#have i mentioned he sneezes a lot?

[hachiibun]

So this was based on a story of the bf stifling in this specific manner one time—then swearing off ever stifling like that again~

He still does stifle, and he's able to do it hands-free but is used to pinching with one hand anyway ❤️ I had to listen to some recordings I have of him to get those spellings~

If you like my drawings, please consider sending a little something my way through ko-fi ☕! I don't have a steady source of income rn and I'll be opening commissions soon, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really appreciate it!

❗ PLEASE NO REBLOGGING TO NON-KINK BLOGS ❗

[krysmcscience]

It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... ����

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

[marvelwitchergilmore]

In Sickness and Health

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan takes care of you when you're sick.

Disclaimer: Mentions of throwing up, getting the flu, flashbacks to exploding boats. Mostly fluff for how Logan takes care of the reader. Couple of swear words. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You never got sick. 

It didn’t matter who you were around, or where you had been or what you had been doing. You never got sick. 

You could help ten puking kids, three more flu ridden ones, walk through a room full of adults who had everything from the flu to fainting from it, and still walk away and not have gotten sick. 

Standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you. 

In all fairness, he’d been watching you ever since he saw you sneeze whilst he was sitting outside teaching a kid outside of lesson times. Sitting in a classroom didn’t help the kid, but sitting outside on a bench, watching the world go by…well, the kids could recite the whole book by the end. 

For three days, you’d been sniffling, sneezing and coughing. No more than anyone else, but coming from you, it was concerning for Logan. 

He couldn’t get sick, but that was due to his own mutation. Not by some miracle act from God. 

So, standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you. 

Your nose was a little red from the amount of times you’d used a tissue against it in the last few days, your skin was flushed, your eyes heavy and your steps slow. 

For the third time in four minutes, you zipped your jumper back up and shivered. 

“You’re sick.”

Logan’s voice made you jump. He wasn’t loud but it still made your ears ring. 

“I am not sick.”

“Yes, you are.” Logan pushed himself from the door frame and he walked closer towards you. 

“I don’t get sick. I’m not sick. Just…tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“No, neither did I. I could hear you coughing and sneezing from down the hall.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Sure.” Logan raised his brows for a second. 

“It wasn’t.”

Then you sneezed. 

“Okay,” Logan practically sang, taking you by your shoulders. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I don’t need to go to bed. I’m making food-”

“We don’t need you making everyone else sick. One kid, fine. An entire school? Even Mother Teresa might struggle with that one.”

Logan stood behind you and guided you out of the door and down the hallways. 

“Why is it so hot in here?” Quickly zipping your jacket back down, you tried your hardest to get it off you as fast as you could. Logan helped you for a moment before pressing his hand to the back of your neck. 

“You’re sick.”

“I am not sick.”

“You’re freezing cold,” Logan pointed out. 

“Then why do I feel like I’m on fire?”

“Because,” Logan said. “You’re sick.”

Helping you down the hall and into your bedroom, Logan pulled the covers back from your bed and made sure you got into it. The minute your head hit the pillow, the pouding just became a dull ache. 

“If I’m so sick, why are you helping me? You’ll get sick.”

Logan shook his head as he tucked you in whilst simultaneously untucking your duvet from the frame of the bed. 

“I can’t get sick. My mutation makes sure I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“But what about the kitchen?” 

You went to get out of bed again but Logan practically ran around the bed to stop you. It didn’t take a firm hand to push you back down. 

He sat beside you, his arms caging you in where you lay. 

“Don’t worry about that. I can take care of it.”

“You can cook?”

Logan nodded. 

“You? You, Logan Howlett, can cook?”

Logan furrowed his brows, a little offended. “Don’t sound too shocked.”

“Just…never seen you cook an actual meal.”

Logan shrugged, “When you bunk with seven other soldiers who don’t know the difference between toast and charcoal, you learn pretty quickly.”

“Huh.” You said, slightly shocked by his admission. Though, come to think of it, Logan was full of surprises these days. 

Your friendship with him hadn’t started out on the best of terms given that you had punched him in the face when you first met him, thinking he was on the other team of people who were hunting you. 

You got a good swing in, too. Made his nose bleed. Which was never an easy feat when it came to someone like Logan. 

Of course, for a while, given that you didn’t want to join either team, or any team for that matter, you and Logan were a bit stand-offish to each other. On the rare occasion you did see each other (usually whenever X-Men came to find you), your communication with him was through glares and grunts. Which he gave back in return. 

Then the first couple of times he, technically, saved your life, you were more adamant on fighting him. Like when he pulled you out of the water when you fell in, even though it had been on purpose and you yelled at him for leaving the boat you’d both been on. 

“Oh, well excuse me for thinking I was saving your life!” He had yelled at you as you walked up the bank and found a log to throw your jacket over whilst you wrung out your hair and the bottom of your t-shirt. 

“I jumped, Logan. I didn’t fall. I knew what I was doing. You should be on that boat right now!”

“Maybe, but now I guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

Funnily enough, it was after that day you decided you hated him a little less. But it wasn’t from the water, it was when he actually listened to you and left the boat when you told him to just before it exploded. 

He was the one to find you back at the bank when you dragged yourself up it and collapsed, catching your breath. 

“You blew up a boat.”

You nodded. “I blew up a boat. And saved your life. I guess now we’re even.”

“Even, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He offered you his hand a minute later and pulled you up. 

It still took a while for you to both become friends, but at least from that day forward, you were both civil and talked. 

A few hours passed after Logan had tucked you in, or at least, you guessed they had, considering the sky was less sun-lit and more moon-lit. 

“Hey,” Logan shook you awake gently and you turned over, your entire body hurting as you did so. 

Slowly you sat up and felt Logan’s hands brush the hair from your face until he could see you clearly. 

“Here, take these. Drink this.”

You swallowed down two tablets but made a small groan when Logan didn’t let go of the cup. 

“You’ve already broken two, this is just safer.”

Then you remembered. 

Logan kept his hand on the bottom of the cup as you held it and drank from it before pulling it away and placing it on your side table.

And looked down. 

“Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“Because I found it in your draw. And it’s easier to get you out of it, if you spill something on it again.”

You furrowed your brows. “You got me changed?”

“It was either that or listen to you keep falling around in here.” 

You grunted a small response as Logan went to lift something else from beside your bed. “Here, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” You tried to push it away. 

“You haven’t eaten in two days. You need to eat something.”

You groaned again. “What is it?”

“Soup.” Logan gave you a small spoonful, the heat from the bottom of the bowl warming his hand. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He managed to get at least half of the bowl down before you rejected it saying you were full. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because someone else might actually think you mean what you say while you're sick.”

You were still for a moment, then nodded. Maybe he was right. 

“What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

You just hummed and slowly lay back down in bed. 

“You just get some rest.” Logan told you, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of your hand before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You didn’t know if it was a minute, but he was back. 

With his hand against your forehead, and through the blurry vision of your eyes in the dark, you could tell he looked worried. 

“Honey, you’re burning up.” He told you, slowly peeling back each layer of bedding you’d put on top of yourself. 

You hissed as he pulled the final layer back. “Logan, it’s freezing.”

“Come here, sit up for me.”

And you did. 

Crouching in front of your legs, Logan kept his eyes on you until he checked the thermometer was on. 

“Open up.”

You did so and he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. 

“I’m surprised you know how to do this.”

“Stop talking.”

You waited for a few seconds, but then you had to speak. 

“Logan, I don’t feel so good.”

“I know-”

Within a split second, you pulled the thermometer from your mouth, left it on the bed and a momentarily confused Logan behind as you ran towards your bathroom and flipped up the toilet lid. 

“Okay, okay.” Logan was right behind you, pulling your hair back and rubbing your back as you practically threw your guts up into the toilet bowl. 

Eventually, it stopped but you remained where you were. The puking might have stopped for a moment but the gurgling inside your stomach hadn’t. 

“I think I’m sick.”

Logan gave a fake scoff. “See, now that’s just untrue.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” you told him, feeling a small smile on your face before it was wiped away by the wave of a sick feeling again. 

For a moment, the gurgling in your stomach subsided and you dropped to the side of the toilet against the wall. 

Logan quickly ran a fresh wash cloth under the sink before he wiped your face down, removing some of the sick stains and sweat. Once he ran it clean, he gave it to you to place at the back of your neck. 

Then he stood up again and started searching through the draws around the sink til he found what he was looking for. 

“Lean forward a little.”

You followed his instructions before you felt his hands scoop up your hair and secure it with a scrunchie he had found. 

“Thank you.”

Reaching up to the counter, he pulled down the thermometer he was yet to check and gave a small whistle.

“Well, what’s the verdict, doc? Girl or boy?”

“39.6.”

“That’s a lot of kids..”

“I’ve called Jean. She’s still tied up at that conference in Melbourn but she should be back soon.”

“Hopefully she knows how I can give birth to that many.”

“Think you can stand?”

“After giving birth? Hell no.”

Logan sighed, but you didn’t miss the chuckle that escaped him as he helped you up off the floor. 

“You okay?” Logan asked you if you gripped onto him as you swayed on the spot. 

“Dizzysall.” You drawled a little as you spoke, closing your eyes. 

“Let's get you back into bed.”

Logan helped you from your bathroom, back into your bedroom and into bed. You pulled the covers back over you, only to have Logan pull them off again. You whined a little. 

“We still need to get your temp down, bub.”

You gave in, your strength leaving you as tiredness kicked right back in. Again, Logan brushed the stray hairs from your face as you tried your best to fight off sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t, remember?” Logan’s voice was soft. “Mutation stops it.”

You nodded, remembering, letting out a small; “Lucky bastard.”

Logan chuckled but just sat beside you as your hand held onto his while your eyes closed, giving him a little more freedom to let his eyes wander around your room. 

You had a couple pictures round your room, but not many. However, you did have a hefty parcel you were yet to open, on your desk that he could guarantee contained some. Also on your desk you had a small record player, as well as the records lined up beside it. You had everything ranging from Christmas Classics to Movie Soundtracks to 80s rock. Most had been your own that you brought with you when you moved into the school, taking up a teaching position. But some others had been gifts from birthdays, christmases and the last couple had been from one’s Logan had found himself. He thought you might like to add them to your collection so picked them up and brought them back from flea markets and other places he found whenever he went out. 

From what he could see, the last record you had played was one he had found for you. 

When you were sound asleep, Logan stood and walked across your room and opened up your window which let in a cool breeze. 

He was quiet as he moved about your room, shutting the door a little so he could flush the toilet without disturbing you before he tidied up the bathroom a little. 

Then he started cleaning around your room, wiping down any surface you had touched and any that you could have. 

By the time he finished, he woke you up again to make sure you got some more fluids down you all the while feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You feel cooler.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted to hear.” 

Taking the thermometer from your bedside table, he uncapped it and placed it under your tongue. You stayed quiet this time, waiting for the beep. 

Your temperature had gone down a little, but not by much. 

“Logan? Will you stay with me?”

Logan nodded. “Sure, bub. Lay down.”

You did so and he walked around the other side of your bed, pulling the covers to the floor save for the thinnest and lightest one. 

Almost instantly you curled into him and closed your eyes, his arms holding you close. 

“Thank you for making sure I don’t die.”

Logan smiled. “If you did, who would give me crap from cooking?”

You gave a slight smile before sleep overtook you. You woke a couple of hours later to chuck up the last few remaining ounces of your internal organs, and Logan stayed with you the whole time. 

And when you fell asleep on your window seat, having been desperate for fresh air that didn’t smell like the inside of a toilet bowl, Logan carried you back into bed. 

By the time morning rolled around, you had less of a rough storm inside your stomach but you were no better than the night before. 

So, Logan made you take a shower. 

“I’m gonna keep this door open,” Logan called over his shoulder, between the gap he had left in the door. “Shout me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Immediately, Logan started stripping your bed covers and sheets, changing them for fresh ones. He was almost done when you came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Saying nothing, you moved over to sit by the window seat and let the fresh air brush around you. 

Logan found you an extra towel and wrapped it over your shoulders so you wouldn’t get too cold, or even sicker, before going in search of some clothes. 

You managed to pull your arms through the t-shirt and lift it over your head. Logan helped pull it down over the rest of your towel covered body and left you to deal with your pants whilst he shut the window so the gap for air wasn’t so big. 

You pulled the towel undone from underneath you and Logan took it from you, throwing it into the laundry basket by your door. 

You managed to twist your hair into a bun as you walked over to your bed, laying on top of the sheets. 

The rest of the day was spent sleeping, waking up when Logan came back to make sure you were getting enough water and medicine down you as well as keeping it down. And by the afternoon, he had found a couple of old movies. 

And when you asked him to stay with you, he did. 

You fell asleep fifteen minutes in, but Logan still stayed with you. And even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Because your hands had been held above his, over your middle since he lay beside you. 

You turned over, half way through the movie, gripping onto his shirt and he just rested his chin on the top of your head. 

You woke up six hours later and felt better. 

Over the next two days, your fever finally went down and you stopped gagging at every smell that was stronger than laundry softener. Until finally, you were sat up in bed with Logan, able to feed yourself without your arms screaming at you to just not move an inch. 

“I mean it, Logan. Thank you. For everything.” You told him, turning to look at him. 

He had made you some more soup and gave you some added crackers. Your appetite wasn’t back but you were thankful that you were actually hungry for once and not feeling sea sick. 

“Don’t mention it. How’s the soup?”

“Tastier now that it doesn’t smell like everything else did.”

Logan nodded. “Still surprised that I can cook?”

“Oh, yeah. I still need to see you cook to believe it though.”

Logan smiled. You were getting better. 

The conversation flowed for a while longer until you asked Logan one specific question. 

“Do you remember when we became friends? I’m not talking about after the boat. I mean like, actual friends.”

“We’re friends?”

You scoffed, hiding your smile whilst he showed his, and shoved him slightly. 

“I’m kidding. But you remember the river?”

You nodded. “Of course. You don’t exactly forget jumping from an exploding vessel.”

Logan waited a moment and then nodded. “I remember when we became friends. You took care of Rouge. She wouldn’t let anyone in to see her, but she let you.” 

Logan leaned his head back and looked up to the ceiling. “God, I remember that. I think you even called me an ass.”

“Correction; A jackass.”

“Forgive me.”

“Forgiven.” You nodded. “You were so worried about her, and I couldn’t blame you. But you were being a jackass.”

“I just remember racing home and by the time I got upstairs, everyone was in bed, except for you. You stayed with her all night.”

“So you made me a cup of coffee.” You finished for him. 

Logan nodded. “I remember all of that. Why’d you ask?”

“Because I’m glad it happened.” You told him. “Not Rouge getting sick, but…the moment. I’m glad we became friends with Logan, because it made me trust you outside of being an X-Man. And, I’m sorry about all the disgusting things you’ve witnessed in the past couple of days but…I’m glad you were the one to help me. I trust you, Logan. With my life. Both figuratively and literally.”

Logan shifted his hand so it held onto yours. “I’m glad, too.”

A few moments passed and you both broke eye contact when a pair of familiar heels were heard coming down the hallway. 

“Here you both are.”

Jean was finally back. “You’re looking better than Logan described.”

You looked at Logan for a moment before looking back at Jean. “Yeah, it’s been…rough.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better now,” you smiled a little. “Logan had a lot to do with it.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m just gonna go and check on everyone else. Make sure they’re not coming down with something, too. Are you two okay here?”

You nodded, “We’re fine.”

Jean didn’t fail to spot where Logan was holding your hand, and she gave a brief smile before heading towards the door. 

A week later you were right as rain and was finally getting to see something you had been begging to witness all week. 

Logan cook. 

You sat by the kitchen island, watching him prepare the ingredients, cook said ingredients, all the while creating a delicious meal that wasn’t just soup and crackers, all without burning the house down. 

“So you really know how to cook?” You asked, bouncing a wooden spoon between your fingertips. 

“I really know how to cook.” Logan said with a small smile as he sliced through the pastry. 

“Why don’t you do it more often?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Pass me that?”

You handed over the wooden spoon and Logan started stirring something. “Come and try this.”

And you did. 

That night, you both sat out on the balcony, watching the stars go by. 

And, as you sat there, watching the stars go by, the music from the record player steaming out from the kitchen, you looked over at Logan and realised something. 

You trusted him. 

You more than trusted him. 

