under his breath. No dirty talking.

His face and neck are covered with blush, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, his face distorted with pure pleasure. His moans are getting more constant and louder. You wouldn’t mind if he cummed in your mouth right now, but Jungkook hisses and takes his hand off your hair.

“Oh my God- stop. Stop. Come here, babe.”

You decide to just do as he said. As soon as you prop your knees on each side of him, Jungkook sits up again and starts to get rid of your clothing hurriedly - first your pants, then your coat and shirt. When he unclasps your bra, he immediately takes one of your breasts on his mouth, making you moan quietly. His hand pushes your panties to the side to meet your already wet core; you moan louder as he gently caresses it. You unconsciously start moving your hips against his hand, his movements adding more pressure over your clit, his lips still licking and sucking your breasts.

Jungkook decides this was enough to get you wetter. He pushes your panties to the side, holds both sides of your hips as you guide his member to your entrance.

Both of you moan as he enters.

You close your eyes tightly, the feeling of being stretched by him so familiar and so delicious. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you start to guide yourself up and down on him, never breaking eye contact, watching him carefully. Every deep moan coming from him makes you shiver. The pleasure, the sound of skin hitting skin - how many times have you done it before? You don’t even remember. Yet, right now, it somehow feels fresh and new.

Maybe it’s because there’s more in Jungkook’s eyes than just lust. Maybe it’s because you notice how he watches you with adoration. And maybe it’s because you watch him with the same intensity, the same feeling.

Jungkook grabs the skin of your hips tightly as you increase your pace. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, he loves the sight of your boobs jumping at each move, he loves to feel the soft skin of your ass on his hand. He loves it. Both of you are really sweating now. You kiss him deeply, never decreasing your pace, your tongues entangling around each other, grabbing the strands of his hair.

God, how much he loves it.

He loves it much more now, because he sees how this time, he’s not the only one feeling something beyond physical pleasure. He knows you too damn well. It’s just like that morning at your house. You’re feeling it, too.

You love him, too.

Thinking about it makes him smile. You think it’s simultaneously the hottest and the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook simply circles his arms around your waist and completely switches positions, throwing you on your back on the bed, which makes you giggle. He finally gets rid of your panties and hovers over you, thrusting inside of you once again.

His pace is fast and steady from the beginning. Your moans get higher and higher, louder and louder. You love how his face is so close to yours, how strongly he’s hitting you, how he tightly intertwines his fingers with yours (Jungkook really is the type to intertwine his hands when having sex!)

It’s ridiculous how you feel your eyes welling up with tears in a moment like this.

This moment… It’s not just bodies connecting - it’s souls.

You used to think you and Jungkook didn’t match; you were opposites in many ways. Jungkook is an introvert, you are an extrovert. Jungkook prefers quiet places, you prefer parties. Jungkook works out, you’re too lazy to do so. Jungkook hates coffee. You can’t live without it.

But, it’s in this moment - when he’s inside of you, when all of your senses are stunned by pure pleasure, when everything you can smell is him and everything you can hear is the sounds of bodies against bodies and when everything you can see is his beautiful starry eyes looking right back at you - is when you realize how wrong you were all along.

You’re like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. They need to be different to match. They are different, but when you put them two together, they complete each other.

You’ve always matched.

Seulgi didn't expect to find Jungkook standing in the kitchen when she came home.

Of course - you told her that the flight back home was scheduled at night and you'd probably arrive in the morning. This shouldn't be surprising. Yet, Seulgi still widens her eyes when she sees Jeon Jungkook cooking breakfast, his hair a mess, his face slightly swollen - an indication that he just woke up - wearing shorts and a white t-shirt.

He turns around and smiles. "Oh! Y/N didn't tell me you were coming back so early." He sounds a little bit surprised.

Seulgi notices it immediately.

That smile on his face and those gleamy eyes are just shown by someone that had a long, steamy and tiring night of sex.

Sure, Seulgi knows that you and Jungkook made up - and that you've been fucking for months now - but damn, it's still shocking to see it with her own eyes, considering that you only looked like good friends.

"I didn't know I'd come back early, too." Seulgi says, sitting by the tiny kitchen counter. She was expecting to spend the weekend at Irene’s penthouse, but she had to work. This is one of the reasons why Seulgi loves Irene; Irene could just enjoy her fortune and do nothing, yet, she decides to actively work for the company. She’s admirable.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Well… I already had breakfast, but this is smelling really good." She admits. Jungkook nods and proceeds to prepare one more portion. She just watches in silence as he works around the kitchen (and she's also surprised that he knows where everything is, every pot, every spoon, literally everything). He hums quietly, that tiny satisfied smile never leaving his lips.

Seulgi thinks she has never seen him so happy.

It's kind of adorable.

"So, how was your job?" She asks.

"It was great!" Jungkook says excitedly. He chuckles. "I thought I was going to be the assistant of the assistant, but actually I was everyone's assistant. I didn't really do much, but it was great anyways. It's totally different to study about it and see how things work in real life."

Before Seulgi says anything, she sees you coming from your bedroom.

Your face is swollen and your eyes are barely opened; it seems you're not even seeing where you're going. Your hair is a complete mess. You wear one of Jungkook's shirts and Seulgi suspects you're not wearing anything under it.

She watches as you walk on a beeline straight to Jungkook and hug him from behind, burying your face on his back.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" At least that's what she thinks you said, because your voice sounds muffled.

"Because you looked so funny that I didn't want to wake you up." He says softly. Seulgi can hear his smile. "You were drooling and all. I even took some pictures."

"You didn't."

"I did." Jungkook giggles when you punch his back, but still keep your body glued on him.

"Fuck you. What are you cooking anyways? It smells too fucking good." You mumble.

"It's my special recipe." Jungkook moves to take something on the cabinet. You go along. "I can't cook if you keep smashing me like this."

"I don't caaare."

"Since when do you like hugging so much?"

"You didn't know girlfriend Y/N. Girlfriend Y/N likes long hugs."

Jungkook chuckles again. "Nice to meet you, Girlfriend Y/N."

Seulgi just stares, jaw dropped. From all the things she thought she’d see in her life, this is the most unexpected.

This is so cheesy. So not you. Not even when you were dating Mike you were like this.

And Jesus- she has never seen you look happy like this.

You turn your head to look at Seulgi, and she watches awkwardly as you let go of Jungkook and proceed to walk in her direction. You kind of look like a really happy zombie.

“Oh, good morning, Seul. Don’t be jealous. I love you toooo.”

And you throw your arms around her shoulders, hugging her so tightly that she almost falls from the stool.

The only person that doesn’t get shocked at your relationship is your mother.

You casually called her just to talk and gave the news. What she said?

“Well, finally.”

Everyone else is utterly shocked.

When Hoseok saw you kissing each other goodbye the other day - it was just a peck - his eyes got so wide that it seemed they were about to pop out of his face. He stared at you and him, completely shocked, as Jimin just laughed. That was pretty much everyone’s reaction.

You and Jungkook were never the type to be too touchy. It’s still kind of awkward to hand hold in public or call each other things like babe or love. You physically cringe just thinking of calling him “babe”, honestly.