You, in fact, loved him. 

It would be a few months more before something would happen between you both, but you would come to find out that Logan had realised that exact same thing. But rather than realise it out on the balcony, he had realised it for himself back inside the kitchen when you had stood beside him. 

He couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Why, for such a small moment, had he realised then. But either way, he was thankful for it. Both of your lives were lived in higher stakes. 

To have a small moment feels so connected with such a big one…

Looking at you, and having you look back in the same manner…

That meant the world to him. 

In sickness and in health, 

You meant the World to him. 

[thephant0menace]

| Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley head cannons

Being in a relationship with Ghost

Warnings: fem!reader x Simon Riley, strong language, fluff, slightly suggestive and mentions of sex, mention of blood and wounds, lots of pet names, simons awful dad jokes😨

Simon is a very intimate and physical lover.

He loves touching you and will always want to be close and affectionate with you, as he didn’t get that kinda physical affection as a kid.

He’s not big on PDA but as soon as you guys walk through the front door of your house, he’s all over you.

He’s absolutely terrified of accidentally hurting you like his father use to do to his mother.

So when you first started dating he was so cautious and gentle with you.

He was scared he’d break you.

But eventually he got more confident and comfortable with you…thanks to all your late night counselling sessions together on random nights. 

He never tells you about his injuries after returning from missions, so you’ll randomly find wounds on his body through out the night.

It’s an effort to get him to let you patch him up and be acts all tough as he doesn’t want to worry you.

“Just let me patch you up…it’ll be quick!”

“It’s fine, darlin’.”

“Simon, you’ve got a huge slash up your arm…”

“I’m alright. Let’s just go to the bedroom, I missed you.”

“I love you but we are not having sex with your arm sliced open.”

He’d eventually give in after lots of whining and complaining from him.

He hates to admit it but he does like it when you play doctor and sit in his lap, patching him all up.

“Look so pretty in my lap, lovie.”

You just roll your eyes, fighting back a smirk as you clean his wounds.

He loves when you give him back massages after missions and he happily returns them.

Loves when you use all your special essential oils and lotions to massage his sore muscles.

100% has fallen asleep mid massage.

Simon hates spicy food.

But he will suffer through it if you make it for him because he loves it when you cook.

“Simon? Are you alright?” You try to hold back a laugh as you stare at him from across the table.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, m’fine…” He mumbled out, tears welling up in his eyes as he reluctantly scoops another spoonful of spicy pasta into his mouth.

You raise a brow suspiciously, “you don’t look fine…are you crying?”

“No! No, I’m not. Promise.”

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to have it,” you chuckle.

“I told you, I’m fine. Just a bit of spice…” there are tears practically spilling from his eyes and down his flushed cheeks.

You still tease him about it to this day.

He has also taught you how to make tea like a proper Brit.

He doesn’t believe in water.

This man lives off tea and bourbon. NOTHING ELSE.

He’s super quiet for a big guy.

He’s stealthy 🤨

So sometimes you don’t even hear him approaching and it scares that shit outta you.

He finds it hilarious yet he doesn’t even mean to.

Simon also sneezes so fucking loud.

Like you know those big ass sneezes dads do…yeah like that.

It quite literally makes you jump, every. single. time.

No matter how long you’ve been together…it always gets you.

DAD JOKES! DAD JOKES! DAD JOKES!

“Hey love,” he rasps out, voice croaky from sleep.

“Hm?” You groan, opening your eyes slightly.

“What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray? A seasoned Veteran.”

“Simon, it’s 2 am.”

A/N: you guys seem to like my Ghost head cannons, so eat up🫶🫶

Also…more Konig and potentially Price fics coming up next!

[bluexiao]

#“is this… a love bite, darling?”

—you have a hickey… or is it really?

CHARACTERS. Al-Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, Kazuha, Tighnari, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Xiao

THEMES. mostly crack, slightly suggestive, fluff (mentions of scenting on Tighnari’s but it’s for the laughs anyway); has a few curses here and there

NOTES. I’M BACK !!! haven’t written this much for… weeks? i think it’s been a month or two. i hope i did not rusted out but hey enjoy~ also, happy birthday ayato yay

XIAO knew very well that he had mostly been absent these days–actually, for most of the days. It is true, but he did try to give you as much time as he could whilst not overlooking his duty to Liyue.

This time, you tried to play a prank on him (well, you did miss him a lot), and it was a suggestion from your friend… yep, it is certainly not the boss of your Yaksha’s god who is probably now awaiting for the news of how your lover will react on that small mark on your neck.

“What is the meaning of this?” his voice looms over all of a sudden.

“Xiao!” You jump for a second, surprised at how fast he had gotten in the room when you had just barely uttered his name aloud. Your surprise strengthens even more as his spear falls to the side and he steps forward to your form, eyes trained on your neck, with a hand raising carefully-

“What… happened to your…” he trails off, raising his eyes to meet yours, “why are you hurt? Did… did someone do this to you?”

You could tell that he was this close to speed off to try and find anyone who could have possibly caused such a mark in your (delicate) skin—ah!

“N-no, I mean… I just…” you bit your lip, I just scratched it… a bit too much, I suppose,” you then took his raised hand (that was too fearful to even touch you), and smiled gently his way. “Don’t worry about it too much, love.”

The tension on his shoulders ease up, but you could tell he was still worried with the frown on his lips and the concern in his eyes.

“I see… should I ask for an ointment? Yes, I probably should… I’ll be back in a moment.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

The WANDERER’s eyes immediately zero into your neck.

Was he forgetting something?

Did something happen last night??

Did he perhaps accidentally do something that-

“Hey, what’s on your mind, love?” you’d try to get him to spit it out-but nope, he wouldn’t say a single thing about it.

You’d probably think he was all jealous and shit, but this prick actually misunderstood it!

“No, it’s nothing,” he hurriedly dismisses you, looking away with a small blush on his cheeks, “it’s just… do you not have a scarf?! It’s cold nowadays. Can’t have you sneezing right in front of my face.”

He immediately tries to get a hold of a scarf—no matter whose it is.

“But it’s not cold in Sumeru at all!”

“Oh, is it? Then still wear it. The sun might damage your skin, can't have you complaining about it.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

TIGHNARI, for one, is naturally someone who does not shy away when words need to be said. A very straightforward one, you need not be told as you already knew very much. So when the time came that you suddenly had a mark on your neck (that you did not know where it came from) and it looks very much like a love bite that someone would give to a person they like, he was already by your side in a heartbeat.

“Hm, I do not think I quite recall giving such a mark on you, darling,” he’d whisper next to your ear as he so nonchalantly brushes away the piece of clothing that tried to hide the mark—but it wasn’t enough, it appears… or so you made it to be.

“Nari, I-”

“Huh? What was that?” He’d cut you off purposefully, an arm around your waist. And all of a sudden, he was all over you, probably scenting you like a madman until he realizes it was all fake and he’d pretend nothing happened in the past few minutes when everyone and you saw how he reacted not too long ago.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA is a sly little piece of shit. He does not ask you anything about it until he gets close enough to examine them. Would very much know what you would think before you could even think about it (sometimes he has his friend, the wind, tell him about it, what a weirdo right), and he would call you out in a way that would not be too direct, sometimes, it would even take you a while to realize that he was trying to communicate to you something and he would just be very patient about it.

“Dove, I think you have something on your neck,” he’d probably say, and you’d stiffen as you thought he caught on to your act… but he’d just flash you a sweet smile as he raises… a leaf.

A fucking leaf.

Where in Teyvat did that even come from?!

“I suppose even nature loves the feeling of your skin, my love.”

Nope! He definitely has you all figured out and is just trying to make your skin crawl… well, two can play the game, right?

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAEYA would know what a love bite would look like, especially when it’s from him and on you.

And this one on you? Well, it doesn’t even look like a hickey.

Ah, he would think, he gets it now.

One look was all it took for him to find out, and one look was all it took for you to find out what was in his mind as well. With this, you would begin to think of ways to try and not let him get you alone, but you soon realized that even if you two were with friends or in a public setting, this man would not stop at anything… to tease you back.

“What is it, dear? Don’t tell me… you’re giving up now, are you? Come on, you have my whole attention. What is it that you want from me?”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CHILDE would also very much know what his hickey looks like—and this one is definitely not his!

Actually, he did not even notice just how much you botched this fake hickey because he was already marching his way toward you.

“Babe, you’re coming with me,” he thought he was smooth as he ushered you out of the Bank, his subordinates following your forms before whispering about the mark on your neck once you two were out of reach.

Oh, how many people you fooled that day.

“What is the meaning of thi—” he immediately stops on his tracks as he finally realizes once he was this close to you and once he had focused on how it doesn’t really look like a love bite at all and how idiotic he probably looks and sounds right now.

Your laugh suddenly resonates through the walls of his office, even playfully slapping his shoulder as he purses his lips into a pout and narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I won this time, babe, sorry not sorry,” you flash him a grin and he could not help but melt at how angelic you look right now despite the looming defeat he had.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was quite certain of his absence. It cannot be blamed on the nature of his position and his work, however, it was still irresponsible of him to neglect his lover. And thus, he was actually in the middle of a plan for his surprise for you a few days from now–to at least make it up for the lost time due to the work he had taken over these past few days.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. Surely that mark on your neck, just a few inches below your jaw is not a love bite… right? He was fairly sure that he had been away for the past nights prior to tonight, so…

“My dear, do you not feel like your neck feels lonely these days?” he’d ask in a smooth voice, then pulling out a box behind him, revealing a gift that encased a gorgeous necklace that you were pretty sure cost a lot.

You failed to answer or say anything at all, baffled at how easily he had gotten you speechless and to forget about the prank you had set up for him–wait, has he not seen it yet? You’d question yourself, surely, he could have, right?

“So, would you like to explain to me why there is a fake love bite on your skin? Darling? Perhaps you’d like to see what a real one looks like.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AL-HAITHAM is another self-aware man, at least, that’s what he thinks he is. If you had been with him for a long time or at the very least knew him as much, you would know just how much of a lie that is. After all, Al-Haitham is a very dense guy. He may be aware that he had been busy the past few days, but his thoughts do not wander toward how you might feel because of this.

“Is there… something I am missing?”

He asks with a tilt of his head to the side, probably looking at you up and down and… something just seems… odd.

“What?” You raised a brow as you felt your face heat up—did he see it? Questions rose to your mind as you can’t help but also feel embarrassed with what you’re doing right now.

He doesn’t notice it!?!

“Ugh, never mind!” You walk out of the room, and unbeknownst to you, he is mumbling on his own before he settles his eyes on his book once more.

“That mark… did I make that?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated&lt;3

TAGLIST (please fill up this form if you wish to be added or removed) 

@jasmyluv @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @raideneiari @zushikiss @aravensquill @ajaxstar @tanuki-s @flutterawayx @eoues @yhreah @dojis @alatusprinz @crystalcrys @eunchaeluvr @inquiryofjades @enpopcandy @his-simp @moronsoyeon @frozenangelheart @inufinuf @kunisbeloved @ieathairs @patimiet @mooonluv @duhsies @herdrops

[fieldsofwriting]

And so, the stars aligned. Pt 5

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: Now in the Spring Court, you arrive at the ball. Fancy dinners, and suitors, await…but where was Azriel?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma. (Brief)

Ageless and Minors DNI

part one, part two, part three, part four.

Masterlist

Requests are open!!

a/n: Before starting!! I based a lot of the balls and stuff off of Bridgerton/ Regency era stuff because, well - that's a lot of what I know! Plus, Prythian seems to be old-fashioned still in that kinda way. Also! You're referred to a 'lean' once. That's most because of how SJM describes the Fae having longer limbs and such. I didn't know a better way to word it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Stepping Foot into the Spring Court was like seeing a real life fairy tale. Lush green grass, stretched for miles. Tree and flowers in full bloom, like they never withered in the first place. Flowers that would have made Elain jealous, blooming along. The air was warm, but a gentle breeze helped keep you cool. It was perfect.

And flying with Arizel was even more perfect. His strong, sturdy arms kept you close. You could feel his strong, powerful wings with every flap. His back tightening and loosening like a well oiled machine. You were jealous of his ability to fly. Especially in lands like these. "Hold on, y/n." His voice was gentle, it was a request. If you didn't hold on, you suspected it make him hold onto you tighter. But you obliged. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you began your descent. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle when Azriel got hit in the face by a petal. The small flower clung to his nose, and you quickly helped him out.

"The flowers like you, Azzy." You tease as he lands gracefully on the ground. He was still holding you as he took a couple steps forward to help ease the impact. Azriel rolled his eyes, but you saw the ghost of a smile. You watched the others land as well, Rhys and Feyre doing so with grace. Cassian and Nesta... a loud thunderous sneeze made their descent less graceful. Cassian tucked Nesta into his wings as they rolled onto the ground. "We're okay!" Cassian said quickly getting up, then helping Nesta with ease. Your oldest sister looked at him with a heavy sigh. "Take the medicine Madja gave you right now." She commands. Cassian pouts as he pulls it out and takes a swig.

Azriel, much to your dismay, gently sets you down. But stays close, his hands hovering over your arms in case you fell. But you give a small reassuring smile to him before you look over to Rhysand. "What now?" Rhys is about to answer when you hear footsteps. Looking over, you spot none other than Tamlin. His smile is gentle, and he looks at Rhys and Feyre with a longing you understood far too well. Rhys pulls Feyre closer as he nods at Tamlin. "You look well, so does your Court." Rhys says cordially. You feel a cooling sensation at your feet, Azriel's shadows. Ready to push you away out of danger at a moment's notice. Reaching behind you, you take his hand to give a squeeze. The small action seems to ease Azriel.

Tamlin nods at Rhys. "It was hard, but now it is flourishing." He says evenly, "I took...advice from your Court." Rhysand seems to be shocked, but not angry at that. He smiles as he nods at the other High Lord.

"I'm glad to be able to see it." Rhys says. His hand still holding Feyre's tightly, trying to keep her calm in the face of her ex. But your sister remains strong, unbothered. Tamlin's attention turns to her, and he gives a small smile. "Feyre. You look well."

"As do you, Tamlin." She says coolly. Tamlin smiles and then clears his throat. "I met your son. Amern and Mor are here - waiting for you, where the Summer Court will be staying. He looks just like Rhys, I'm sorry." And you realize that the High Lord of Spring is trying to joke. It seems to catch everyone off guard, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Rhys chuckles first, "Glad to see you've got your humor back, Tamlin." He says with a smile. Relief washes over Tamlin's face as Rhysand speaks. Then he lets his stunningly emerald eyes land on you. Rhysand had told you, before coming here, not to bow to anyone. You shouldn't be lesser than anyone. Bowing wasn't needed when the High Lord and Lady were your brother-in-law and sister. So you kept your head held high. And swore you could feel Azriel's pride swelling behind you. The hand that still held his received a gentle squeeze.

"And this must be Y/n Archeron." Tamlin greets, putting a hand to his chest and bowing his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He steps forward, and you feel the shadows coil tighter around your ankles, offering his hand. You gingerly place your hand in his as he lifts it and presses a kiss to it. Watching you the whole time. And you can't help but let your cheeks flush.

Until Feyre claws at your mind, showing you images of his temper. You shoot her a glare. "I suppose you lot must be tired after flying here. I'll allow Varian to come get you and escort you back." His eyes land on yours again, giving you a coy smile. "I shall like a dance later at the ball, Y/n Archeron."

Your cheeks heat again at the formality of it all. But you give your head a quick nod. "I shall save room on my dance card for you." You almost swore you could feel Azriel stiffen behind you. The shadows around your ankles growing colder.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Varian arrived shortly after Tamlin left, and brought you back to the nice little manor you'd all be staying in. Little, might have been the wrong word. The floors were oak through each room. The walls were a rich cream color, but didn't lack life. They have paintings of flowers, animals, a waterfall that looked like starlight... The whole bottom floor consisted of an open floor plan, the kitchen tucked away in the back of the house, beautiful marble countertops and dark oak cabinets to match the floors. The couch was a deep green, with an ornate rug underneath it. A few armchairs supplied as well. A long dinner table with enough seating for your party.

The bedrooms were no less ornate as the rest of the house. The master bedroom was located upstairs, all the way back at then end of the hall. Feyre and Rhys had called dips. Then the room next to theirs was claimed by Cassian and Nesta. Amren and Varian got the one across from them. Mor and you would be sharing a room, the one next to Nesta and Cassian. Azriel was across the hall. And as soon as that had been settled, you ran up to your room to get ready. Throwing your bags up on the bed and hastily throwing them open, so your dress for the evening could unwrinkle.

The first evening was about alliance's more than romance. At least, that is how you looked at it. You'd show off what court you were from, maybe have a few dances, and then call it a night. But it didn't matter to you, you were going to a freaking ball! The childlike joy in you had yet to dim in your heart. The dress you chose had a high neckline, akin to a halter top. It covered your cleavage while still hugging them to show them off in a modest way, as Nesta put it. The back remained open. And golden accents lined the edges. From your waist came long layers of tulle decorated with stars, and when you spun it flared slightly. You'd look breathtaking on the dance floor tonight, you just knew it. Your heels were golden to match the accents in the dress as well, Mor had also lent you some jewelry for the evening.

Everything was coming together just perfectly. You had sat and down and started to brush out your hair when a knock sounded. "Come in!" Nesta and Feyre entered. Both of them smiling at you as they accessed what you had laid out. Feyre took the brush from you, gently pulling it through your hair. "You should be careful with Tamlin." The first words out of her mouth made you roll your eyes.

"Feyre, I'm not going to fall madly in love with Tamlin because he was kind. I will be cordial and polite by allowing him a dance and then release him to the public." You assure her, locking eyes with her in the mirror. "I will never forgive that bastard for what he did to you. But I can, make it hard for him to refuse any alliance Rhysand speaks of tonight." Nesta's mouth curls up into a smile as she brings out a box. "You cunning little thing." She says proudly, setting down the makeup she had packed as she starts to help. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Was that your plan all along?" Feyre asks, grimacing when she catches a snarl in your hair. Not that you minded. Where your sisters kept their hair braided and in updo's most of the time. You usually opted for a more natural style. And that, meant your hair got more windswept than normal when flying. But you nod at Feyre. "Of course. Don't get me wrong, if Tarquin offers me a dance, it might be for a little more than just an alliance. But Nesta once told me the ways of balls and polite society. So I will follow it. I'm still looking for love, but again. I'd settle for a boyfriend by the end." You shrug playfully, missing the look your sisters give each other.

"You were little when I told you that." Nesta says wistfully. "It made me miss it. But, I'm glad that those lessons stuck with you at least." She doesn't give you a chance to respond as she starts to lather your face with creams, and other makeup.

By the end. You looked stunning. Your hair had been curled, Nesta braided a crown at the back of your head to keep your hair out of your face but left a few pieces framing it. The dress fit like a glove, and the added height from the heels made your already lean body look even better. Your makeup was stunning. Nesta had dusted a mixture of bronze and gold over your eyelids, and Feyre took a golden face paint-dotting it along your cheeks to help accentuate the freckles you already had. Your lips were a beautiful glossy rose pink.

Your sisters had left you to dress long ago. But you kept staring at yourself in the mirror. Unable to look away, you felt like a princess. There was no way that you wouldn't find a partner tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Meanwhile. "Azriel. Stop spying on her." Cassian chides as he buttons up his shirt. "She's going to be fine. Nesta and Feyre are in there." Azriel glares at him, he had still barely gotten dressed. Shirtless and in nothing but black slacks. His shadows swirling around him, whispering into his ear, 'She looks like a dream.' 'Our mate is beautiful.' 'She'll be able too reach up to our shoulder for sure tonight.' And it was hard to foucus when all they could focus on was you. "Says the one who gets to be with his mate tonight." He grumbles as he grabs his shirt and slips it on. Rhys sighs heavily as he looks at Azriel with a gentle, yet exhausted expression. "Azriel. She's far too excited about this for you to-"

"I won't ruin it." He sighs, buttoning his shirt, but leaving the first one undone. He never liked having that one done. It had felt like he was choking. So that one stayed unbuttoned. He helped Rhys slip on his rather ornate jacket. Black and Gold- to make you. They all had planned it so they'd be able to spot each other easily in the crowds. "She's excited, and I won't take that away from her." Azriel didn't voice his full thought. About how he wished he could have swept you off your feet, heard your vibrant laugh sound through out the ball. Dip you and watch your eyes widen, kiss you under the moonlight... all of it. "If it is any consolation." Rhys's voice snaps Azriel out of his trance. "Feyre just informed me that she has no plans on wooing Tamlin. She knows we want an alliance with him." He chuckles as he buttons his coat. Turning and grabbing Azriel's coat to help him next. That does make him smile, "I knew it. She held my hand behind her back as he spoke. She didn't like him." He confesses.

"Aww! How romantic! She held your hand!" Cassian teases, earning a smack from Azriel. He chuckles, "But that's good, it will help us keep the peace. It's already so delicate."

"She's a smart woman." Rhys pats Az's shoulder to signal he was good. Azriel buttons the suit jacket and nods. "Then again so are all of the Archeron's but-" Rhys shrugs.

"You can say that again." Cassian rolls his eyes and sits with a slight huff. "I'm gonna be on that dance floor all night batting men away with a stick while Nesta dances. And she knows it too!" Rhys and Azriel share a look, before the both mockingly 'aww' at him as he did to Azriel moments earlier.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Everyone had made thier way downstairs to the main entrance. The stairs had a view that went straight up to the landing, making for one grand entrance. And, that was all that was left for you to do. Round the corner and face your family. For whatever reason it made you nervous. Mor had assured you that you looked stunning. Nesta had made you do affirmations in the mirror. Feyre assured you that they were all excited to attend. But anxiety still gnawed at you. "Y/n! You're gonna make us late!" Rhys's voice boomed through the house. With a deep breath, you rounded the corner. Your family looking up at you. Your sisters, all of them- Nesta, Feyre, Mor and Amren looked at you with smiles of varying sizes. Your brother in laws smiled as well, but Cassian let out a low whistle.

"Forget beating boys away from Nesta. We're gonna have to beat them away from you." He compliments, earing a smack on the chest from Nesta. But it was worth it in his opinion when he watched the tension release from your shoulders.

Your eyes found Azriel's. And it was like time slowed, watching as he walked up the steps toward you. He looked beyond handsome in his suit. You couldn't recall the last time you saw him dressed so formally, you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat. You prayed to the Mother to give you strength- if this was how you were reacting to Azriel in a suit? And for a moment, as you gazed at Azriel walking toward you; you hoped that he could kiss you. The thought shocked you, it was probably just the excitement from all of it. But instead, he offered his hand. "You look stunning." He says softly, as if it was only the two of you in the room. "Allow me to escort you to the ball." You didn't hesitate to nod, placing your hand in his. Letting him help you down the steps in your heels. Now you just had to be cunning enough to get a dance with him... ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was, unbelievably beautiful. The marble floors blended seamlessly into the marble walls with accents of gold. Garland of ivy, flowers and other various flora. Chandeliers with faelighting looked as if the celling was crying the most sparkling diamonds. People were dressed so ornately in various colors, like a intermingled rainbow. You squeezed Azriel's arm in awe. He looked down at you, his face remained neutral especially in front of so many people. But you knew that he was silently asking if you were alright. You give him a slight nod. "It's beautiful." You whispers to him, he flexes his arm and you can see his jaw tighten a little as if he was holding back something to say.

And soon, the music had started. The Courts were introduced, Nyx was fawned over by all the other high ladies. You were standing near the refreshment table as you watched Nesta on the dance floor. Moving with Cassian in a fluid, graceful dance. She commanded the dance floor, everyone's eyes were on her. You smiled, knowing the smile that your sister was wearing was a genuine one. But you didn't have much time to focus on her as Tamlin's large build came into your view. Smiling up at him, he reached his hand out. You felt the shadows curl around your ankles again. "Tamlin." You nod at him. "Y/n, would you care to join your sister on the dance floor?" He smiled at you with ease. You set your glass down and took his hand. "I'd love too." And with that, he led you out to the dance floor. His hand on your waist, other one holding your hand up high. And you began to move gracefully around the dance floor. You took note of how the shadows hid in the tulle of your dress. You'd be yelling at Azriel for that later. Tamlin was gentle, but he was definitely leading the dance. Pushing and pulling you around, but he remained polite. "Tell me, y/n. You don't have a mate?" He raises an eyebrow at you. You give him a shrug. He looks amused by your answer waiting for you to elaborate.

"I don't know, truthfully." You said as he spun you, pulling you back in. "I haven't felt the bond with anyone. But that isn't to say that it can't be there."

Tamlin considered your words before he nodded at you. "Do you know what it feels like? Has anyone told you what it is like?" You shook your head. The shadows angrily fluttered around your dress. You made Tamlin spin you again so that you could cover up for them.

"It's been...vague. My sisters don't know how to explain it. They just say I'll know when it happens. That it snaps and they are suddenly your whole word. They say it's as if, the bond is like a string. And at first it's invisible. Until one day it begins to glow golden and the rest is history." You explain what they had told you, the music comes to an end and you take a subtle back from Tamlin. "Join me, for dinner tomorrow." He says quickly. Your eyes widen and you look at him as your mouth tries to form the word no. But you simply just nod. And Tamlin leaves your side, your eyes scan the crowd in a panic. Finding Azriel with Cassian and Rhys in the corner you rushed over, the three of them looking at you with worry. Azriel stepped forward first, taking your hand gently as he pulled you into his side. "Y/n, did something happen?" Rhys asks, his brow furrowed as he watches you. You swallow thickly. "Tamlin asked me to dinner." The others look at each other as if there was a silent conversation happening.

"Okay...and what did you say?" Cassian asks slowly. Azriel wrapped his wing around you, keeping you pressed closely to his chest. You gripped the lapel of his suit jacket. Biting your lip so hard you were worried you'd draw blood.

"...I-I wanted to say no. But, but it was like my body froze up and I just...I nodded!" You rushed out, looking up at Azriel. He tensed, his arm around your waist pressed you closer. But as he looked down at you, he could see the apology brewing in your eyes. So he looked back to Rhys. Rhys hummed and then nodded. "Alright, we can work around this. You'll have a chaperone tomorrow." He says smoothly, giving you a gentle smile. Helping ease you, he looks at Cassian. "Get Nesta. She'll make sure that nothing happens. If he asks, we tell him its a human custom that you insist on abiding by."

Cassian nods, looking back at you and patting your head. "We've got your back, kid. Don't worry." You relax further into Azriel, resting your head on his shoulder as you finally take a deep breath.

"I wanna be there," Azriel speaks up, looking at Rhys. "In the shadows. Incase he tries faebane or anything else again." His voice is tight, pleading almost as he looks at his brother. You gives him a little squeeze. Looking back at Rhys.

"I would feel better about...if Az was there." You speak up. Rhys looks at you and sighs. "Fine. In the shadows. You don't act unless I give orders. Understood?" Rhysand commands, Azriel nods.

You breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't." Azriel says softly, running a hand down your arm. "We shouldn't have left you out there alone. Just seems Tamlin has a type." Rhys snorts at Azriel's comment.

"Why don't you two go dance?" Rhys motions to the dance floor. "The nights young."

Azriel looks down at you, only to be met with your eyes already on his. You nod quickly, as if you knew the question that was on the tip of his tongue. He smiled, letting his wings curl back in and stepping away from you. Bowing in front of you as he offers his hand, reveling in the joyous giggle that sounds from your mouth. Your delicate hand takes hold of his as he leads you to the dance floor.

The same way that Nesta commanded the floor, this time you two did. You felt the eyes of the crowd on you, but none of it mattered. Azriel's hand laid on your waist, your's laid on his shoulder. Hands clasped in a classic waltz. The music guided you two along, no one led the dance. There was a push and pull of equal measure from each of you, moving about the floor as if this was your ballroom. And as the music hit the last swell before it ended, Azriel spun you only to pull you back into a dip. Watching as the lights danced in your eyes, glittered along the fabric of your dress. You looked like a goddess. And Azriel thanked the Mother for giving him such a beautiful mate.

It was safe to say, that for the rest of the night. You were tucked into his side. Safe, and sound. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── a/n: Hehe, this was so much fun to write!! I hope yall liked it!

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 23 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drugs (nothing graphic), descriptive SMUT (pet names and a sprinkle of worship included, beware), fluff and too much flirting to be allowed, some angst, SLOW BURN

words: 19.8k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 23 ► in this open warfare, i won't fight fair, and in your waking moments, i will be there

The next morning, you and Jungkook took Minjun, Luna, and Maggie to a small restaurant—unreasonably far from your hotel in London—to have a late breakfast and to plot. The five of you were a lot more concerned with the latter, and the bacon and egg sandwiches on your plates were relegated to mere decoration.

You had already discussed your plan with Luna and Maggie over the phone last night, but you wanted to meet everyone in person to ensure you were all on the same page, and to inform Jungkook of his role (which was intentionally non-existent).

You believed that the fewer members of Rated Riot got tangled up in Sid’s slimy web, the lower the risk of collateral damage. Ideally, you would have left Jungkook out entirely. But his friendship with Sid made him a linchpin in the machinations of your scheme—he would be the most affected if something went awry.

“This plan relies heavily on the circumstances, I admit,” you said, while your friends feigned interest in their food to avoid the disapproving glances of the restaurant staff. “But maybe that will work to our advantage because we will hardly have to do anything. We will draw the authorities’ attention to Sid, and that’s it. He’ll do the rest himself.”

“Yeah,” Minjun added as your primary accomplice in this scheme. He was busy trying to stop his napkins from blowing away in the fierce wind on the restaurant’s terrace. “And that’s why we need Jude to let us into their hotel room—”

“Wait,” had become Jungkook’s new favourite word. He used it now, too. “And are we sure that Jude won’t change his mind?”

Maggie and Luna turned to you, mirroring Jungkook’s skepticism.

“We’re not,” you admitted. You were aware of the risk, but time has never been more of the essence, and Jude was your best option. “We’re not telling him too much and hoping for the best.”

“And to be honest,” Minjun added, “the fact that she gave him that laundry list of shit to do—”

“Wait,” Jungkook said again. “What list?”

You waved off his question, but Minjun answered on your behalf, clinging to this as if it was the only convincing evidence the five of you had against Jude changing his mind.

“Like, vitamins and stuff,�� he explained. “To ease his withdrawals. I don’t know if he followed her instructions, but anyone could see how much it meant to him, just the fact that she cared enough. Maybe that’ll be what keeps him on our side, even though he’s back with Sid right now.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose in clear disapproval, although you knew she would have reacted the same way if she’d seen Jude—her heart was bigger than her head, bless her.

“He’s done nothing to deserve this from you,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, he—yeah,” Jungkook agreed, the confidence in his voice wavering as he alternated between gratitude for your concern about Jude, and guilt for putting you in this position. “You didn’t have to help him.”

“He’s really not doing well,” you said. “And don’t think I’m so kind, I acted largely out of my own self-interest. We need him for our plan.”

Jungkook recalled Jude’s sneezing, his shivers in forty-degree heat, and his nausea. All of his symptoms always came and went without warning, but the memory of someone going out of their way for him was likely to stay.

“Okay,” Jungkook acquiesced. “That’s—let’s keep going.”

“We won’t need to involve Jude every step of the way, though, right?” Luna clarified. “I mean, I assumed we’d mainly need him to get rid of whatever Sid has in his phone gallery.”

“Yeah, but not just—we’re not just deleting the videos with Jungkook,” you said, glancing at Minjun, who had supported you wholeheartedly when you mentioned this part of the plan to him. He nodded now, too, encouraging you to explain. “We’ll delete everything he has in his Cloud storage and factory reset his phone. I doubt Sid had enough sense to back up his files to an external drive, so this will clear every copy of everything he has on there.”

Maggie’s eyes finally lit up with lively excitement, Luna nodded in agreement, and you felt a smile forming on your own lips, too.

Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared almost disappointed.

“W-we don’t have to go through all of this just to delete those videos,” he said, fixing his gaze on his untouched cup of matcha latte; the artwork on the surface had begun to blur. “Those things happened. I did all of that shit, and Sid recorded it. That’s who I was back then, and maybe I shouldn’t try to—”

You interrupted his words—the ones you’d already heard before—with a gentle touch of your hand over his restless fingers, and Jungkook stilled, turning to you.