It’s weird, because you’re “officially” dating now, but your relationship isn’t all that different. All the overwhelming awkwardness between you is gone (thankfully), so now you do what you always did; you swear at each other, you have your violent ways of showing affection, he still ghosts you because he’s too busy playing whatever game. The only difference is that now you can fuck without feeling guilty (and oh boy, you’ve been fucking a lot these days) and there’s a lot of kissing. There wasn’t that much kissing back then.

You thought it was impossible, but sex is even better now. It’s more exciting and even funnier - especially because there’s no awkwardness weighting in the room after you both reach your climaxes. Instead, there’s giggles and hugs and soft kisses. You also sleep at each other’s places now, which is good.

To be honest, if you think really hard about it, you’ve been lowkey dating for years. It’s just that now, you fuck a lot.

When you tell him this, Jungkook just chuckles. You don’t think he’s really listening to what you’re saying, though - nor you’re thinking straight anymore. You went out with your friends at a karaoke and, as expected, ended up drinking way too much; you and Seulgi had a singing competition in which none of you won (Irene just sat there looking absolutely embarrassed), Jimin sang a little bit but disappeared at some point (Jungkook said he noticed some hot guy in the side room), Hoseok got so emotional singing Haru Haru by BigBang that he started crying as Seokjin laughed so hard he almost choked, and Jungkook didn’t sing at all (because everybody knew he’s actually good at it and he would humiliate everyone else), until Jungkook silently asked if you wanted to leave (and you did) and you two left before anyone could notice (they were too drunk to notice anyway).

Since he’s drinking, you took a bus. The wrong bus. You’re at the other side of the city now, sitting on the bench of a park, watching the sun rise. It sounds romantic, but really, everything you see is heavy traffic and the grey pollution line in the horizon, almost blocking the sun.

Not that you care.

“We did everything backwards.” Jungkook says, his voice low and a little bit husky. His eyes look heavy because of the alcohol. You love how his hair is tied in a tiny ponytail. “People usually are friends first, then go out on dates, then they fuck.”

“We jumped straight to the fun part!” You say as if it’s obvious. He giggles again.

Peaceful silence. Jungkook watches your intertwined hands sitting on his lap, a small smile on his face. You can see that, even though he’s right by your side, his mind must be far, far away. He’s clearly sleepy. It’s silly - you know this guy almost your entire life, you already have memorized each detail about him - but you can’t take your eyes off of him right now.

You inhale.

“You know.” You start absently. “I saw the video.”

Jungkook frowns and looks at you. “What video?”

You’re trying really hard to hold back a smile.

“I think it’s called euphoria final test I swear to God.”

His eyes widen.

“W-What? Who showed you?!” He groans. “Jimin. Oh my God- I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You start laughing as you see blush creeping on his cheeks and ears. He hides his face behind his hands and moans painfully.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” You ask, endeared, trying to get his hands off from his face, but he won’t let you.

“You weren’t supposed to watch that! It’s- it wasn’t- ugh!”

“But the song is beautiful, Kook!” You try, still laughing.

“Yeah, the song is alright, but the video?”

“What’s wrong with the video?”

He finally side eyes you for a few seconds. The blush on his cheeks gets redder. He hides his face again, groaning.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that. Shit, I can’t look at you anymore. I wanna fucking die.”

“Stop being so dramatic!” After a lot of effort, you finally manage to cup his face with your hands. Still, he avoids your gaze. “Hey, hey. Look at me!”

He does.

He looks sheepish and it’s adorable.

“I loved it. Every second of it. You’re so damn talented.”

“B-But I didn’t write the song alone… Namjoon takes most of the credits with the lyrics. I just helped a little bit. A-And you know, it was just for fun, it’s not an official demo or anything-”

He’s forced to shut up when you peck his lips.

“I love you.”

He knits his eyebrows a little bit.

“You like to say this a lot.” He notices quietly. “I didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“I’m not.” You agree. “But it’s because it’s you.”

You’ve been “officially” dating for, what, almost two weeks now? People usually don’t say “I love you” this early. But this isn’t the beginning for you two. It’s more like a progression. It feels natural, like it has always been with him.

It feels like home.

Jungkook avoids your gaze again. The blush hasn’t gone away. “I don’t know what to do when you say things like that- why are you crying?!”

It’s Jungkook’s time to laugh at you as you try to wipe the tears away. He pulls you to rest your head on his chest, hugging you tightly.

“I am supposed to be the emotional one here, not you.” He says, still laughing.

“Shut up. I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, sure.” His laughter slowly dies until it’s just a quiet giggle. You feel his scent, hear the beating of his heart. Jungkook kisses the top of your head gently, caressing your back. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed when I remember I said this tomorrow,” he says softly against your hair. “But I think I’ve loved you ever since that first day of school when we bumped into each other on our way.”

You bury your face on his chest even more.

Everything around you is blurred and distant. It seems that nothing really matters besides right here, right now - as if you’ve never realized what you’ve been waiting for your whole life. This moment.

Him.

The puzzle is finally complete.

#btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook

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imaslutforremusandsirius · 4 years ago

Note

hiii babyy! could you do a overstim smut with remus? and somehow add some mocking/degrading in there, ik your busy but when you have the time <3

Overstimulation

Hellu baby!! Yes yes I can, hope you enjoyy <3

Warning: 18+!

---

Remus is a sweetheart, but in the bedroom he is ruthless. Wether it‘s his wolf who can‘t get enough of you or him, he isn‘t satisfied with a few rounds of fucking. God the way he worships your body so diligently, makes you cum so many times and the way he kisses you has you melting. But his words? His words are absolute filth, degrading and mocking, cussing you out in such a gentle tone, you‘d think he was confessing his love. Remus can only be described as sin.

„Hey, Dorcas and I are having a girls night, we want you to come as well!“, Lily said as she looped her arm through yours on your way to the Gryffindor table. You sat down next to Remus, giving him a quick kiss and answered.

„I‘d love to-“, you were cut off by a hand squeezing your thigh and cleared your thoat,“ -but I can‘t, I‘ve already made plans..“

Lily pouted a little before she told you that she won‘t accept excuses next time. You put your head on Remus‘ shoulder, hissing, „What the hell was that?“

He just shrugged his shoulders, „Don‘t want you to go. I‘ve been a little restless, you know...“

Oh. OH.

You blushed a little, sitting upright and nodded. „‘Course love, whatever you need.“

He gave you an innocent smile, a mocking glint in his eyes and resumed to eat.

Oh Merlin, he‘s going to wreck you.

---

„Soo“, Sirius said smirking,“Moony says he needs the dorm tonight?“

You groaned and gave him a warning look. „One more word out of your posh mouth and I‘ll tell everyone about the socks!“

Sirius instantly soberd up, raising his hands in defeat. He has been stealing James‘ socks and left them all over the castle, like a treasure hunt. It was too funny to expose him, the expression on James‘ face when he found yet another one of his socks in a potions couldron was priceless.