“No, those videos are not who you are. You are the one who decides who you are,” you reiterated once more and the table fell silent around you as if everyone had witnessed something they were not supposed to. “And if you want to leave those things in the past, you should be able to. Sid has no right to bring it up now.”

“But if we lock Sid up,” he persisted, “then maybe those videos won’t matter anyway.”

“He could publish them,” Minjun countered. “He sent them directly to you now, but he could post them publicly later. I’m sure he’d find a way to do that even behind bars.”

Jungkook felt a rush of dizziness and he was very grateful that you’d pressed your hand on his. Minjun was right. Sid had done something like this before when he’d posted your picture; he clearly wasn’t above making private matters public.

“We would leave the videos be, let Sid have them, whatever,” you continued, reading the colour on his face, “but he wants to use them against you. He’s cutting them up to paint you as an irresponsible asshole. And you’re not an asshole, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “And I talked to Jude about an hour ago. He sounded sober, which is shocking to me, but, anyway—Sid has plans to go out tonight, so Jude should be able to do this tomorrow morning while Sid’s still passed out.”

The whole terrace of the restaurant seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as soon as he said that, the clink of cutlery and the muffled chatter around you growing tense.

Jungkook, even dizzier now, turned back to you once more. You gave him a small nod.

He took a breath and nodded back. “Okay. Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”

“Good!” Maggie cheered from across the table. She turned to Jungkook, and you watched as her reassuring tone chased the last doubts from his eyes. “Even without those videos, we need to do this to get back at Sid. And I know this will do just that. I’d be tearing my hair out if someone cleansed my Cloud.”

You noticed that Maggie was much more vigilant with her phone today, hardly letting it out of her sight. She’d improved her security measures and had to enter her passcode every time she wanted to reply to a text today, because the facial recognition struggled to recognise the wind in her hair. This was the reason she hadn’t bothered with it before, but Sid had taught her a valuable lesson.

You gave your friend an agreeing nod and settled against the back of your chair.

Luna sat on your other side, leaning her elbows on the table, and she quickly noted the way Jungkook’s eyes widened when you pulled back, as if you had torn off a piece of his skin. She glanced at Maggie, who noticed nothing and kept checking the time on her phone as if she was late for another meeting to plan someone’s arrest.

Somewhat disappointed, Luna turned back to you, her grin doubling in size to compensate for her lack of company in teasing you.

“One big problem,” you said, focused on the intricacies of your plan and, therefore, unaware of your surroundings, “lies in our next steps. If we manage to get Sid arrested, he will likely weaponise his friendship with Jungkook. He’ll try to make it seem like they’re as close as brothers, and if he’s going to jail for meth possession, then Jungkook is probably doing drugs, too.”

You pulled your phone out from your bag and allowed for the weight of your words to settle on the table like a heavy grey tablecloth while you opened your gallery.

“So, this morning,” you continued, “Maggie and I put something together. This is a list of people who are banned from Rated Riot’s shows.”

You passed your phone to Luna first. She looked at the screen, nodded, and handed the phone to Maggie, who smiled to herself right away—she had designed the layout of the list and was very pleased with it.

By the time your phone reached Jungkook, he was already squirming in his chair. As he examined the list of names, displayed in bold white letters on a black background with a crumpled paper texture that Maggie had crafted and digitalised herself, he realised that the only name he recognised was Sid’s.

He looked up. “But if you post that—that’s—isn’t it supposed to be confidential?”

“I won’t post it,” you said. “We’ll leak it.”

“Oh.” A gleam of affection suddenly sparkled in his eyes. He felt a little like he’d just met you for the first time, all over again. “Can we do that?

Maggie reached across the table, snatching your phone from Jungkook’s hand to see the picture of the list again. She scrutinised the names for a minute as if trying to uncover the social security numbers of the people listed.

“No,” you replied. “But Sid never played fair, so we’re simply levelling the playing field. The other names on the list are made up anyway. They’re generic enough to match someone on Facebook, but no one will know which person is on this list.”

“But they’ll recognise Sid,” Maggie pointed out, squinting at your phone. “Even though he’s listed as Isidore here. Right?”

“That’s him, yeah,” you confirmed. “And you’re right. Everyone will recognise Sid. We’ll leak this before he gets arrested, and anything he says after that will just be taken as blatant slander.”

Jungkook took another deep breath and glanced at your phone, which Maggie slid towards you across the table. It bumped against the corner of your empty water glass.

“Won’t there be consequences if something else leaks?” he asked, his teeth grazing his bottom lip.

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” you admitted. “But then, Luna texted me a brilliant idea last night.”

You gestured towards your friend, and she continued.

“It’ll be accidental,” she explained. “Maggie usually posts backstage pictures on her Instagram. She has almost as many followers as the main account of your band at this point. So, later today, she will post a new set of pictures, and this list of names will just happen to be visible in some shots. Just a coincidence, really. And then we hope that one of your fans will notice it, zoom in, catch Sid’s name, and share it.”

Jungkook looked down, nodding to himself. He realised that Sid stood little chance against the collective resolve of everyone at this table.

“They will notice it,” he said. “I don’t doubt it.”

“We’ll have to rely on them to spread this,” you added. “Even though this list isn’t really something we need to hide. It’s just, you know, sort of customary in the industry to keep your dirty laundry to yourself.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said, sensing the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. He had the feeling that everyone was waiting for his final approval to move forward with this plan. “So, uh, Maggie won’t get into trouble for posting it?”

“Hmm?” Maggie looked up from her phone at the sound of her name. “Oh. No. I’m the photographer. As long as I get good shots, I never get in trouble. And this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a picture that reveals more than I intended.”

She gave you a sheepish look, and you shook your head, sensing where the guilt in her eyes stemmed from. Maggie knew that Sid was behind the chaos caused by the bathtub picture, but she still felt a gnawing sense of responsibility because she was the one who had taken the picture.

“Alright. You, uh—you guys really put a lot of thought into this,” Jungkook remarked, looking at you first, then at your friends, and finally at Minjun on his other side. “I’m, uh—I-I’m actually a little afraid of you.”

Luna and Minjun snickered—Maggie was back on her phone, but she was smiling, too—and their excitement made you feel much more optimistic.

“Good,” you said, reaching out to touch Jungkook’s hand again. He immediately turned his hand round and firmly clasped yours—to ensure you wouldn’t pull away this time. “Sid should be, too.”

A tense silence settled over the table, punctuated by the subdued conversations on the terrace.

For the first time since you arrived at the restaurant, Jungkook finally took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter and lukewarm. You refrained from touching yours, but accepted a bite of Luna’s tiramisu. Everyone else at the table seemed to remember simultaneously that they had ordered food when they got here.

“Uh,” Maggie spoke up after a second, still chewing on the brown crust of her bacon and egg tart. “Is this a safe space for us to voice our, uh, concerns?”

You straightened in your seat, bracing yourself before she’s even said anything. Jungkook sensed your growing anxiety and squeezed your hand.

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Okay.” Maggie swallowed and set down her fork after taking exactly one and a half bites. “Well, I’m worried that Sid will say something provocative and one of us will end up getting arrested for assault.”

There was something absurdly comical in her question—or the potential outcome it suggested—and you could see Minjun quickly lower his head to conceal his broad smile.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was extremely pleased that no one turned to look at him, the person who had, more or less, already assaulted Sid before. It comforted him to know that everyone here would have loved to smack Sid upright in the head, too.

“That’s a great point,” you said, clearing your throat. “If he provokes you—well, then you might have a legitimate reason to, uh, land a good punch. You probably wouldn’t be held in custody too long for that. There’s no premeditation, you acted on impulse because of something he said.”

Minjun raised an eyebrow at you from across the table.

“I thought our focus was drug laws,” he said. “Did you research assault, too?”

“I researched assault laws the day I met Sid,” you deadpanned.

He snorted. “Yeah, fair enough.”

“Not to mention, we can always argue it’s self-defence,” Luna added, prodding her sandwich with a toothpick as if it were a not-quite-dead bug. “Sid is very—let’s say, aggressive.”

“That’s true,” Minjun agreed. “Especially when he’s irritated.”

The energy around the table had increased considerably; everyone seemed to have something to say about possible reasons to hit Sid. Maggie was already listing five ways to throw a punch that would knock out your opponent—she had a WikiHow article open and was illustrating it with enthusiastic demonstrations on Minjun.

You realised, quite suddenly, how happy you were to sit here with your friends. They were smart and cunning enough to rob a bank, escape a prison, and start a money laundering scheme all in a week, but they chose to be sweet and loving and a little vengeful instead. You felt almost giddy.

“He wouldn’t throw the first punch, though,” Jungkook interjected with a hint of frustrated sorrow. Maggie halted her research, retracting her fist from Minjun’s cheek. “He’ll just keep running his mouth until you strike him. And he’ll make sure the provocation is very minimal.”

“Well, sure, but who at this table will attest to any of that?” Luna questioned, undeterred. “Everyone who witnessed Sid throwing the first punch, raise your hands.”

All of you raised your hands in perfect synchronisation, and Jungkook felt himself smile again.

He had never doubted the success of your plan, even if he doubted the details. But sitting here now, while all of you held your hands up, he was fully convinced that this meeting marked the beginning of the end for Sid.

“Right. Okay,” he said. “I like how this is looking.”

“Me too,” Maggie said, locking her phone and slouching in her chair. “I feel better now. Didn’t want to spend the night at the police station.”

“You wouldn’t,” Luna assured her. “We’d bail you out.”

She snickered. “That’s good to—”

Jungkook suddenly jumped up in his chair, interrupting her.

“What about Sid’s bail?” he asked urgently. “Can he—could he pay for his release?”

Everyone at the table turned to you once more. When you and Minjun did your research yesterday, your focus had quickly turned from penalties to potential loopholes that Sid might use with his money, so you understood their sudden concern.

“No,” you said. “Apparently, it doesn’t work like that here. They would give him bail automatically; he wouldn’t have to pay. But they need to charge him with a specific offence first, and they won’t know the exact charges until they know what, uh, substances he was carrying on him and keeping in his hotel room—oh, and how much. Not to mention, bail may be denied if there is a risk that he’ll commit further crimes. And we know Sid is violent. He will not sit idly in his little cell.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “We’re 95% sure he won’t be given bail.”

You nodded, grateful for his confidence.

“So, we definitely won’t be in London by the time they charge him,” Maggie concluded, frowning. She regretted not ordering whiskey instead of espresso; alcohol helped her think.

“Definitely not,” you confirmed. “Our plan concludes with Sid’s arrest, everything else is not our problem anymore. And we’re only participating in this as the staff of Rated Riot, so the only people who will have to speak to the police are those who will be present when they arrive at the venue tomorrow. So, ideally, only Luna, Mick, and me. That’s it. That’s as far as we’re getting involved.”

“Wait,” Jungkook said. He understood the need for Mick’s presence and felt comforted that you’d have someone from security with you, but now he was worried about your friend. “Why Luna?”

“We need an additional witness to observe Sid’s erratic behaviour,” Luna explained. “We thought it’d be better to have someone random, and not just your manager and head of security there.”

Jungkook kept his gaze on hers. “How do you know he’ll behave erratically?”

She gave him a look.

“Right.” He leaned back in his seat. “Good point. Okay.”

He already knew that the odds were good that Sid would try to provoke you tomorrow, but now he realised that even if Sid suddenly decided to be docile, it wouldn’t matter. The five of you were tight as a glove—Sid could sit in a corner, purring and meowing, and you would all collectively claim that he was threatening you.

Finally, Jungkook realised that he had narrowly escaped something dreadful, and he felt very grateful to find himself at this table, and not on the other side of this plan.

“I, uh—this isn’t a concern exactly,” you said after a minute. “But I have to say that a lot of this hinges on Sid trusting my word, and I’m—well, I’m not sure if he’ll care about anything I tell him.”

Minjun looked almost offended. He was the one who devised this strategy after you told him that you needed a way to quickly draw the attention of the authorities to Sid.

Why don’t you call him? Minjun had suggested. And invite him to meet you.

You had thought he’d decided to go insane right before talking to you. But you’d kept your suspicions to yourself because, ultimately, calling Sid seemed like the only option. It felt unfair, however, not to mention your doubts now.

“Actually, I agree,” Jungkook said, giving you a long look. “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with any of that. You’ll have to be alone in a room with Sid. And we can’t be sure that he won’t—”

“Sid will care,” Minjun asserted, ignoring everything Jungkook had said. He kept his gaze on you, his certainty almost as intimidating as it was comforting. “Maybe not because he has feelings for you, but because you’re Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

Maggie looked up from her phone, surprised about the possibility of Sid having any feelings at all, and turned to Luna. The two of them finally exchanged the look that Luna had been waiting for.

“And you’re okay with doing this?” Jungkook asked you, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. He was careful not to miss any hint of dishonesty.

“I’m okay if this actually works,” you said. “If Sid shows up. If we get him arrested. I’m willing to try this if you’re all sure that we’ll succeed. And I wouldn’t be all by myself anyway.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that part,” Maggie said to Jungkook, rolling up her sleeves for emphasis. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be at the scene tomorrow, but she felt she had a personal debt to settle with Sid, so she would find a way to interfere if she had to. “I can fight.”

Jungkook looked at her in a way that was more amused than it was skeptical—Maggie was very small in size, but very big in energy—and she tried to flex her arms to prove her point.

“I believe you,” he said, a smile breaking through his uncertainty. “I just don’t like that this will all be happening during our show. I won’t be there with you.”

“That’s just the plan,” you said. “We need to keep you away from him so that anything he says later won’t carry any weight. He’s obsessed with you and he has problems, and you’ve been distancing yourself from him for some time now. We’ll release an official statement about your, uh, separation once we’re done with him. And the leaked blacklist will back up our claims.”

A resigned acceptance clouded Jungkook’s features: he understood that this was the right decision, but he couldn’t help feeling unhappy about it. However, although he would have typically complained and whined about this—and you expected him to—now his posture was stoic.

You felt a little dispirited. You knew you wouldn’t joke around much today, but Jungkook’s unusually serious demeanour emphasised the gravity of the situation even more.

“Okay,” Minjun said. “Any other concerns?”

You shifted your gaze to him.

“Actually, I have another one,” you said. “I’m also worried about how this will affect your parents.”

The two girls beside you exchanged another glance—you hadn’t explained Minjun’s family’s dependence on Sid’s mother yet.

“If Sid’s in prison?” Minjun asked, unperturbed. “Well, their stocks will probably drop, so it will be weird to throw a party. I think we’ll celebrate quietly.”

You glanced at Jungkook, and he met your eye with an amused grin.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked Minjun then.

“Are you kidding?” Minjun looked optimistic and upbeat. He seemed ready to take on the world, and locking up Sid was just the first step. “We should have done this years ago.”

Maggie suddenly slammed her palm on the table, forcing everyone’s coffee cups to rattle against the plates.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed, and her excitement quickly spread to the rest of the table.

“I agree,” Luna added, much quieter. “But maybe it’s time we headed out. The people at the next table are whispering and, uh, pointing at Jungkook.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and turned to you instead of looking around, his expression filled with a shocked wonder. He had only been recognised in public a handful of times since Rated Riot started out, and each instance had left an indelible mark on him.

You gave him a smile and a nod that spurred him out of his chair and towards the people at the neighbouring table, all of whom held their breaths when he stood up.

You glanced back at your friends—all smiling as they watched Jungkook introduce himself and singlehandedly cut off the air supply of four different people—and you thought about how wonderful it would have been if you had met Maggie and Luna earlier. If Jungkook and Minjun had stopped entertaining Sid’s whims sooner. If you and Jungkook had never broken up at all.

Perhaps, you thought, there was an alternative universe where you’d known and loved these people your whole life. You felt very close to that universe now.

Just as you finished your breakfast—where the five of you consumed one cup of coffee and half a slice of tiramisu in total—you executed the first step of your plan and sent a text message to Sid. It was innocuous, just a conversational, “are you ever going to stop doing this?” but it was meant to serve as a subtle precursor—so as not to approach him out of the blue tomorrow.

Then, as the five of you exited the restaurant, Maggie got enthralled by the most gracious little corgi sitting at a table, and dragged Luna and Minjun (who looked like he was not sure what was happening) back inside to ask for pictures. You and Jungkook opted for a scenic route back to the hotel instead.

Although the day was overcast, the sky did not look particularly ominous, offering instead an unexpected serenity that you thought you could use to clear your thoughts.

Interestingly, fresh air was not what you really needed at all. It was his hand holding yours as you strolled past extravagant hotels and expensive restaurants near Hyde Park, weaving through crowds of rushing tourists and cranky locals.

You felt significantly lighter with your hand in his, but Jungkook still appeared troubled. The shadows on his face were far more pronounced than those in the sky.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked.

He let out a weary sigh as he met your gaze. He seemed overwhelmed—as though his head was trying very hard to grow twice as large to contain all his thoughts, while the rest of his body fought desperately to resist the growth.

“I—well, I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone,” he started slowly, “but I’m worried about you.”

“Me?” You frowned. “Wh—because of Sid?”

“Because you’re doing all of this on top of your other responsibilities,” he said. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

Your expression visibly softened, but dark edges of guilt still coated the appreciation in your eyes. You felt disappointed in yourself—for letting it get so far that, over a week later, Jungkook still sometimes looked at you as though you might faint any second.

“That won’t happen,” you replied, your tone gentle, but determined. “I promise. And I’m not alone. I have so much help. And this won’t—it’s just a few days. We deal with it tomorrow, and it’s over.”

“Okay. But what if it’s not?” he questioned then. “We’re heading to Paris right after we, potentially, deal with Sid. And what if it doesn’t work, and we’re not here to fix it?”

You had to admit, this same possibility had been weighing on your mind ever since Jude first mentioned the bags of drugs in Sid’s hotel room. However, as soon as you saw Jungkook’s solemn features, you found yourself resisting all these worries. You would figure it out, no matter what happened, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Then it won’t work.”

“He’ll be furious,” Jungkook said. “Even more vindictive than before.”

“I know,” you replied. “But no matter what he decides to do, we won’t back down, either.”

Jungkook frowned so deeply that several new wrinkles declared permanent residence between his brows. He dreaded the idea of spending a lifetime seeking revenge.

You sensed the reason for his apprehension—you wanted this over quickly, too—and instinctively squeezed his hand.

“I’m with you,” you said, reaching for your phone to check if Sid had reacted to your text. “And I told you, I’m not entirely convinced that this will work, either. I mean, here, look. Sid hasn’t replied. But if this plan falls through, we’ll come up with something else. Maybe something—well, less grand.”

He glanced at your phone, toying with his lip ring between his teeth. The prospect of failure felt more daunting with each second that Sid remained free to do whatever he pleased.

Jungkook didn’t want to do something else. He wanted this to work.

“Maybe he hasn’t replied because Jude deleted everything,” he suggested, searching for a plausible explanation that aligned with your plan. “Including the texts.”

“No, that’s tomorrow,” you reminded him. He groaned. “We need—Sid needs to notice my texts first. Then we delete them. I’ll use a disposable SIM card tomorrow, so there’s no trace that I ever contacted him.”

Jungkook felt like his head had already grown far too large for his body. He was a bit unsteady on his feet and clutched your hand tighter.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. That—yeah, no.” He lifted your intertwined hands to scratch something at his forehead. “My head is spinning. I can’t remember that much.”

You gave him a sympathetic nod. “That’s fine.”

“I’m not saying that I’d be too dumb to follow a plan like this,” he felt the need to insist.

“I didn’t think that.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued. “There’s a lot.”

You nodded in exaggerated agreement again. “Mhmm.”

His eagerness to prove his intelligence to you was very endearing. But it was a little funny, too, and Jungkook stopped walking to study your expression more closely. After a moment, he came to an appalling conclusion.

“You think I’m dumb,” he said.

A wide smile finally broke out on your face. “I think you’re very pretty.”

“Very pr—okay.” His expression shifted as you laughed, pulling on his hand to continue walking after an elderly couple gave you a rather well-deserved disapproving look for blocking their path. “Pretty and dumb. Is that your type?”

“It is,” you said, grinning. “That’s why you’re the only boyfriend I’ve had.”

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh—wow. Wow. I am both very flattered and very offended.”

You chuckled, gently pushing his shoulder with yours. Jungkook shook his head and finally smiled, too. But right as he prepared to say something else, he ended up having to quickly yank your hand, pulling you into him and out of the way of an oncoming bicycle.

“Shit,” you were breathless against his chest as the bike drove past, your hair whipping forcefully in the wind, “thank you.”

“Pretty and dumb,” he said, allowing you to take a step away from him now that the danger has passed, “but with great reflexes, huh?”

You laughed again, leaning into him when you did and successfully dissolving everything sharp and uncomfortable in his chest.

“I know you’re not dumb,” you said. “And let’s be realistic: Minjun and I had been simmering in the details of this plan for days. You just barely learned about it a few hours ago. We’ve got this. I wanted you to know what we’ll do, but I don’t want you to be involved at all.”

“Yeah. I—no, I just…” he faltered, weighing his next words. The thought of everything that would happen tomorrow made his stomach feel very heavy. “I feel like you’re trying to protect me from Sid by keeping me out of this, and I’m—I don’t know how that makes me feel.”

“We’re not just keeping you out, we’re keeping the whole band out,” you said. “I want to protect all four of you. And if anything, you’re the only member who isn’t entirely excluded. Does that… make it any better?”

Jungkook considered this for a moment.

“Not sure,” he said. “Because I’m still not participating.”

Exhaling softly, you looked around, searching for a quiet spot on the pavement where the two of you could step away from the crowd. Nearby, there were two traditional phone booths that tourists were gathered around, obstructing your view. Once you passed them, you noticed a parking meter right by the park gate that everyone seemed to avoid. You decided to pause there.

Jungkook glanced around before stopping in front of you, slightly unsettled by the large, dark green hedge covering the park fence, and all the bugs that emerged from it—bees, mostly. They all seemed very curious about him.

“Okay, look at it this way,” you began. “Sid has known you and Minjun since you were kids. He knows all your weak points. He can predict exactly how you and Minjun will react in any situation. Sure, you took him off guard when you gave up your Katana, but he can still read you very well. He doesn’t have that luxury with me, Luna, or Maggie. He’s less certain about our reactions. Who else could do this if not us?”

“Right,” Jungkook murmured. “But you’re still going out of your way for me, and I feel—”

“And why wouldn’t I?” you interrupted. “I love you.”

He thought he died for just a second and it felt surprisingly nice: he could feel something soft and warm against his skin—the phantom shivers of every time you’ve touched him before—and he could taste a sweet, lingering flavour on his tongue—from every time he felt your mouth against his own.

He would never tire of hearing you say you loved him. The only downside was that his chest usually attempted to collapse in on itself right after that, leaving him speechless for anywhere from a minute to several days.

“Not to mention,” you continued while Jungkook fought against the haze in his mind and the bumblebees around his neck. “Sid has long stopped at just you. With the videos and pictures he’s sending you, he’s threatening everyone on this tour. Anything that affects your reputation, affects the band and the staff, too. So, when you look at it like that, we’re really doing this for everyone.”

Finally, Jungkook managed to stop his thoughts from pulling him in every direction and anchored himself to this pavement right here—with you, and the persistent bugs, and the chattering of people as they walked past you.

He squeezed your hand that he had not let go—not now, and probably not ever, really—and exhaled.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But I was the one who brought him here, and that’s—I guess that’s what’s bothering me right now.”

“You did bring him here,” you agreed.

“I—oh.” He looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. He had expected something else. An ‘I told you that was a shit decision’ or a sarcastic ‘yeah, and thanks for that’—but your kind expression did not change. “Y-yeah. I did.”

“But we’ll get him out,” you said.

Jungkook held your hand and observed you, trying to process this while simultaneously trying to figure out what was it about him that attracted these British bees to him so much. It couldn’t be his cologne, because you loved him far more than he’d allowed himself to believe. It couldn’t be his clothes, either, because you were looking at him like you believed anything was possible in this world, and he thought it really was.

He realised that to you, he must have appeared as if he were struggling to interpret prehistoric cave wall paintings, and this process was causing him immense pain. He cleared his throat.

“You don’t blame me?” he asked.

“For making a stupid decision?” you replied, and shrugged your shoulders after he nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He pressed his lips together, his expression a mixture of incredulity and pure delight.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

You were smiling again, and he was a little too proud to admit how much your loving eyes and your great mood soothed his anxiety.

“And what would I gain from punishing you?” you added. “You’ve already seen through Sid. You’ve had enough. You learned your lesson. You’re good.”

Jungkook felt his chest swell as though he’d swallowed the swarms of bees around him, and now they’ve built a cosy little home right on the hills of his heart.

“You think so?” he asked, his eyes glistening.

“Why do you look so excited?” you countered. “Do you have more dickhead friends I haven’t met yet?”

He chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “Can I answer that inside the park? I’m afraid these bees are in love with me.”

You had already noticed his struggle with the bees—it was hard not to, one was perched right on his shoulder—and you found your own apparent immunity to this new bee predicament especially entertaining.

“Want me to fight them for you?” you suggested.

“Oh, in a battle of who loves me more?” he quipped, swatting vigorously at three stubborn bees that were particularly intrigued in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll all sting you at the same time, and whoever dies first, wins.”

He snorted. “These are bumblebees. They don’t die after they sting.”

“Oh, so maybe we should just stay here,” you teased. “You all seem to know quite a bit about each other already.”

He squinted at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you jealous I’ve grown so close to these bees?”

“Of course. They’re all over you.”

“I’d rather have you all over—”

“Public park!” you interjected hastily, cutting him off.

His laughter in response was unapologetic and infectious—you found yourself shaking your head to suppress a treacherous smile.

“Did you also research public indecency laws?” he asked, turning past the menacing, bee-infested hedge.

You followed him through the gates into the park, your fingers intertwined with his. The clouds above had thickened, and the wind had picked up, but there was nothing about this afternoon that Jungkook did not enjoy.

“Actually, I did,” you replied. “Because of that stunt you pulled in New York last year.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes for just a fleeting moment before he pursed his lips, distancing himself from the memory. A gentle breeze swept through the park, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of damp earth; it would rain soon.

“I don’t remember,” he declared.

“Really?” you responded wryly. You both knew very well that he remembered. “Nothing familiar to you about the busking that turned into half-naked dancing in the middle of the street?”

“Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“There was a lot more grinding than actual dancing, now that I think about it,” you pressed on. You noticed, through your peripherals, the way he scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, evidently despising the memory he claimed he did not have. “Someone had drawn a crown of thorns on your forehead. You had a—sort of a cloth wrapped around your waist, and nothing else. Almost everyone on the face of the earth accused you of being in a sex cult after those pictures came out.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he insisted. “They must have confused me with someone else.”

“Sure. They must have,” you relented, pouting your lips in mock-sympathy. “There are plenty of people in sex cults out there.”

“Exactly,” he replied, finally meeting your eyes.

Something about you bringing up this incident—“incidents” were a prominent category of his actions in his mind—reminded him of the videos Sid had sent him. However, with you, the feelings in his chest were vastly different.

You were playful. Lighthearted. Your love language was teasing the hell out of him.

Sid was venomous. Arrogant. Vile. His intentions were humiliation and destruction.

You were joking about a matter for which Jungkook undoubtedly owed you another apology. He could tell that you knew he would apologise eventually, but you were hoping—with every jest, every tender smile, every affectionate bite you sent his way—that he would not plunge himself into self-loathing again.

He wouldn’t. He had matured significantly since the day under discussion. He knew he had, even if it was easy to forget.

“I’m surprised how well you remember all that, actually,” he commented. “Are you secretly into sexual rituals?”

Your scoff returned his smile to his face.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I keep a picture of you from that day on my desk at home. I look at it every night before I fall asleep.”

Jungkook kicked a few dry, scattered leaves on the pavement. When he glanced back at you, his grin bordered on ridiculous.

“I am aware that you’re trying to mock me right now,” he said, “but I feel obligated to inform you that I’m taking absolutely everything you say as a compliment.”

You nodded sagely. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

“Good,” he replied. “Please tell me more about how you look at pictures of me before you fall asleep every night.”

You tsked reproachfully at his grin.

“I take back what I said about you being smart,” you said. “You are the biggest idiot I’ve met.”

“Oh,” his face was jubilant, “but that just means you love me that much more, right?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid so.”

He felt the swarms of bees in his chest, and they were buzzing incessantly—eager, restless, and yearning. They took every emotion he felt and spread them across his skin.

“I knew it,” he said, delighted by the look on your face. You were so captivating when you were trying to resist smiling; it was why he never stopped teasing you. “This must be awful for you.”

“Mmhm. It is,” you said. “You’re like a disease.”

He nodded, attempting a formal tone. “How bad is it?”

“Chronic and untreatable, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

A deep, vibrant laughter finally erupted from his chest, and he stopped walking. Tugging on your linked hands, he drew you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist before you could say another word.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low against your neck. “It’s not even funny how much.”

He rocked gently on his feet with you in his arms, and you could not tell if the vibrations you felt came from his chest or yours.

“More than the bees love you?” you asked, your hands sliding over his shoulders.

“Much more than the bees love me.”

“Oh, must be quite a lot, then.”

“It is,” he said, chuckling hopelessly. “It really fucking is.”

He tightened his already firm grip until he felt your deep exhale against the side of his neck. He held you and his heartbeat chased after yours while the bustling crowds, the rustling leaves, and the solemn park benches whispered incomprehensibly around you, their frustration about your public affection lost on you.

When he pulled away a minute—or ten—later, he realised that his cologne had brushed off on you. There was something wildly intoxicating about you smelling exactly like him, and he needed a minute to make the park stop spinning.

“I, um—” he started to say, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat, took your hand in his to continue down the park, and tried again. “Jokes aside, I feel—I really appreciate what you do for me. What you’re doing to fix my shit right now, and what you—what you’ve always done to fix my shit. I don’t say that enough. Thank you. For taking care of Sid, too.”

You shook your head. You knew you couldn’t tackle Sid alone—probably no one could.

“This is a team effort,” you replied. “If this works, you can bake us all a cake later.”

Jungkook no longer had even half of a doubt that this would work, one way or the other. And if he’d stayed with you longer, he would have easily started to believe that Rated Riot would be elected presidents, too—one after the other.

“I’m not much of a baker,” he said.

“I’ll help,” you offered.

“Your help,” he responded, his smile turning mischievous, “usually consists of walking around, eating chocolate sprinkles, and distracting me.”

It was your turn to look offended.

“I’m the only one who remembers how many eggs the recipe needs,” you retorted, dignified. “How do I distract you?”

“How can I remember the eggs when you’re dancing and singing around me?” he countered.

He noticed the way your chin quivered as you fought to maintain a serious expression.

“Well, that’s on you,” you said. “Any skilled chef knows to keep their staff busy so they wouldn’t have time to sing and dance. Also, don’t play good songs when we’re in the kitchen.”

“Alright, we’ll bake in silence,” he decided. “And you’ll do everything while I sit and order you around.”

The corners of your lips finally curled into a smirk.

“That’s interesting,” you said, your thumb lightly brushing over his as he swayed your hands. “Switching up the dynamics.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, very intrigued by the insinuation in your words. “You want me to order you around?”

“I mean…” You shrugged. “I’d like to see you try.”

He stopped walking suddenly, right in the midst of a group of senior ladies, forcing a few of them to gasp and walk around him with very exaggerated expressions of disbelief as though they’d never felt more wronged (there were a few obligatory comments about “kids these days,” too, of course).

Jungkook, undeterred, took a step to the right until he was standing in front of you.

“Kiss me,” he said.

The demand in his tone caught you off guard, but you tried to blink away your surprise. “I didn’t mean right now—”

“Kiss me,” he repeated more assertively.

You felt your stomach lighten and go for a little float inside you, like a loose helium-filled balloon.

“We are in the middle of a busy park,” you said, looking around. “We’re blocking—”

“Kiss me,” he interrupted again, his voice firm but lively, “or I won’t move.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, torn between amusement and apprehension as you battled his self-assured grin, while passersby shot disapproving glances at the two of you.

“See, there’s ordering people around,” you said, “and there’s acting like a three-year-old.”

He simply shrugged, relentless. “I see no difference.”

“Do I sound like a toddler when I tell you to do things?”

“Sometimes.”

His satisfied grin only gained prominence when you scoffed and looked away, rolling your eyes.