„No need to take out the big guns babe“, Sirius huffed. „We want the nice Moony back anyway, he‘s been a prissy git lately.“

You laughed a little, as Sirius dramatically rolled his eyes.

„I‘ll try my best.“

„Just suck his d-“

„SIRIUS!“

---

„I want you to sit on the floor infront of the mirror and spread your legs.“

His tone was strict, accepting no back talk. You had to threat very carefully on nights like this, Remus was very merciless.

You nodded, getting up from his lap, but he tangled your hair in his hand and pulled you back down. You gasped when his cock pressed against your clit. He stared into your eyes, the complete domination making you weak.

„When I ask you something, you respond with your words, baby.“

„Yes Remus, I‘m sorry.“ You were breathless already, the way he was pressing against your clit made you want to grind down. Of course you didn‘t, that would mean punishment.

He gave you a curt nod and gestured on the floor between his legs. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and you sat down on the floor, your head resting back against his abdomen. Spreading your legs you waited for further instructions.

Remus let his hands wander towards your breasts, fingers ghosting over your nipples and pinched them gently. You gasped, chest arching towards his hands and he smiled, pulling them harder. Whining you closed your legs to rub your thighs so you could feel some stimulation against your clit, but his hand came down hard on your breast, making you cry out.

„Now now pup, I never told you to close your legs. You want me to see your pretty pussy right?“

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs as wide as you could. He hummed in satisfaction.

„Look at you, already dripping all over the floor. Are you really that desperate to be fucked? Huh?“, he scoffed, pinching your nipples, before he leaned down to suck at them.

You moaned as his hands came down to rest on your pussy and felt you clench under his hands and mouth.

„You cunt‘s clenching already, feel that? You miss having my cock inside of your slutty cunt? Want me to play with your clitty? Hm?“

„Please Remus, need your touch.“

He leaned back again, looking at your begging face from above and gave you a mocking grin. „Oh baby, you can beg better than that!“

You whimpered, nuzzling your face against his crotch, blinking up at him innocently. He pulled his bottom lips between his sharp teeth, a needy glint in his eyes.

„Please Remmy“, you mewled, „please. I‘m begging you, need you so bad..“

He could‘t control himself anymore, kissing you hard, his hand squeezing your throat. He pulled back a little to mutter against you lips, „Get on the fucking bed.“

You hastily got up to lay down on the bed and he slipped between your open thighs. Nosing against your inner thigh he took a deep breath.

„Fuck, I can smell your neediness. Such a desperate slutty baby I have..“ He left hot open mouthed kissed along your legs, before he slowly trailed towards your pubic bone. He locked his eyes on yours and went down, softly kissing your cunt, tongue separating your pussy lips. Your toes curled in anticipation and he suddenly licked a broad strip from your hole up to your clit, immediately moaning at your taste.

Once he tasted you he was obsessed, consumed by you, his hands holding your hips still. Remus moved as close as possible, his tongue in your hole and his nose pressed against your clit, moving his head from side to side.

„God, I can‘t get enough of you“, he moaned as he lapped at your clit, two fingers pushing inside to curl around your sweet spot, „you‘re all that I think about and. I. hate. it.“ He thrusted in brutally with every word and you cried out, locking your legs behind his head. He groaned at that, encouraging you.

„Fuck, yes ride my fingers. C‘mon you stupid brat, fuck yourself!“

You rocked your hips, broken moans spilling past your lips, the tension in your pussy getting too much.

„Gonna cum gonna cum goona cum, please Remmy! Rem- ah“

He took your clit between his lips, locking his jaw and sucked hard, his fingers hitting the spongey spot inside of you with practiced accuracy.

„Cum then.“

You lost control, crying out teary eyed as you came on his face. He was growling, the vibrations prolonging your orgasm, making your hips stutter as you grinded your pussy against his lips. He kept lapping at your cunt, drinking everything you gave him like a starved man, moaning and groaning around you.

Remus pulled back, hands twisting your ankles to turn you in your belly. He pushed his fingers inside of your again, fast and mercilessly fucking you. You cried out, trying to get away but he held your hands tight against your back.

„You didn‘t think that I‘m done with you right?“, he hissed against your ear, biting at you cheek. „I‘m gonna make you cum until you have nothing to give. Until I can‘t taste you on my tongue.“

„Rem- too much ple-“

You choked on your words as his other hand came down on your ass in quick slaps, leaving raw handprints. You were crying now, pleading with him to let you go, but that only made him fuck your harder.

„You don‘t get to deny me what is mine!", he yelled, pulling you on your knees by your hair.

He took his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue.

„Remus!“

You came again, voice shrill with the force of your orgasm, squirting a little into his mouth. He moaned against your cunt, sucking your lips and hole to get all of it.

Letting go of your head you collapsed on the bed and he turned you on your back again, kissing you aggressively.

„Want a third one before I fuck you with my cock.“

„Remmy no, I can‘t it hurts!“, your voice came out weak, begging for his mercy.

He pulled you on his bare lap, hands grabbing your face, the sheer size nearly covering your entire head. He pushed his forehead against yours, eyes flashing with rage. Oh no, this wasn‘t just Remus talking now.

„If you tell me no ever again“, he bit out, voice unusually deep, „I will tie you up with my wand vibrating in your cunt all night. Understood?“

You swallowed thickly, believing every word. „Yes Remus, I understand.“

„Good“, he cooed, voice light again, „Rub your pussy against my thigh. There you go, good slut.“

You were breathing heavy, your clit rubbing against his thigh with every move of your hips. He leaned back on his palms, lip pulled between his teeth, observing you. The way he looked at you made you needy and you whined. Lord, his gaze was so desperate to fuck you already and he let out a condescending laugh when he felt you go faster.

„Ready to cum again? Fucking whore, look at how you‘ve soaked my leg, gotta make you clean it all up after.“

His filthy words made you go faster, clit catching delicious on his leg. Remus flexed his muscles and that was enough to push you over the edge. You fell against his chest, hips still moving against him and cried out when he spanked your sore cheeks, pulling them apart to expose your hole. He spit on his fingers and rubbed against your asshole, making you convulse on his lap as you came again.

„Filthy bitch, you came again?!“

You whimpered, nuzzling his neck. He cooed, pressing kisses against your flushed cheeks. „Tell me what you want baby.“

You blinked up at him, deep in subspace and pouted. „Want your cock Remmy. Please?“

He gave you a lopsides smile, voice mimicking yours. „Please?“

You mewled, getting on your knees to nuzzle against his cock, leaving kisses on the side. He bucked his hips, spreading his legs to give you space.

He moaned as he talked, head thrown back. „Get your Remmys cock wet and I‘ll fuck your slutty cunt.“

You perked up at that, drooling on the tip of his cock and took him in your mouth, suckling lightly. Remus stroked your hair, humming with delight when your tongue rubbed against the vein on the side.

„Remuuus“, you whined, „please fuck my pussy.“

He pulled your head back and you released him with a pop. He picked you up and put you on his desk, the head of his cock teasing your slit. You jumped, legs trembling when he rubbed against your oversensitive clit.