You questioned, sometimes, how you managed to put up with him for so long. But then you also questioned, much more often, how you’d survived without him at all.

“If I were a teacher,” you said, “you’d be in detention for disrupting everyone’s day.”

“Oh! And what would I have to do?” he teased, mischief gleaming proudly in his eyes. “Write an essay on the importance of respecting authority?”

“That might do you good, actually,” you retorted. “Maybe you should consider writing it anyway.”

He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side. “Kiss me and I’ll do it.”

He looked so utterly unfazed that you did feel very compelled to lay your hands on him and do something.

He might have been one of the most exasperating people you’ve met in your life, always ready to say something cheeky no matter what you told him, always causing trouble wherever he went, never letting you breathe in peace for just one second.

You were outrageously grateful to have found him.

“People are staring at us,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. “We look like idiots.”

Jungkook admired your cautiousness, but he wanted you to let go of it. People would always stare; he just wanted you to kiss him.

“They’re staring because you’re defying authority,” he countered easily.

“Jungkook, just—”

“Oh, see?” he cut in, his tone triumphant. “Maybe you should be the one to write that essay.”

You groaned very demonstratively, but he saw the corners of your lips lift. Finally, you took a small step towards him and pressed your lips to his in a quick peck. He pulled you into him just as you attempted to pull away, and kissed you properly.

At last, the crowds disappeared, allowing you to dissolve in the warmth of his lips and come back to life with all the shivers that ran down your spine when he touched the back of your neck. You felt his smile and felt your own, too, when he brought his tongue over yours, deepening the kiss.

“You are insufferable,” you managed to mumble between kisses, and the affection in your voice was impossible to mistake for something else.

“I love you,” he whispered in response, each word sweet and sugary against your lips.

You kissed him once more—to soothe your racing heart—and then once more again—to soothe his—before you pulled away, whispering back, “I love you.”

Jungkook only managed half of a pleased “I—” before he felt a few soft, cold droplets land on his forehead and both of his cheeks. He raised his head.

“Is it me, or is it—”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, looking up at the angry clouds. “It’s raining.”

“Do you—should we go inside?” he asked, looking around.

There was no specific “inside” anywhere close to the two of you, but you looked at him again and spotted something at the very edge of the park behind him, right across a busy bike lane.

“There’s a little gazebo over there,” you suggested, pointing.

Jungkook turned around and seemed to have an epiphany when he noticed the crooked structure.

“In the—in the park,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little weak in the knees. He took your hand in his again. “Let’s go.”

He led you straight into the bicycle traffic as he crossed the road, causing a commotion and undoubtedly endangering everyone’s lives—and not even realising it in his eagerness to get to the gazebo. You attempted to raise your hand in apology to the cyclists, but quickly realised that the smile on your face likely made the gesture seem mocking.

It occurred to you that you and Jungkook were being very disruptive today, very annoying, very much in everyone’s faces about your relationship. And you realised, as he pulled you past the groups of people running from the rain, that you did not actually mind this all that much. Or at all.

There was a certain beauty in the unapologetic way that people in love behaved in public—grinning at their phones, kissing at bus stops, holding hands on narrow streets barely wide enough for one person. Running across the park in the rain and stumbling into every puddle possible.

When you and Jungkook finally reached the gazebo, you were both drenched and breathless. And you realised, belatedly, that it was not a suitable shelter at all: there were no railings or benches, the roof was not only crooked, but obviously decaying, and the rain splattered you if you got too close to the edge.

But you’d been here before: caught in the rain on your way to the restaurant for your first date seven years ago, seeking refuge under a much sturdier roof of a similar gazebo in an empty park, while the vividly green trees—almost a rarity so late in September—whispered wearily from the heavy rain on their leaves.

You’d been here before, and you did not want to go anywhere else.

“I’m starting to think,” you began, “that there’s something about us that attracts rain.”

Jungkook was thinking this very thought and laughed so heartily that the rain stopped for just a second, shamed into silence by a sound far more charming than the eager pitter-patter against the roof.

“You think we could make some money out of it?” he joked, his eyes energetic. “Maybe add a little performance to it? Rain dance?”

“We might have accidentally performed one already,” you said, stepping closer to the edge of the gazebo to watch the raindrops splash against the damp ground.

“You’re right,” he agreed, taking your hand in his and guiding you to face him. “Let me see.”

He brought your hand to his chest and you watched, puzzled, as he closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate very hard on the sounds around him. People across the street screeched as they ran from the rain. A stubborn gull was screeching in the exact same way somewhere overhead.

Jungkook clutched your hand tighter and hummed. He was joking, clearly putting up a show, but you heard the faint sound of distant thunder, and the joy on his face turned luminous.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed as you laughed, and the rain, encouraged by your approval, began to pour even harder.

You watched him revel in this delightful coincidence—or an elusive sign—and allowed his radiant smile to bring back the memories that you had locked away in a box you didn’t dare touch unless you were half-asleep.

It had been raining on your first date seven years ago, but it had also been raining when he suggested that date. You’d felt invincible then, the only one staying dry in the whole world, as you nearly sprinted home from the party where he’d asked you out. You stumbled over the threshold of your dorm room, your shoes wet and slippery, and landed on your knees, shouting the news to your roommate, who was startled out of bed by your loud entrance.

This was the beginning of the happiness you’d felt almost every day since then. But this happiness came with a price: you would come to class and you could not rest, could not find it in yourself to calm down, until Jungkook arrived and took his usual seat behind you. You wouldn’t even have to look, you’d always know he had come because you’d feel a sudden sense of peace—and then you’d lock eyes with him across the room.

For years after this, even today, when you tried to find a period of your life where you’d felt the happiest, these were the moments that your mind returned to.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook asked, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek and bringing your focus back to the rainy moment with his touch.

“It—it’s been seven years and now we’re back in the rain,” you replied, distracted by the lingering echo of the years that have passed outside this gazebo. “Nothing’s changed.”

A faint smile danced on his lips.

“Yeah. Nothing important has,” he agreed. “I still love you.”

You met his gaze, a little thrown off. “W-what do you mean, still? That was our first date seven years ago.”

“Yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the confusion on your face. “Oh, did you think I asked you out right after I saw you? No, no. I spent a whole year absolutely fucking pining after you before I finally mustered the courage to ask you out.”

You assumed he might have liked you a little, based on the way he’d introduced himself to you. But you obviously didn’t know about his alleged year-long pining that preceded your first date. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe him, given your own year-long pining. It made little sense for the two of you to like each other for so long and not do anything about it.

On the other hand, considering the past few years, perhaps it made perfect sense.

Your heartbeat had sped up, so you argued childishly, “no, you didn’t.”

“I did. Ask anyone,” he said, grinning. He wasn’t as embarrassed about this as he used to be—and your surprise made it easier for him to admit everything. “I never knew how to love you quietly. But it still took me ages to talk to you even with everyone’s encouragement. And that, uh—our first conversation didn’t go very well.”

“Wait—what do you mean? It went very well,” you disagreed. “I remember everything you said word for word. ‘We have Sociology together, I saw you sleeping in class, very cute by the way, the professor does not know how to shut up, have you seen that new Studio Ghibli film, I recently watched their classic with some friends, My Neighbour Jungkook, I’m Totoro by the way, I thought maybe—wait—no—’”

He interrupted you once your smile had grown dangerously wide. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

“I would never!” you said through laughter. “I think I knew I was in it for life the moment you said all that.”

He had to look down because the bees inside him had multiplied, spreading rapidly to his head and his lungs and his stomach, and he was a little concerned that he’d start buzzing, too.

“Not one period, nothing,” you continued, a melancholic haze in your eyes. “Just commas and an endless stream of thought. You could have asked me to bury a body, I would have said yes.”

He smiled, but everything inside of him was turning upside down, returning to normal, then turning downside up.

Every time he remembered how he approached you seven years ago, he either felt a little uncomfortable or completely mortified. He’d never thought you’d remember that day so well and with such fondness.

“By the way,” you added when he did not speak, “you did look a little like you were about to confess to accidentally murdering my roommate when you started to speak.”

This finally made him chuckle, and he felt his skin thaw from the frozen state of amazement. He remembered hoping that you’d forget all about what he’d said that day. Now he realised he had never felt more thrilled that you remembered.

“I know,” he said. “I was shaking.”

“Yeah. I, um—” you trailed off, needing another minute. “I had a crush on you, too, actually. For a long while.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of criminal disbelief. “You did not.”

You recognised your own suspicion in his words and smiled. However, unlike Jungkook, who owned up to his stressful pining and memorable first impression, you did not feel ready to confess to your silent sulking quite as easily.

“I did,” you said. “But you turned away every time I looked at you on campus, so I thought, oh, okay. That guy hates me for some reason. Nevermind.”

“I didn—I never—”

“I actually made a playlist before we met,” you added quickly before you could change your mind. “And I, uh, kept updating it throughout our relationship.”

You did not look at him when you said this, so you missed the befuddled look on his face.

“A pl—you made a playlist?” he repeated, his thoughts momentarily derailed. He couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. “And you never told me?”

“And I will continue to act like you don’t know about it,” you said.

He was too ecstatic to care. He hadn’t dared to imagine that he would have such a strong presence in your thoughts that you would create a playlist about him—for him? (he thought he might faint)—before you even met.

“No, b-but I’m supposed to be the one making grand gestures in our relationship, and you have a playlist about me? Ab-about us?” he questioned, almost frantic. “Is it—well, what songs are in it? About our relationship?”

You tried to put your words together, your slow, calculated breaths a stark contrast against his passionate energy. Another clap of thunder, unusually intense, rumbled in the sky.

“Sort of,” you finally answered. You thought that a playlist did not come anywhere close to everything he’d done and attempted to do for you, but you still struggled to articulate yourself. “Or songs that we both liked. Songs that we listened to together. Songs that we discovered on roadtrips—just, uh, stuff like that.”

He shook his head, every part of his skin itching with an unfathomable urge to hear these songs.

“You have to let me listen to it,” he stated.

“No,” you said, giving a determined shake of your head. “It’s enough that you know it exists.”

“I will absolutely never shut up about this,” he retorted, gesturing with his hands to emphasise his commitment to being annoying, “and I might end up telling more people.”

“I will kill you if I have to,” you warned.

“So I will haunt you, then,” he returned. “Is it on Spotify?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It’s private.”

“I am not above pulling a Sid and stealing your phone,” he said, resolute.

You snorted despite yourself.

“Okay. Fine,” you said. “Maybe I’ll give you the link after.”

Jungkook waited for further clarification, but you decided you’d said enough.

He was confused. He no longer had any clear delineations of time in his life—ever since he found you again, his whole life had shifted to “after.”

“After—after Sid?” he asked.

“After everything,” you replied, unintentionally ominous as your gaze wandered to the fragmented reflections of the clouds on the rain-soaked pavement. “After we leave London. After we deal with the label. After it stops fucking raining every time we go out together.”

Jungkook thought he could already see these things: the Parisian streets after you’ve left Sid in London, the peace after you’ve told the label about your relationship, the sun in the sky after the rain lost its courage to threaten you again.

“Okay,” he relented, his features softening. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “I know you will.”

He hummed, stepping on a loose floorboard with the edge of his boot.

“Now, then,” he said, “tell me about this crush you supposedly had on me.”

“It was a crush,” you insisted, your voice growing more fervent right away.

Jungkook smiled but tried to remain collected. He had decided it was better for his sanity not to believe you.

“I liked you ever since I saw you at that first freshman party,” you continued and he realised that he was absolutely, without a doubt not collected at all. “I spent that entire night scrolling through the list of people invited to this event on Facebook until I found your profile. But I didn’t dare to send you a friend request, because—well, you know. We hadn’t talked or anything. I thought maybe you’re not interested.”

He thought his heart might stop because this freshman event was where he first saw you—and for every waking and sleeping moment since then, he had been interested.

“I noticed you around campus after that,” you continued. “And I would have talked to you first, I think. If you hadn’t looked like you dreamed of my violent death every time you met my eye.”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the pillows of his palms.

“Well, obviously, I liked you too much to look at you and not glare,” he said, even though none of that was obvious. “I actually thought I developed some sort of an allergy right when I first saw you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “An allergy?”

“Yeah. Shortness of breath, just feeling hot all over, sweating profusely,” he elaborated, moving his hands away from his face to reveal his faint, nostalgic smile. “That had never happened to me before. It was either the dust in the room or you. And there wasn’t a lot of dust.”

You pursed your lips before your cheeks could stretch any further.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “they don’t clean the building that well.”

“It was you,” he stated firmly. “Got my breath catching in my throat. Gave me butterflies, made my heart race—made me feel all the things that people write embarrassing bubblegum pop songs about.”

You looked down to collect yourself before all the signals that your heart was sending to your brain could reflect on your face.

“Catchy songs, though,” you murmured.

“Catchy, sure,” he agreed, his tone wistful. “Until all those things they sing about happen to you, and you feel like you’re drowning.”

You felt a little like you might drown just now as your heart pounded in your chest, angry at you for another wasted year.

“I’m really happy we finally ended up together,” he said. “Seven years ago, and today.”

You finally looked up at him and remembered all the times when you used to worry that you had already lived through your happiest moments, and any little joy you’d come across later would pale in comparison. You knew better now.

Jungkook was your happiest moment, and he was right here. He’d always been right here.

“I love you,” you said, a little suffocated by the overwhelming warmth in your chest. “I’ve loved you every day for all these years.”

He was smiling so widely that his lip ring dug into his stretched lips. He reached out to caress your cheek, resting his palm on the side of your face for a moment, his eyes bright and glittering.

He kissed you slowly, his bottom lip lingering between your lips while the rain washed the noise of the city away. He tasted love and longing on your tongue, and he had never in his life wished for the sunshine to stay away longer.

The rain listened. It had become a fundamental part of your present and a prophet of your future: the two of you were going to spend the rest of your lives listening to the rain and falling in love.

Since Rated Riot had a day off and the other members let you know where they were by bickering continuously in the groupchat, you and Jungkook locked yourselves in his hotel room when you returned.

You changed into dry clothes first, and then noticed that Sid still hadn’t replied to your text. In case he really hadn’t received it, you sent another one—with just question marks—hoping that he’d interpret your repeated messages as a sign of your desperation to talk to him.

You put your phone away and climbed back into bed. The sun had already set outside the window, casting faint, elongated shadows around you in the room. You and Jungkook listened to the music playing on his phone and returned to the snacks he had bought for your film night a few days earlier.

As the song switched to the latest Bad Omens collaboration, you closed your eyes to nod along, and he reached over to snatch a chocolate-covered cherry bonbon from you, causing a spark of static electricity to pass between you.

“Sorry,” he said, chuckling after he heard you gasp. “It’s from the bees, I think. They must have somehow electrified me.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something that bees can do,” you played along, sitting up on the bed and unwrapping another candy for him. “Maybe you should take an ice bath to avoid these after-effects.”

He accepted the candy with a grin. “No. I like shocking you when I touch you.”

To be fair, he didn’t need bees or electricity for that—but you decided not to point that out.

You realised how much peace you felt here: listening to music and eating sweets with him across the bed from you. You didn’t think there was anything you still needed in life. Watching him close his eyes as the chocolate melted on his tongue, and hearing him hum with childlike delight as he swallowed, filled an emptiness inside of you that nothing—no trips abroad, no late-night drinks, no shopping sessions—could have filled.

This random moment in his hotel room was nothing at all, yet it was everything.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, startling you both.

“Sid?” Jungkook asked eagerly, letting the remaining chocolate melt slowly on his fingers while you reached for your phone.

“No,” you replied, checking the screen. “It’s Maggie. She just posted the backstage pictures with our list.”

His expression tightened. “Oh.”

“There’s nothing from Sid,” you added.

Jungkook finally popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. He decided—quite abruptly—that he’s had enough discussions about Sid and everything you’ve been through because of him.

“You know what we should do?” he asked, licking the remnants of the chocolate off his fingers. “We should go to the sea after the tour ends.”

“Oh—we—yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. You thought it was very unfair of him to ask you this while running his tongue over his fingers all in the same breath. “We—but we don’t know when that’ll be.”

“Whenever,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

It took you half of a second to say “okay,” and he didn’t think he’d ever learn how to stop his heart from soaring every time your agreement came so quickly, so easily.

To be honest, you didn’t know why he even asked. It was fairly clear that there weren’t many instances where you would have refused him.

However, your response still painted his features with every warm hue in existence, and he settled back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and closing his eyes. As you watched him, you were forced to acknowledge one more time that witnessing him like this should have required an admission ticket—and a sign reading, “do not touch the exhibit.”

“I feel like I have everything,” he said, unknowingly echoing every sentiment you felt. “I don’t even care if Sid replies to you and if our plan works.”

You leaned against the pillows on the other side of the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, a melodious hum in his tone. He opened his eyes to meet yours and placed his hand on the pillow beneath his head. “We’re—you’re here with me. The tour is going well, it’s—that’s it. That’s my whole dream.”

He looked beautiful in an almost devastating way. He looked like every extravagant adjective that sounded made-up when you encountered it in writing for the first time: transfixing. Beguiling. Effulgent. Pulchritudinous.

You really wanted to touch the exhibit.

“Do you know how we formed Rated Riot?” he asked suddenly, distracting you.

You raised your eyebrows, then turned your gaze away. Jungkook realised you probably didn’t understand where his question had come from, but you didn’t ask him anything, so he did not explain.

Truthfully, you did not know the complete story behind how Rated Riot got together. You only knew what each of the boys was doing when they first met.

“I don’t know much,” you admitted. “I know that Hoseok kicked things off.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, then stopped. “Or maybe Namjoon, actually? Because Namjoon saw Hoseok at some gig that he went to. When he asked about his band, Hoseok gave him, like, fifteen business cards. But even though he filled in for all these bands, it was still only maybe one gig per week. That’s nothing. So, Namjoon told him he’s too talented for that shit. He said he needed his own band.”

You recalled Yoongi mentioning that Namjoon was the first producer that Rated Riot have worked with, but you hadn’t realised this was before the band was even formed.

Suddenly, the broken air conditioner in the room whirred back to life, interrupting your thoughts.

“S-so, they started talking,” Jungkook said, momentarily distracted by the loud noise. “Hoseok wanted to be independent, and Namjoon didn’t push him to sign with Jett Records back then. He helped him. Unofficially, I guess. They found Taehyung very randomly at this one after-party for somebody at our label—well, our future label. Namjoon took Hoseok there to network, and Taehyung just happened to be there. No one knows why, but you know Taehyung. He’s always going to be right where he needs to be.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding knowingly. Taehyung always seemed to find his way to the people and places meant for him.

“Yeah, so he was at that party,” Jungkook continued, “and he overheard Namjoon and Hoseok discussing the plan for Hoseok’s band. They were saying that they needed a bassist first. And Taehyung just chimed in like, “I play bass.” Just out of the blue. Namjoon asked him who he was, and he introduced himself. Namjoon then asked what he was doing here, and Taehyung said, “I’ll tell you if you let me join the band”—which he never did, by the way. We still don’t know what he was doing at that party.”

You chuckled softly. Knowing Taehyung, nothing in this story surprised you, but you were still impressed by how quickly his energy captivated Hoseok and Namjoon.

“So, they let him join?” you asked.

“Namjoon claims he auditioned for them first,” Jungkook said, clicking his lips questioningly. “But one time when Hoseok was very drunk, he admitted that he’d felt desperate. Namjoon was busy and couldn’t help him much, so Hoseok had to figure things out on his own. He said he called and invited Taehyung to join right away. He thought they could find a proper bassist later, and Taehyung could fill the spot for the time being. Funny.”

“Oh,” you said. “Because he hadn’t heard him play yet?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He hadn’t seen Taehyung even holding a bass before. So, he had doubts. I guess I get that. Anyway. He invited Namjoon to their first rehearsal and Taehyung blew Namjoon the fuck away. That’s it. Hoseok said that after that, he was worried Namjoon would sign Taehyung and leave him behind. Not that Namjoon would do that, but uh—yeah. Taehyung was that good.”

“They’re both that good,” you said. “Hoseok never acknowledges his own talent.”

“Right?” he nodded eagerly, turning to his side to look at you. There was a warm smile on your lips that Jungkook really enjoyed. “They’re both amazing.”

“So, how do you come into the picture?” you asked.

He took a breath before answering.

“I saw Hoseok and Taehyung playing at this dive bar that Sid dragged me to,” he said.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “He said I was annoying and mopey, so he kept taking me to a new place every night. There were hardly any people at this bar that night. Taehyung was singing, but he sang, like, one verse, and then they launched into the longest instrumental break I’ve ever fucking heard. And it was incredible. Shit, I—I’m more into vocal music. But seeing Hoseok and Taehyung play together—there was another guitarist with them, actually, I don’t even know who it was—anyway. It made me realise how powerful instrumental music can be on its own.”

A dreamy fog had descended upon his face, and only now did you realise that the air conditioner had stopped working again, seemingly calling it a day. You appreciated the silence and the way Jungkook looked when he played back the memories in his head, his eyes shimmering with the bright lights and the sounds of the bar that night.

“I didn’t know that Sid met the other members before you joined the band,” you said.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “He also said he could be a better bassist than ‘that guy.’”

“He—of course,” you groaned. “Wait until Luna hears this. She’ll take care of Sid for us on Taehyung’s behalf, I think.”

He nodded, snickering. “I bet. But Sid actually left the bar before they finished their set. I stayed back. After they wrapped up, I went up to Hoseok at the bar and told him how much I enjoyed their performance. Told him I was thinking of picking up drums—”

He paused abruptly, noticing your surprise before you remembered him mentioning this to you.

“Oh, was this when you and Sid were planning to start your own band?” you asked. You had assumed they were joking.

“Yeah,” he replied, snickering. He had been joking, but he still found drummers to be effortlessly cool. “So, Hoseok delivered the longest fucking speech about what his job was like. Don’t ask him about it, by the way, or you’ll have to sit through three hours of him making drum sounds. But anyway, I was pretty drunk by then, and I don’t know, I guess I hummed along to some song that was playing or something.”

You nodded. Jungkook was almost always humming something.

“Then Hoseok said they needed a vocalist for their band,” he continued, “because Taehyung didn’t want to do it. And he noticed me humming, so he jokingly asked if I happened to sing. I said sometimes, nothing serious. Everybody sings sometimes. He told me to sing something for him. I told him to get fucked, we’re in a bar.” Jungkook had to pause here to let you finish laughing. “And Hoseok just shrugged, like, “no one’s at the mic, why not?””

“That did it for you?” you asked.

He nodded. “That fucking did it for me.”

You laughed again, knowing that he would never shy away from anything that resembled a challenge.

“What did you sing?” you asked.

Jungkook gave you a look. There was only one song that always lingered at the back of his mind. You could have guessed it, really, but you were a little frightened about its significance in this context.

“You—you sang Biffy Clyro?” Your throat was dry all of a sudden and useless questions continued to pour out of your dumbfounded chest. “At that bar? In front of Hoseok? “M-Many of Horror?””

“Of course,” Jungkook said, as if there had never been any other song he could have chosen to perform that night, besides the one that followed you and him throughout your relationship. “It—it really fucked with me, though. We had just broken up maybe a month ago, so it was still fresh, you know? And this was my first time singing “Many of Horror” in public, on top of that. And I was—I didn’t do well. I think I missed half the lyrics in the last chorus because it was too much.”

He snickered lightly, trying to lessen the impact of his words. You felt frozen.

“I-I was standing there,” he continued, and you could almost see it, “hiccuping to the I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time, while Hoseok just watched me, expressionless. And then I drank half the bar right after I got off stage.”

He sang the two lines of the song as he shared the story, his voice quiet and tender, and you thought you must have resembled Hoseok right now—so lost in all the emotions brewing inside you that you did not immediately realise he had stopped speaking, and it might have been appropriate for you to reply.

“Y-you still sounded great, though,” you managed. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, maybe four people clapped. Out of the ten or so at the bar,” he said, chuckling. “Hoseok told me he had to make a call, told me to stay right where I was, and then he disappeared. He returned twenty minutes later with some dishevelled guy in a turtleneck with a little hole in the collar.”

You recognised the description. “Namjoon?”

“Namjoon,” Jungkook confirmed, the smile on his face matching the one hesitantly spreading on yours. “I was fucking wasted. They were saying I had to meet with them for rehearsals, they wanted to see how I’d sound with them. And I’m—I couldn’t fucking think straight. They were telling me they wanted me to join the band, and all I could think about was that you weren’t here.”

The excitement in your eyes quickly turned into pain as a sharp twinge of longing pierced through your chest. It cut into every open crevice of your heart, reminding you of the way it had bled in those first few months after you broke up—even on this particular day, while Jungkook was struggling to get himself together in the face of his future, and you were likely at home, tossing and turning in your bed because you did not know what to do with yourself.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes fixed on the bedsheets, his voice filled with incorrigible regret. “But we weren’t talking anymore. I thought—there was this one moment where I thought, well, what’s the point? What’s the use of joining this band if I can’t even tell you about it? A-and they weren’t even a full group when I met them anyway. It took about two more weeks for Yoongi to join.”

You made a conscious effort to swallow the lump in your throat, and shifted your focus to Yoongi to allow for the sudden ache in your chest to subside.

“Yeah, uh—Yoongi mentioned that he was the last to join,” you commented, hoping to steer the conversation back to a less emotionally charged topic. “He used to play for a different band before, right?”

“Yeah. Somnia,” Jungkook said. The name did not sound familiar to you. “They weren’t—um, going anywhere. That’s a very blunt way to put it, but they were just stuck. And Yoongi and Namjoon go way back. So, Namjoon called him one day and lied that he was producing for this new, promising band in need of a permanent guitarist. Said they had a solid rhythm section, but their artistic direction needed some refinement.”

“And, uh,” your voice was a little lighter, “I assume they had a great vocalist, too?”

Jungkook smiled. “They did, yeah. I was trying to be modest, but you brought it up.”

You snickered, offering a nonchalant shrug. “Just trying to help you out.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Yeah. So, Yoongi was the last one to join. He’d—he has a lot more creative freedom with us than he had with Somnia, which still isn’t a lot. But it’s something. And I think that was the main reason why he left them.”

“And they were okay with him leaving?” you asked.

Jungkook turned on his back and sighed.

“I assume they weren’t,” he said, briefly glancing at the ceiling before turning to look at you. “That’s why he doesn’t talk much about it.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, but anyway, Yoongi joined and we were complete,” Jungkook continued. “We released this one song, “Keep Quiet” as our first single, and I think it had maybe ten streams in total on Spotify, two from each of us and Namjoon. It wasn’t great, but it’s our first song together, so it’s—you know.”

Your smile was soft, patient. You knew that the members of the band did not have many fond memories of their first single. Taehyung had once admitted to you that if they hadn’t felt so pressured to release something, they would have waited.

“It’s one of your mostly instrumental songs,” you said. “It sounds great as the introductory track at your gigs.”

“Yeah, but it—it’s not really the song that introduces us as a band,” Jungkook replied. ““Haunting” is. We released it independently, too, a few months after that first song. That—okay, that was in June. Some time after that, this radio DJ that Yoongi knew played “Haunting” on his radio show as a birthday gift to Yoongi. Namjoon and Christian Jett—”

“CJ, apparently,” you cut in.

“Right. CJ,” he repeated. “They heard the song at some event. Apparently, CJ loved it, so Namjoon told him about us. When CJ found out we weren’t signed to a label, he reached out to us. It took Taehyung and me three days to convince Yoongi and Hoseok to go to that meeting. They both had some shitty experiences with record labels in the past. But we persuaded them to at least show up. CJ had us perform “Haunting” and “Cursed” for him, and he signed us on the spot. Well, after Yoongi finished negotiating with him about our contracts.”

Your heart started to race as if you had just realised how much the universe had to align, how many intricate coincidences had to happen to lead Jungkook to his band, and to bring the two of you to this moment in his hotel room.

“We started working on our album,” he went on, “and about four months later—in July, right?—the record started to finally come together. That’s when CJ started to look for a manager for us.”

You took a breath and finished for him, “and reached out to me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “All CJ told us was that he found someone. He mentioned that this person was already working under the label and that the band they managed had recently broken up.”

You did not interrupt the silence that followed, because you thought that Jungkook had paused for a few seconds. But he stopped speaking altogether, waiting for you to share your perspective.

“I-I was, uh, Nick’s assistant at the time,” you said, realising what the silence was for. “We were working with The Jungle Will Get You.” You turned to Jungkook and he shook his head. “Yeah, they were—they weren’t popular. And the members weren’t really motivated, especially towards the end. They split up, eventually. Nick moved on to manage Reconnaissance, and I took on administrative tasks for various bands under the label. It was only for a few months, but I thought I’d end up buried in endless piles of papers. So, when HR called me in to tell me about Rated Riot, I pretended to know exactly who you were to get that job.”

He was smiling next to you on the bed, lost in the memories that did not hurt anymore now that he shared them with you.

“I doubt even HR knew who we were,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling and clasping his hands on his stomach. “I’m just—I’m constantly—I don’t know. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it was you that they chose for us. I mean, you’re amazing, you could have worked with any band out there. But they picked you for us.”

You grappled with the same impossible coincidence.

“I’m thinking about that, too,” you said. “You had so much potential and CJ... I wasn’t sure if he even saw it when he reached out to me. Not to mention, you and I were—we were broken up for two years at that point?”

“A year and seven months,” Jungkook replied.

“Right,” you said, slightly out of breath from the precision of his answer.

He turned to face you. “Did you ever consider turning down that offer to work with us after you found out I’m in the band?”

You exhaled what little oxygen you had left in your lungs. You’d considered many things when you saw him again that day, and you realised now that you still hadn’t fully grasped all the thoughts that had passed through your mind at the time.

“For maybe half a second,” you said. “I was very confident that we could move on from our relationship.”

He grinned. “Look how well that worked out for us.”

“Mhmm, right?” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “So professional.”

He chuckled, intoxicated by your proximity and the peace he found in the knowledge that the universe had put in a good effort to lead you two here.

“I know that—well, it seems like everything just fell into place to get all of you together for Rated Riot,” you said. “But it wasn’t that easy for you guys, was it?”

“Yeah, no, it definitely wasn’t,” he agreed. “After Yoongi joined, we struggled to write one fucking original song for months. We thought the band was going nowhere.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was that bad?”

“Yeah. Everything we tried to work on was shit,” he said. “We were getting drunk every night, trying to find something that could work as our proper first song, something that could really show what sort of a band we were. And nothing worked.”

“So, what happened?” you asked.

“You,” he answered simply.

Your brows creased. “How—what do you mean?”

“Namjoon pushed us to release something authentic for our next single,” he began. “Something that would be more Rated Riot, and less of what Rated-Riot-wanted-to-be, which was what we did for “Keep Quiet.” This next song had to be different. Better. And so, the other guys decided to kick my ass and force me to work. They knew I was writing something, but it—it wasn’t anything serious. Not like what they write. You know I can’t just create shit on the spot. My lyrics have to be about something that I’ve been through. And you’re—you are every single meaningful experience that I have had in my life. The guys—they wanted to use that. So, you’re sort of the main reason why Rated Riot are where they are”

You exhaled slowly, your mind filled with thoughts just like it had been the first time you walked into Rated Riot’s meeting room and saw Jungkook there—looking only slightly different from the music video Luna had shown you before, and remarkably different from your memories.

“And that—this is why I brought this up now,” he said. “It’s all because of you. We broke up, and Sid dragged me to that bar to help me get over you. I sang our song to Hoseok, and he brought Namjoon to convince me to join the band. I wrote “Haunting” about you, and CJ heard it and decided to sign us. We put out several albums, filled with songs I’ve ever written for you, and now we’re on this tour. If it weren’t for you, I just—w-we wouldn’t be here.”

You felt your skin prickle, the sensation quickly turning to a painful sting, and you looked away. Frankly, you did not believe that your influence was this significant—not even after Jungkook had told you that it was. These events seemed like an unbelievable sequence of coincidences that he decided to treat as signs, and you found that you couldn’t breathe if you looked at them as signs, too.

You felt his eyes on you and only meant to glance at him very briefly, but he held your gaze for a few moments longer, watching as a shuddering breath passed your lips. Then he propped himself up on his elbows.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declared, the look in his eyes so final, so determined that you were almost afraid to move when you met his gaze. “And then I’m not letting you go. I don’t care if Sid texts.”