„Remus please! Plea-“

He pushed inside, fucking you in a punishing rhythm, his hands locked around your neck to keep you upright. He was staring into your dazed eyes, his own pupils dilated with lust.

„Ah-“, your voice came out broken as you sobbed when he hit your spot, „there yes please!“

„Fuck baby“, he growled, angling his hips to hit that spot with every thrust, „you gonna cum again? Huh?“

„Yesyesyes- ah fuck please!“ You were a mess, tears stresming down your face, because it hurt so good.

He threw your legs over the crook of his arm and lifted you into the air, his cock even deeper inside you and fucked you so full of his cock, you felt him in your tummy. Obscene sounds of his heavy balls slapping against your ass and your needy moans where filling the room.

„Feel me ah in your tummy, hm? M‘gonna give you all of my cum fuck you better keep it all in.“

You were a blabbering mess, hands tugging at his hair to kiss him, his name leaving your lips like prayer. Remus pushed you against the wall, one hand on your clit as his mouth sucked on your nipples. He pushed you over the edge when he slipped one finger into your asshole.

„Full so full Remmy, Rem-!“

You cried out, cumming from the feeling of having every hole filled, squeezing him so tight that he couldn‘t hold himself up anymore. He came inside of your pussy in hot spurts, the sensation of his cum making you come again. Falling on the bed with you in his arm, cock still burried inside of you, he panted hard.

Still inside of you he rolled around so youwere underneath him, kissing your tears away. You were deep in subspace, whimpering with every soft word he spoke.

He grinned at you, proud that he could reduce you to a blubbering mess. „My good girl“, he croons, „only one to make me feel so good.“

He kissed his way down your belly and you pushed at his head. „Hurts please hurts Remmy..“

„I know baby“, he murmured, „only one more for your Remmy. C‘mon don‘t make me punish you now.“ His voice was determined , not stopping until he got one more orgasm out of you.

„Remmy“, you cried, „please, s‘too much.“ You kicked your legs weakly, trembling hands pushing at his head.

„Shut up“, he growled, „I didn‘t ask for your input.“

With that he dove in again, mouth on your hole to suck out his cum, whining as he tasted you both on his tongue. Remus pushed your legs up to your chest, rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your clit.

„Remusremusrem-“

„Go on, fuck yourself. Fucking bitch, can‘t get enough.“

You came with a high pitched shout, vision flashing white as your entire body trembled. He held you still, licking you through your high until he pulled away, face glistening with your arousal.

„Clean it up, pup.“

You kissed his cheeks, licking up your cum with sluggish movements and he kissed you when you were done.

He pulled you to his chest, cuddling you close. „Rest, baby. You did good.“

With that you passed out.

#remus x you #remus smut #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #hp marauders #marauders smut

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

Text

Untouchable

Octoberfest day 31: cursed

“Fuck! Geralt! Help!”

Geralt rolls his eyes as Jaskier comes skidding to a halt in front of him. He dreads to imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into now.

“Something terrible has happened! I had an, umm, unfortunate encounter with a sorcerer.” He blushes, pink creeping over his cheeks. “And he put some horrible curse on me and portaled away, the bastard.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

“And now I can’t touch anyone. Look!” Jaskier holds out a hand to stop a passerby. He goes to shake the confused man’s hand, but the moment their skin makes contact Jaskier gives a yelp of pain and leaps back.

That reaction isn’t feigned, Geralt is sure, even as the man gives them both an odd look and leaves.

“When you touch someone, does it hurt badly?”

Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbles. “It really does.”

He sighs. A lack of touch might be a mere annoyance for him, but he knows it’s more than that for Jaskier. “I’ve heard of a mage who specialises in lifting curses. But he’s all the way in Kovir, and that’s no small journey.”

Jaskier turns big, pleading eyes on him. “Please, Geralt, I’ll do anything. You have to help me.”

As if he could ever refuse him anything. “Alright,” he grumbles. “We’ll head to Kovir.”

At first, Jaskier appears as bright as ever. Yet as the days pass, more and more often he chews his lip in a nervous habit, and he rubs his fingers together when people come too close. He smells of anxiety and restlessness.

Each evening, once the dinner has been eaten and the sun has set, they lay out their bedrolls by the embers of the fire. The scent of anxiety is replaced by one of loneliness and Jaskier will curl in on himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. It’s sad, how much lesser Jaskier seems to feel without touch.

Geralt is used to being shunned, to going months without a friendly clap on the shoulder or shake of the hand. But Jaskier isn’t, and the curse is taking a toll on him. Geralt wishes he could help, that he could provide some comfort, but he knows right now all he can cause Jaskier is pain.

They need coin for their journey, so Geralt takes jobs along the way. He’s on a contract to clear a nest of nekkers and he has, for some unknown reason, allowed Jaskier to accompany him. Jaskier had wheedled and pleaded and in the end Geralt had found himself unable to say no.

It should be fine. A nekker nest is an easy job, and as agile and springy as the creatures are, they’ve no stamina and they’re easy to kill.

That must be why he allows his concentration to slip when he’s approaching the nest, his eyes darting to the side to check Jaskier is safe behind a rock. The momentary slip lets one of the foul little things bounce up to him and sink its teeth into his gauntlet, more of an annoyance than a real threat. He shakes it off with one hand and uses the other to cut more of the creatures down with his silver blade. His gauntlet goes flying, but no matter, he can collect that later.

He rounds on the last few of the creatures who are nickering angrily. As he circles them he sees Jaskier peeking his head over the rock and then creeping closer, trying to get a better look.

Fuck. He kills two of the nekkers quickly, but the last three have picked up on Jaskier’s scent and are eyeing him with interest. Geralt sees two leaning back on their hind legs, preparing to leap at Jaskier and cut him to shreds with their sharp claws.

He has a split second to make a decision: Grab Jaskier and risk hurting him himself, or leave him where he is and watch the creatures go for his chest. It’s no choice at all really, so Geralt sends up a quiet word of apology and grabs Jaskier firmly around the neck with his ungloved hand and shoves him out of the way.

The last two creatures leap into the air, but with their target gone they’re easy prey. Geralt cuts them down with minimal effort and turns, expecting to see Jaskier writhing on the ground in pain.

He’s not though. He’s sat in the mud with a puzzled expression on his face.

“That didn’t hurt,” he says, seemingly mystified. “Well, being thrown to the ground was not the most delightful experience, but when you touched me - it didn’t hurt.”

That is strange. Geralt had been sure he’d triggered the curse.

Jaskier gets to his feet and regards Geralt quizzically. Very carefully, he reaches out and touches his fingertip to Geralt’s bare hand. He doesn’t flinch back or gasp in pain. Instead, he takes Geralt’s entire hand in his own, and a beautiful smile blooms over his face.

“I can touch you! But how?”

Geralt stares down at their joined hands, unsure why he feels unsteady. “Witchers are immune to magic?” he guesses. “I suppose that could be -”

He’s interrupted by Jaskier throwing his arms around him and hugging him close, happy little sounds of joy and relief spilling from him. “Oh, Geralt, thank the gods, I was losing my mind.” He snuggles deeper against Geralt, rubbing his face into his neck and hanging on tight.

“Oh. Well.” It seems the only thing for Geralt to do is to hug him back, so he puts his arms around his shoulders and draws him in.

Jaskier keeps touching him all the rest of the day. Whenever he bumps their shoulders or grabs Geralt’s hand, he breaks out into a wide, goofy smile, like it’s novel and fun every time.

Perhaps the curse has worn off? The next traveller who passes them by, Jaskier finds an excuse to stop him and shake his hand. But the moment their hands touch, Jaskier yelps in pain.

He’s still cursed then. But he can touch Geralt. Strange.

And Geralt can’t help but indulge him, even though he knows Jaskier is touching him because he’s the only option, not because he really wants to. He reminds himself that Jaskier would surely rather be off with some pretty lady, not grasping at a crotchety witcher for comfort.

But still, every time Jaskier brushes their hands together and smiles, he feels a little wobbly inside.

That night, he watches as once again Jaskier curls in on himself, small and sad by the fire. The further north they travel, the colder the weather grows, and the more distressed Jaskier becomes.

“Hey.” He keeps his voice soft, and Jaskier turns to look at him with big, wide eyes. “Join me?” He lifts a corner of his bedroll and waves him over; an offer, not a command.

Jaskier immediately scurries over and burrows into him, all hands and hot breath and happy murmurs. He settles into Geralt’s chest with a contented sigh, and Geralt wraps his arms carefully around him.

This, at least, he can do. Jaskier will find someone else to warm him soon enough, but for now, he has Geralt.

Geralt is on his way back from a job when the sound of raised voices makes him quicken his step. Outside the inn where he’d left Jaskier, he spots a distinctive bright blue doublet in the midst of a gang of angry-looking locals. They’re poking at him and taunting, and Jaskier is gasping in pain.

“Look at this precious little thing,” one of them sneers. “So delicate he can’t even bear to be touched by us lowly folks.”

The man reaches out and grasps Jaskier firmly around the wrist, and Jaskier screams, raw and excruciating. The sound reaches into Geralt’s chest and twists painfully, and he breaks into a sprint.

The next thing he knows, the man is on the ground before him, sobbing as Geralt twists his arm to the point of breaking. The others have fallen back, trying to hide behind each other, and Jaskier stands off to one side cradling his wrist.

“You don’t touch him,” Geralt growls, and the man before him pales even further. “Understood?”

The man nods frantically, babbling apologies, and as much as he’s tempted to break a few bones to drive home his point, he knows Jaskier wouldn’t want that. He drops the man’s arm and snarls, “Go.” He and his friends beat a hasty retreat, leaving the street empty but for him and Jaskier.

“Jask,” he says, and it breaks his heart to see Jaskier so pale, a tear running down his cheek. “Are you alright?” He’s wracked with guilt - he should have been here to protect him.

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I’m fine. My own fault, really.” He reaches out as if to touch Geralt’s hand before faltering, unsure.

He’s clearly in need of comfort, so Geralt pushes his own uncertainties aside and steps closer. He brings up one hand to wipe away the tears from Jaskier’s cheek, and cradles his face as gently as he can. “It’s okay,” he says in the tone he uses to reassure Roach when she’s frightened. “I’ve got you.”

Jaskier blinks up at him with watery eyes, but his smile is more genuine now. “Yeah,” he sighs softly. “Yeah, you do.”

Jaskier still insists on performing as they travel, and as much as the thought of him among all those grasping hands sets Geralt’s teeth on edge, he does understand. For all the times that he’s been injured and insisting on continuing to work, it would be hypocritical of him to deny that to Jaskier.

He sways carefully around the tavern as he plays, and to a stranger he’d seem relaxed and at ease but Geralt knows him well enough to see the anxiety in his rigid movements. Each time a hand reaches out toward him he flinches, though normally he’d be luxuriating in the attention.

Each flinch has Geralt’s grasp on his mug of ale tightening, until the wood is groaning beneath his hand and he has to shake it loose lest he crack the mug and send ale flowing over the table.

Jaskier can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.

He certainly does seem fine, and by the end of the evening he’s caught the attention of a pretty girl with voluminous curls spilling out from the dainty handkerchief tied around her head. When Jaskier is done with his performance she buys him a drink, and she leans over the table to giggle as they speak in low voices.

Geralt watches from his corner table and scowls. He tells himself his foul mood comes from concern for Jaskier, from worry that this woman might hurt him unintentionally. He almost has himself convinced it’s true.

There’s no point skulking in the shadows all night, he knows, so he finishes his ale and heads upstairs to their room. As he lays down, the bed feels strangely empty without Jaskier’s bustle and scent and colour. Wondering when he became so damn soft, he slips into a meditation.

It’s not long before he’s revived by the sound of Jaskier creeping into the room and hurriedly undressing.

Geralt rubs his eyes, dispelling the lingering wooziness. “I thought you’d spend the night celebrating,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “With that nice young lady.”

In the low light, he sees Jaskier shrug. “It got rather awkward when she kept trying to touch me and I kept having to run away.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He settles into bed next to Geralt. “It’s just -” Geralt can smell the mixture of exhilaration, arousal, and frustration on him. “It’s frustrating. Wanting something and not being able to have it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt knows that feeling all too well.

“I’m -” Jaskier turns his head away a fraction, and Geralt can see a blush spreading over his cheeks. “I’m not used to going so long without… you know. It’s making me antsy.” He rubs the palm of one hand against his crotch, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“Hmm.” He inhales again, and the scent of arousal is sharper, more prominent. He rolls onto his side, tentatively places a hand on Jaskier’s thigh. “I could help,” he offers. “If you want.”

He’s expecting to be told no. He’s expecting Jaskier might even push him away, disgusted. He’s not expecting the way Jaskier sucks in a breath, the way the scent of arousal blooms, the way Jaskier squims beneath his hand.

“You’d do that for me?” Jaskier’s voice is breathy.

I’d do anything for you, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead he places his hand on top of Jaskier’s and guides it to the fastenings of his trousers. Jaskier unlaces himself in a clumsy rush which Geralt can’t help but find endearing, and then he’s working his cock free, rubbing gentle strokes with their two joined hands.

It’s nice like this, where Geralt can let Jaskier guide him, show him what he likes. His fingers tease along the soft skin on the underside of his cock, the delicious slick at the head. As he strokes, Jaskier shakes in his arms, gasping and writhing. When he comes, it’s with a soft, gentle sigh of contentment that Geralt wants to bottle and keep forever.

Jaskier makes a tokenistic effort to wipe himself down with a shirt and collapses back into bed. “Should I…” He chews his bottom lip. “Would you like me to return the favour?”

Geralt’s cock is pressing against his trousers like iron, and Jaskier must be able to feel it. But he didn’t do this with the expectation of recompense. He just wants Jaskier to feel good.

“No, it’s okay,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Jaskier sounds disappointed, almost. “Okay.”

They fall asleep like that, curled up close together, but a feeling of uncertainty hanging between them.

In the weeks after that, Jaskier takes to touching Geralt even more. They sleep close together every night, and they find pleasure in each other when they need to. Geralt makes his peace with this unspoken arrangement: he is a hand to Jaskier when he needs it, and Jaskier returns the favour as a politeness.

The first time Jaskier kisses him while they rut together, his heart is fit to burst out of his chest. Trading favours is one thing, but the surge of love and heat and affection that erupts in his chest when Jaskier brings their lips together can’t be denied. He could kiss Jaskier every single night and never tire of it, he thinks. Late at night, as they move together, Geralt feels himself falling.

It’s not everything he wants, but it’s enough.

It has to be enough, because soon they’ll make it to Kovir, and then they can lift the curse, and then Jaskier won’t need him at all any more.

Geralt catches himself wishing that the curse won’t be lifted, and then he’s disgusted at himself for being so selfish.

Kovir is beautiful. Sharp, snow-dusted mountains dart up into the sky, and great rivers flow with fresh water through green, lush lands. The city of Pont Vanis is breathtaking, with spire towers reaching up toward the heavens and rich mosaics of glasswork covering every surface. Each new corner seems to hold some elegant delight of artistry, and Jaskier grabs his hand to pull him along each new street to behold some fresh wonder.

But they are not here for gawping, Geralt tells himself, and he steers them toward the address of the mage he’s heard is an expert in curses.

Once inside, the Koviri mage stares at the pair of them.

“A curse, you say?” He raises an eyebrow.

Geralt stands protectively behind Jaskier, ready to leap to his defense should the mage prove troublesome.

“Yes. Whenever anyone touches me, I feel horrendous pain.” Jaskier grimaces. “Except for Geralt. For some reason, he can touch me and it’s fine.”

The mage nods. “I see. Did you perchance anger a magic user?”

“Ahh.” Jaskier looks at his feet. “Well. There was a mage whose acquaintance I made. He seemed… less than happy when I declined his offer of companionship.”

The Koviri mage shudders. “What monsters southerners can be. Cursing someone because they rejected you, what hideous behaviour.”

Geralt is warming up to this mage already.

“Let me see what I can do.” The mage closes his eyes and reaches out his hands, holding them a few inches from Jaskier’s chest.

He opens his eyes again and squints curiously. “Strange. I can’t feel any curse upon you.”

He reaches out, and pokes Jaskier in the chest. Geralt leaps forward, ready to defend his bard from this onslaught, but he’s stopped in his tracks by Jaskier’s voice.

“Huh.” He sounds perplexed, not pained. “That’s odd. That didn’t hurt at all.”

They reason perhaps it’s because the mage is a magic user too, so they bring in the mage’s servant. He touches Jaskier’s hand and again he’s fine. Then they try the washerwoman next door. That’s fine too.

The mage shrugs and smiles. “It seems that the curse has worn off. Some weaker enchantments only last a matter of days.”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “You mean… all this time, I’ve been fine? I could have been touching anyone?”

The mage hums, eyes sparkling. “So it appears.” He looks at Geralt, and his gaze is penetrating. “Perhaps it has not been such a loss for you though, hmm? There are many paths to knowledge.”

They stagger out into the weak Koviri sunshine and Geralt is consumed with guilt and relief and worry. Surely Jaskier will hate him now. Hate him and leave him, now they’re no longer tied together.

“Jaskier-” he begins, just as Jaskier turns to him to say, “Geralt-”

They stare at each other a beat too long.

Geralt’s shoulders slump. Let the end come if it must. “Go on,” he says, bracing himself.

“Thank you.” Jaskier is giving him that soft, quiet smile that he loves. “For taking care of me.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I should have known better. I understand if you want to leave.”

Jaskier shakes his head and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads Geralt toward one of Kovir’s elegant public parks. “Let’s walk.”

They stroll beneath a series of wooden archways, woven thick with roses. The sunlight peeks through in dappled spots on the springy grass.

“I don’t regret it,” Jaskier says. “These last weeks. I don’t blame you. You’ve done nothing but try to help me.”

“But you could have been with anyone.” Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought he’s been keeping Jaskier against his will. “You could have touched anyone. Kissed anyone. Found anyone else to bring you pleasure.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier stops and tenderly brushes a stray hair from Geralt’s face. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

Geralt barely dares to breath. Hope rages within him, frothing and exuberant. “You mean-”

“I didn’t want anyone else then, and I don’t want anyone else now.” He leans in and presses the softest kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I always just wanted you.”

His heart feels like it could beat out of his chest. “So you’ll stay with me? Even now?”

Jaskier strokes one finger down his cheek, and his entire world narrows to the joining of their bodies. “Always,” Jaskier promises. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

#obsessed with touch... me... hahaha. it's fine i'm fine.#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #octoberfest #we did it folks!! 31 fics in 31 days!!#i enjoyed writing this one especially

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

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izaswritings · 3 years ago

Text

Title: who we are in the aftermath

Fandom: The Owl House

Synopsis: Belos falls and the Golden Guard survives. It’s a new world and a new day, and sooner or later Hunter has to figure out where he fits in it.

Or: in which Hunter stays at the Owl House, becomes a (very, very reluctant) apprentice, continues to have accidental sibling shenanigans with the annoying human, and finally finds a place where he belongs. Probably.

AO3 link is here.

[Next chapter is here!]

chapter one: battling birds

They give him a room near the east side of the house, stuffed full of broken things and a miscellaneous number of random items. It’s not the human’s old room, and not Lilith’s, either—there’s too much dust and too much stuff for either option. Hunter can’t tell if he’s grateful for this or not. He’s still deciding on whether he’s grateful for the room at all.

There’s no time to set up a bed. He spends his first night here on a blanket, restless and half-awake and lying so still he’s half-convinced he’s shaking from the strain of not moving at all, not making a single sound. He can practically taste the dust on every inhale—does the Owl Lady ever clean, Titan help him—and by some godawful midnight hour Hunter gives up on sleep entirely and sits up, carefully, to whisper to his palisman.

Nothing important. None of the real questions that are swirling around in his head, like what am I even doing here and why am I still here and what am I supposed to do now, do you know? Instead he just says nonsense things, useless things, like “If I shine a flashlight in that little demon’s face do you think I could get him to chase the dot?”

The palisman coos and chirps and sings nonsense back. Red is a pretty color. I like tulips. If we iced over the Boiling Sea could we make human rain?

“None of those answers make sense,” Hunter tells it, and then writes a small note about the sea and rain connection on the dusty floor, if only because that’s actually kind of interesting and he wants to check it out again later.

Red tulips are tasty, replies the palisman, and nuzzles his fingers when he goes to pet it. Its feathers are soft and its eyes are luminous in the moonlight. Nonsense, all of it, but the nonsense helps—familiar as a friend, safe and easy. Better than thinking of Belos. Better than wondering what he’s doing here, sleeping on the floor in the Owl Lady’s house.

The human has left. He could walk out right now and she’d never know, not that her disappointment has any bearing on if he chooses to stay or go. She’s vanished back to the human world, probably gone forever. This house means nothing to Hunter—the Owl Lady is annoying and dislikes him about as much as Hunter dislikes her, and as endearing as the weird little demon is, that isn’t enough to make Hunter want to stay.

He could leave easily. He could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hunter tells the palisman, at last, hours later. It is almost morning. The sunrise has only just begun, the peace of this dusty attic room wavering thin and fragile in the light of early dawn. It is a quiet admission. He says it very soft. “I don’t know if I know anything.”

I love you, says the palisman.

“That’s not an answer either.”

Oh, well.

Twenty minutes later, the Owl Lady’s weird bird-worm security creature bursts through the window and sings good morning loud enough to shatter eardrums. Hunter grabs his staff, throws a blast at the thing on instinct, teleports to the kitchen in a panic, and smacks the Owl Lady in the face with his palisman first thing in the morning.

The easy explanation is this: the castle falls and Belos dies and the Golden Guard somehow survives it all: portal collapse and half-realm merge and everything, which means when the dust settles, ultimately Hunter is left with absolutely no idea of what to do with himself.

“You should work with Eda!” says the human, in the aftermath. Given she says this in the ruin of what was once the Emperor’s castle, barely a half hour after—everything—Hunter feels pretty justified in his response. Which is to say he strangles his broken mechanical staff in his hands, takes a deep breath, and says in a very tight voice: “No.”

“But—!”

“No. No, no, no. I can’t even believe I did this, I don’t… it’s not happening. No.”

The human—he does actually know her name by now, after all they’ve been through, but also given all of This Nonsense she has lost name privileges—does not take that well. Of course she doesn’t. She’s so fourteen it makes Hunter want to die inside.

“Why not?” the human says, petulant. She has her hands on her hips and everything.

Hunter is kneeling in the rubble of a castle he’s called home for almost all his life. Somewhere down there is the throne where Belos used to sit; somewhere down there is a body. It’s not a surprise, really. It’s not a shock. From the moment the palisman fluttered into his life and Hunter let it stay, he always knew, deep down, that one day he was going to have to choose.

It does not make breathing any easier. “I don’t want to,” he says.

“You can learn wild magic! And, and glyphs! Eda knows a lot—”

“Does the Owl Lady know you’re offering up her house to an old enemy?”

“Eda won’t mind. Well, okay, maybe she’ll mind a little, but— she’ll let you stay if I ask her!” Yeah. The Owl Lady probably would. The human has that witch wrapped around her little finger; Hunter almost snorts. “Please, just hear me out. I’m sure we can—”

“No.”

“Hunter…”

“Don’t talk like we’re friends,” Hunter hisses. He drops the broken remains of the mechanical staff and stands, his hands curled to fists. “Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know anything. You don’t—” He can’t breathe. He drops back to his knees in the rubble and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just stop. Please.”

The human doesn’t say anything for a long time. On his shoulder, the palisman, thus far staying silent, flutters its wings and hops down to his knee, nudging his hand with its beak. It sings nothing. Just stays there.

After a moment, the human kneels next to him. There is blood on her face and dirt staining her leggings. “I know,” she says, and she suddenly sounds very tired. “I’m sorry.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything.

“I just—” the human starts, and then she stops. “I don’t know how else to help you.”

She looks small and weirdly sad, which makes no sense at all, because she hated Belos and never really understood why Hunter did not. (Hunter is not sure why either. If that is still something he can say. If you can betray your uncle and fight against your uncle and—and— and do these things, do everything Hunter has done, and still say that this feeling isn’t hatred.)

They aren’t friends, Hunter and the human. They have barely been allies. He doesn’t need her help, and she probably knows that as well as he does. But Hunter looks at her then, and despite the rubble and the ash and the blood on his tongue, for some reason instead of digging himself a makeshift grave he says—

“…Okay.”

Which still doesn’t really explain anything, but then, that’s just how it goes.

“Okay!” says the Owl Lady, smacking down her second cup of apple blood on the table. She does it too hard—a good splash of blood escapes the confines of the cup and adds yet another stain to her already-stained dining table. Hunter raises an eyebrow. The Owl Lady glares back. “House rules.”

There’s a red mark on her cheek, still, from where Hunter had hit her with his staff, and a stain all down her side from when, upon being hit with the staff, the Owl Lady spluttered and cursed and accidentally spilt the first cup of apple blood all over herself and the floor. She looks… barely awake.

“House rules,” Hunter echoes, dryly.

“Your scorn is noted and not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His palisman pecks his hand lightly. “Ow.”

“Luz, you owe me one,” mutters the Owl Lady, and takes a really deep drink of her apple blood. Hunter rubs at his hand, peeved, and eyes the palisman in case it gets any more hand-pecking ideas. The palisman blinks innocently back. Hmm.

“So. First of all.” The Owl Lady raises a finger. “Break any of my stuff and I end you.”

So just like the castle, then. Hunter sees where this is going. He settles gingerly back against the chair—why, why is all of her furniture stained—and rests his cheek against one fist, already bored. “Noted.”

The Owl Lady puts up a second finger. There’s a long silence.

“…Seriously?” says Hunter.

“Quiet, you.” She snaps her fingers. “Hah! Got one! Hurt King or Luz or Hooty or anyone I like in any way and I’ll destroy you. Yeah, that works.”

Hunter gets the sneaking suspicion these house rules are being made up on the spot, and are also only for him. He knows better than to say that aloud. “Fine.” Wait. “How am I supposed to know which random people you like or dislike?”

The Owl Lady grins. Her gold fang glints. “That sounds like a you problem, don’t you think?” She cackles a little. “Guess you’ll just have to find out! Or, you know. Maybe don’t attack anyone? That’s a start.”

Her owl palisman coos a little. Her nose wrinkles. “What? What do you mean that’s hypocritical? Stay out of this, Owlbert, I’m teaching life lessons or something.” Her eyes turn to him. “Anyway. You get the gist.”

Hunter’s hand is curled white-knuckled around his knee. His palisman flutters from the table to his shoulder, singing nonsense again. Red tulips, so tasty. Its feathers brush against his cheek.

He pries his grip off his knee one finger at a time. “…Understood.”

“Good.” The Owl Lady stands and stretches, yawning wide into one hand. “Anyway, I’ll give you a pass for this morning, because Hooty can be…” She trails off. Outside, muffled by the front door, the bird-worm creature shouts “HOOT” at full volume and then smacks into a tree.

“…a lot,” decides the Owl Lady. “But seriously, keep the windows locked. I don’t want you trying to blast him and burning my house down. I just got it back.”

Hunter says nothing. The Owl Lady squints at him and then picks her mug back up. “Riiiight… well, good talk, I guess. Get some more sleep, kid, you look worse than Luz after an all-nighter.” She waits. Hunter raises an eyebrow at her. “Ugh. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

At least Hunter isn’t the only one second-guessing everything. Still, that reminds him. “The human.”

“Luz,” says the Owl Lady, unimpressed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He links his fingers. The palisman flies down from his shoulder to his cupped hands, and hops a determined circle in his palm for no apparent reason. Hunter watches it play. “…Is she coming back?”

“What, tired of our company already?”

“Yes,” Hunter says, because obviously.

“Rude. Well, can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.” There’s a long silence. The Owl Lady sighs. “Luz… she promised she’d come back. You were there, weren’t you?”

Yeah, he had been. Standing in the back of the group, on the fringes of the goodbye. Two hours after the end, and the human had already roped the Owl Lady into letting Hunter live in her stupid owl house, and also somehow run around hugging pretty much everyone. And then she’d stepped through the mirrors that were all that remained of the realm-merge between her world and theirs, and not come back since.

She had, indeed, promised to return. But that was hours ago; that was yesterday. The mirrors are gone and no doors remain. And Hunter does not put much faith in promises.

“And when,” he asks the Owl Lady, a little lofty, a little snide. “When, exactly, do you think she’s coming back?”

The Owl Lady’s eyes narrow. Her lips press thin. For a moment he thinks she might snap at him, but then her shoulders slump, and in the end she just looks away.

“I don’t know,” the Owl Lady admits.

Useless, Hunter thinks. But he doesn’t say it. Just nods and turns away to head back upstairs and make that stupid dusty storage room somewhat presentable, because if he’s going to be staying here for—for—for whatever amount of time he ends up staying here, he’s going to breathe actual air instead of dust, thanks.

“Remember, kid! House rules!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter says, and teleports back up the stairs without a single glance back.

Hunter manages to shove all the junk into one corner and make the start of a fairly presentable bed in the other corner by the time the human re-arrives in the Boiling Isles and throws open his door hard enough to smack it against the wall.

“You took my advice!” shouts the human, at the top of her lungs.

“Hiiiiii,” says Hunter, hands over his ears. The human takes a deep breath. Hunter closes the door in her face. “Byeeee.”

“Hey!”

“Why are you yelling.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s just nonsensical enough to get him to open the door. Why does this always happen to him? Why is the human like this? “You said I should come here! You said—”

“Psh,” says the human and flaps a hand in his face. Hunter stops mid-word, gritting his teeth, practically feeling his whole face turn bright red with rage. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just— I didn’t think you would actually listen! But you’re here!” She’s beaming. Hunter looks away. Her smile fades. “…Are you okay?”

He can’t sleep. His eyes are hot and burning like he wants to cry and he has no idea why. His uncle is dead.

“No,” he tells her. “No one in this house dusts. I’ve forgotten what air tastes like.”

“Psh-haw! I’m sure it's not that…” The human steps inside, inhales, and chokes. “Oh. Ay Dios mío. Wow, this room has not been dusted.”

“I noticed!”

“Oh, man.” She hides her nose in her elbow and sidles outside again. She’s wearing her weird human clothes and her palisman staff strapped to her back. She looks tired, and a little like she has no idea what she’s doing here either. She lingers in the door almost awkwardly, rolling back and forth from her heels to her toes.

Hunter watches her for a long moment. “You came back.”

“Haha. What gave it away?” But the smile she gives is small and blinding, brighter than the sun. “Watch this.”

“Watch wha—” The human lifts her hand and trails it through the air, dragging her fingers down in a straight line. Golden light follows her fingers. It breaks the air like a fractured mirror, a rift sparking to life in the hallway, the dark greens and blues of a galaxy intertwined with a burning glow. Hunter’s voice dies in his throat.

“If I push at it, it opens. Like a door. It leads me right home.” She’s smiling so wide it must hurt. The portal almost seems to whisper; the golden glow of the rift shines in her eyes and catches on her face, still tear-streaked. The human’s cried over this. She’s right to. The human world and the Boiling Isles—she has found a way to keep both.

Presumably he thinks he should be jealous. Instead he finds himself smiling too. “I’m glad,” Hunter tells her. “That’s… pretty cool.”

“Right!?” She bounces on her heels and waves a hand through the rift, dismissing it into nothing. “I can’t wait to show Amity. And Eda. And King. And you! The human world is—it’s amazing. The rain doesn’t kill you even a little bit!”

It takes sudden effort to keep up the smile. “…I’ve heard.”

“Anyway, I just came by to say hi. Eda said you were here, and—” She stops, visibly hesitating. Her head lowers. “I know… I know this must be hard. And that we aren’t really friends. But… if you need anyone to talk to… I’m here.” She peeks up her head a little, grinning. “After all, we’re house buddies now!”

“Human,” Hunter says. Her nose wrinkles. He sighs. “Luz.”

“Yeah?”

There’s so much he could say that for a moment he has no idea where to start. Why did you think this was a good idea. Please stop talking. Why are you so insistent that we could be friends. I didn’t say I was staying here for long. I’m very tired. You’re bizarrely forgiving. My uncle is dead because of you.

“…Thanks,” he says. “And— I’m sorry.”

Luz blinks at him. Then she grins. “Noooo problem, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!”

Hunter shoves her stupid smiling face away and closes the door on her toes. Luz yelps and swears and kicks at the door, and yells rude things in that other human language of hers. “Byeeeee,” Hunter says, and behind the closed door, Luz makes a muffled noise of rage and shouts, “Would you stop saying that!?”

And it doesn’t make things better but it doesn’t make things any worse, either, and when Hunter turns away he is almost smiling—so maybe it’s okay.

The sun sets. The dusty room has been aired out to its best ability, and Hunter has made a somewhat functional and comfy-looking bed in the corner. A sticky note with the boiling sea + ice = human rain idea has been ceremoniously pinned to the empty wall space. In addition to the sticky notes, Luz has donated his “sad, bad boy room” what looks to be a dying houseplant. Hunter suspects she gave it to him purely because she has despaired of trying to keep it alive herself.

He puts the plant on the windowsill. The palisman apparently loves it. Maybe he should find red tulips for it to eat. Whatever a red tulip is.

He settles next to the palisman on the windowsill, and strokes its head with his finger. He feels strangled and small and the sunset looks alien to him. Everything has changed. Everything is over. He is a powerless witch with a wild magic staff, and he will never be the Golden Guard again.

His eyes burn. He blinks fast. Far down below, he can hear the Owl Lady and Luz arguing over dinner.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Hunter tells the palisman. The sunset makes all the trees look shadow-like and sharp, outlined in red. It reminds him of his palisman, a little bit. “I don’t even like these people. What do you think? Is it too late to head back and dig myself a grave in the rubble?”

I’m happy I know you, chirps the palisman. It hops from the dying houseplant to the top of his head. I love you, I love you.

His throat feels tight. “…That still isn’t a real answer.”

I want apple blood for breakfast tomorrow. The palisman nibbles at his hair. It looks tasty.

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he closes his eyes. “Okay. If— if you say so.”

The sun is setting, and the light is warm on his face. The Boiling Isles feels, for once, almost something like peaceful. It probably won’t last.

“We’ll stay.”

#toh #the owl house #owl house #toh hunter #toh golden guard #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #hunter owl house #owl house fic #toh fic #fic: who we are in the aftermath #fic update

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