Your voice was very small. “I don’t care, either.”

“Fuck,” was more of an echo than a real whisper as his lips finally collided with yours. The kiss was deep and vehement and full of everything that had built up inside you over this day alone.

But then his tongue met yours and you realised that this day wasn’t all that special. You could have kissed him at any point of any day, and you would have still felt overwhelmed and aching, and you would have needed him right at the tips of your fingers as much as ever.

He tasted like the chocolate-covered cherry bonbons that he’d bought you because they reminded him of the summer nights you’d spent together. He tasted like the sticky homemade candy that the two of you baked when there were no other sweets in your dorm room and you craved something, but refused to leave, refused to pull away. Like the moments on the balcony of his house after you snuck away from his cousins. Like the rainy walks to class when your hair would be sticking to your face, but you couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at each other.

All the thoughts that had been screaming at you for the past fifteen minutes suddenly quieted down as he leaned closer until he was hovering over you, one of his hands on the side of your face.

He felt shivers on the back of his neck when your tentative fingers found their way to his hair. He exhaled softly against your mouth and stilled momentarily when he heard your quiet whimper in response to his kiss, to his breathing, to him.

The room suddenly spun completely out of control around him.

He needed you so much and for such a long time that every time you were with him, every time you kissed him, he worried that he was dreaming again. So he kissed you harder, held onto you tighter—not wanting to find out if he was asleep, not wanting to wake up.

He unbuttoned your denim jacket without pulling away and slid it off your arms, holding the side of your neck with one of his hands. His kiss was so deep, so riveting that you felt your lungs give up, felt them pack up and leave, forcing you to breathe him instead.

His hands caressed your shoulders, finding the straps of your shirt and sliding them down your arms—and then stopping abruptly when he realised that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Exhaling shakily, he pulled back—lightheaded and winded and completely obsessed with you—just to look at you for a minute. There was a playful grin on his lips when he kissed you again.

You pulled away enough to ask, “what?”

“Nothing,” he murmured in-between kisses, “you’re fucking perfect. But I want this off.”

He pulled you closer and you instinctively bucked your hips off the bed, causing a momentary hitch in his breath. He lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling the material up and tracing the invisible symbols on your skin along your ribs, your chest, and your arms. Tossing your shirt aside without looking, he leaned back in, yearning for the feel of your lips on his again and accepting that he could not last one minute without you. Perhaps not even one second.

He felt your hand on his chest, trailing down to the edge of his black t-shirt and distracting him from the kiss with the softness of your touch. You lifted his shirt up to his chest—as far as it would go without breaking the kiss—and felt him hiss at the cold sensation of your bare fingertips on his stomach.

“I’m sorr—” you began, but the second you pulled away to apologise, he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss.

“No.” His whispers were frenzied against your lips. You could have electrocuted him with your touch, sliced him into pieces with your fingers, and he would have thanked you for it. “No. You—d-don’t apologise. You’re perfect.”

He heard the way you cursed under your breath—under his breath, too—and he found it hard to inhale against the pressure in his stomach, against the tightness in his jeans. He was humming with near desperation when you pulled him closer, running your hands over his arms, your touch gentle enough to truly kill him.

He was frantic, eager to touch you, to feel your arms, your thighs, your chest, your neck—all of you—before someone interrupted you. Before his time with you ended. He knew he had the rest of his life to spend with you, but now he worried it still wouldn’t be enough.

His tongue moved over yours, his kiss deep, rushing, dizzying. He did not need to look to find the button on your pants, unclasp it, and slide the rough material down your thighs, swallowing a moan when he felt you shivering under his touch.

He quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside before kissing you again, high on the sound of your lips smacking against each other. He shuddered when your hands unexpectedly met his on the belt of his jeans.

“Let me do it,” you asked in a whisper—but he was wholeheartedly yours at that moment, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Okay,” he complied, allowing you to gently push him back onto the bed.

Closing his eyes, he savoured the newfound sweetness from your kiss on his tongue. He felt you shuffle closer to him on the bed and had to take a sharp breath when one of your hands slid down his abdomen to his jeans.

You leaned over to kiss him again, and he broke—only capable of lying idly for so long—reaching for you and caressing your shoulders and your arms. He made it almost impossible for you to keep doing what you were doing; unruly wildfires blazed everywhere he touched you.

Jungkook was determined not to break the kiss even as you undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. He thought he did well. But then he lifted his hips off the bed to help you pull his jeans off and you brushed your fingers over the bulge in his boxers—your touch featherlight against the material—and he was very nearly finished.

He whimpered lightly into the kiss, his breaths growing heavier, his hands growing greedier. You made sure to hold one of his hands in yours to prevent him from flipping you over on the bed, and he responded to that by cheating: he held onto you tighter and attempted to pull you closer every time he gently bit your bottom lip and you got distracted by the pleasant sting.

Finally, you managed to slide his boxers down his thighs, catching each of his heavy breaths on your tongue. You pulled back, and he was about to protest until he saw you throw one of your legs over his, straddling his hips.

He watched you slide your panties down your legs while hovering over his thighs and he wasn’t sure how long ago he’d stopped blinking. Mesmerised by the sight, he didn’t immediately rush to assist you in maintaining your balance as you lifted one knee off the bed.

Once he recovered enough to remember to inhale, he sat up and pulled you flush to his chest. You gasped in surprise when he hooked his fingers behind the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs faster.

“I said let me do it,” you reminded him with a pout, and he kissed you instead of replying, too impatient to wait.

Your hands slipped down his chest and your hips bucked into his just barely, but he exhaled deeply, breaking the kiss. You used the moment while he was dazed to push him back into the pillows.

He fell back on the bed, knowing very well that he’d been in this position before—with you on top of him, your fingers tracing over his length before finally wrapping around the base—but he still shivered, throwing his head back into the pillows. He still kept his eyes fixed on your face when you started to move your hand in gentle strokes, killing him a little more with each movement of your wrist.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “At least let—l-let me touch you.”

He phrased it like a request, but he did not mean it like one. You didn’t resist when he reached for you, his hands travelling over your thighs, lingering on your lower back, squeezing your ass, and pulling your hips into his.

One of your hands had come to rest on his chest for support while you continued to stroke his length in deliberately slow, languid motions. You could feel him getting harder under your touch, and you closed your eyes, your teeth sinking into your lip.

He could not look away from you. He wanted to be the one to bite your lips, but he couldn’t move close enough to you with your hands on him. He settled for exploring the skin on your hips, sliding his hands up and down your thighs. Soon, you felt the tips of his fingers brush lightly over your stomach and then descend lower to slip between your folds.

He exhaled deeply through his mouth when he felt how wet you were, and that was enough for him—he would have found a way to hold you tightly against his chest even if you were across the world from him.

In a flash, he was sitting up, connecting your lips again and bringing his tongue over yours while he gathered the wetness between your folds with his thumb. Your grip on his length tightened instinctively, and Jungkook groaned, automatically applying more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves on your clit—just enough to have you arch your back into him.

He felt you move faster, squeezing the base and speeding up until your fingers brushed over his tip. Trying to fight back a moan, he reflexively bucked his hips into your hand while two of his fingers teased your entrance, sliding over your wet folds in a teasing, tickling motion. You broke the kiss, sighing and dropping your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath—you didn’t give him any of that, so he thought this was only fair—as he kissed along your jaw, gently sucking on a spot on the nape of your neck. His fingers continued stimulating your clit with a combination of light, fast circles and harder, slower strokes that he knew would make you break for him.

“F-fuck, wait,” you exhaled, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. “I w-want you.”

“You have me, my love,” he whispered back, running his tongue over the faint mark he’d left on the sensitive skin of your neck and humming, his tone gravelly and rasp, when you hissed at the feeling. “All of me.”

You gripped his wrist tighter. “Lie back.”

He didn’t immediately obey, opting to use his only free hand—the one you couldn’t hold, because you needed both hands to stop his determined fingers from drawing you any closer to the edge—to squeeze your ass and pull your hips over his length instead.

“Lie back,” you ordered again, your words firm, but breathless. It started a raging flame in his lower stomach, but he still resisted a little more—kissing you again, sucking on your tongue, sliding his hands over your thighs, and nearly making you lose it before he finally leaned back against the pile of pillows.

Jungkook still thought he was doing fairly well, considering the burning on his skin and inside him, but watching you unwrap a condom package and slide the latex down his length—torturously slowly, it seemed to him, to really test his limits—he thought he might lose it, after all.

You felt him jerk slightly in your hand, sensitive as you rolled the condom down his length, and your deep exhale blended with his sharp inhale. He locked the sound of your breathing somewhere deep in his mind, too focused on your touch to revel in it right now, but far too inspired by the response your body had to his to forget it altogether.

He bit his lip, his eyes locked on yours as you positioned yourself over his length. He was convinced that you were teasing him on purpose when you brought his tip closer to your entrance and then paused. He could already feel the wetness of your folds on him, and the second he lifted his hands to touch you, he was forced to let them drop in utter defeat when you finally slid his tip in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight, warm walls as you struggled to take all of him in at once, and stopped, most cruelly, halfway in.

You looked breathtaking on top of him and there wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind, so he couldn’t offer to help you anymore, couldn’t even guide you down on his length. He could barely stay still, biting his lip and clutching the sheets so he wouldn’t ram his hips into yours.

“You’ll kill me,” he whispered in a strained voice when you lifted your hips again, sliding his length over your folds, but not slipping it back inside.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him again, taking all of him in, inch by inch, and a soft sigh escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. “O-oh.”

You had to suppress another whimper when your hips met his, the stretch of his length stinging pleasantly. He hissed at the feeling, his hands flying to your hips to keep you in place.

His touch reminded you of Amsterdam suddenly: of the way he had held you, the way he had felt after all these years.

You wanted him so much that it no longer felt like a simple wish. He felt like a necessity and you could not understand how you’d ever managed to go on with your day when he wasn’t in the room with you.

You needed a moment to adjust to him and Jungkook watched you all through it. Even though he was barely able to keep his eyes open, he took in all of your reactions as the initial sting subsided and your hips twitched against his.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Move for me, love. Please?”

You sighed as his endearing words—and the loving lilt in his voice—lit up your stomach and made you involuntarily clench around him. He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. You had told him to lie back, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could obey.

Finally, you began to move and he threw his head back, swallowing hard at the feeling. You rotated your hips in slow circles, allowing his entire length to delicately rub the walls inside you, and he could not remember when he’d last felt you like this. He could not remember anything outside this room, and when you rested both of your hands on his chest for balance, he seemed to forget his own name, too.

“Fuck,” was a soft, jagged breath that got caught in his throat as he watched you in the dimly lit room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out your silhouette, and he squeezed your ass tighter so he wouldn’t immediately lose it at the sight.

You drew back all of a sudden, placing one hand on his chest and resting the other against the mattress, right by his arm. You pulled your bottom lip in with your teeth as you lifted your hips, then slowly lowered yourself on him again. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, and Jungkook parted his lips, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth every time your thighs met his.

You shifted your weight to your knees to increase the pace and he nearly choked on his breath when you placed your hands on his shoulders and bounced your hips against his, his length gliding against your velvety walls.

“Y-you—oh, fuck. You look s-so beautiful,” he stammered, his hands travelling from your hips to your waist, then back down again.

Love and lust burned in his darkened eyes when he looked up at you, his hair falling in messy curls around his face. His chest rose and fell underneath you, the muscles on his abdomen tightening each time you sank down on him again.

You watched him like this and you changed your mind about describing him; an adjective that would fit him had not been invented yet.

You tried to respond to his words, but he suddenly lifted his hips off the bed to meet you halfway and knocked all breath out of your lungs, forcing a soft whine to pass your lips instead as you leaned into him, losing your balance.

It was starting to get too much—how deeply he reached inside of you, how tightly he held onto you—and Jungkook noticed it right away. Squeezing your hips, he adjusted his position by bending his knees for a better angle and bouncing you on his lap very slowly once, then twice, before pulling you into his chest and thrusting into you faster.

Curses and almost desperate whines fell from your lips, matching the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. He knew he had hit your sweet spot when he felt your nails digging into his chest, when you tightened around him, when your strained breaths got louder, when your teeth grazed his collarbone—and he growled, gripping your hips tighter and trapping you against his chest with his other arm.

“Jungkook—” you panted, barely able to speak, and the sound of his name on your lips ignited the room around him.

He grunted softly and flipped you both to your sides, pulling your back into his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist and chest, his grip firm, deliberately inescapable, but his fingers gentle as he teased your nipples. His thrusts were slower at this new angle, but now they were deep and hard. It was your increased breathing and louder, uncontrollable chants of his name that encouraged him to speed up.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. And again, louder when you clenched around him, “f-fuck.”

This position allowed him to reach even deeper inside you and the way your walls sucked him in was as blissful as it was worrisome—he wanted this to last, and he didn’t think it would. Not when he had you so close to him, inhaling the scent of your apple shampoo, peppering breathy kisses on the side of your neck, feeling the goosebumps that he brought to your skin when he caressed your nipples, and thinking he might actually explode every time your body jolted against his with each one of his thrusts.

He slid one of his hands down your navel and kept his palm right above your entrance for a distracted minute, feeling himself move in and out of you, and groaning into your shoulder before lowering his hand to your clit. You writhed against him as he rubbed on a soft, gummy spot there, bringing you dangerously close to your high.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimpered, almost helplessly clutching his arm that was wrapped around your chest. “I’m—s-so close.”

“I’m here, my love,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Anything you were going to say died on your tongue when you felt his lips on your neck again. His fingers continued to massage the soft spot between your folds and your walls clenched and pulsated around him with each thrust of his hips. White clouds gathered on the edges of your vision and a low moan passed your lips as the knot in your stomach tightened.

Jungkook felt you tremble in his arms and pulled you into his chest harder. Keeping quiet had stopped being an option for you when he pressed on your clit with the pillows of his fingers, his hips continuously drilling into you—he remembered the spot you liked, and he made sure to hit it every time. He felt you tighten again, so close to your peak, and he relished in your loud whimpers.

Pulling his lip ring in with his teeth, he held you tightly against him to maintain a steady pace, his strokes assured and calculated, to push you completely over the edge. He fell impossibly more in love with you when his name got caught in your throat with your breath.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed as you writhed in his arms, coming down from your high. “S-so pretty—oh, fuck, my love—when you come for me.”

The anticipation of his own climax soon caused his hips to start moving with a certain frenzy, and he pulled all the way out before plunging himself into you again and fully bottoming out.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he grunted breathlessly, twitching inside of you.

His hips stilled completely and he cursed again, spilling himself into the condom. Groaning deeply, he drove his hips into yours instinctively, this way prolonging his pleasure and the time he spent watching you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet. He thought he heard you whisper a breathless I love you and he was convinced he came again just at the sound of it.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and his voice cracked in the middle of his breathless chants, “fuck, I love you so much—I-I love you so fucking much—”

He still didn’t release his grip on you, lifting his head to kiss your neck again, while the two of you tried to recover and accepted, eventually, that you probably never truly would.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Then, again, from the back of his throat, “fuck.”

You turned around as much as you could with his arms around you, and met his lips with your own, humming into the kiss and causing him to lose his sanity again—although, to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d even regained it yet.

Your bodies remained locked in an almost desperate embrace for another minute, your lips moving leisurely against each other as your breaths mingled and the room—but not your hearts—quieted down.

Unfortunately, you had to strain your neck to kiss him from this position, and Jungkook ended up having to let go of you. He pulled out carefully—the gentle contact still making you hiss from sensitivity—and helped you roll to your other side to face him.

After pressing another kiss to your lips, he grabbed a stray pillow and placed it next to your head. He touched your chin gently, prompting you to lift your head so he could slide the pillow underneath.

You smiled at the unnecessary, but very appreciated gesture. “I love you.”

His chest contemplated bursting.

“I love you,” he replied. “So much that I am not—I don’t want you to leave this room. Or my bed, actually. I want to stay with you every second of every day, and I’m okay if every court would qualify me as insane for that.”

You snickered into the pillow, your expression radiant. “I don’t think you’re insane.”

He grinned and got up to discard the condom before climbing back into bed.

“And I want to stay, too,” you added, closing your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he got comfortable on the bed. “Not just tonight, but always?”

“Of course,” you whispered, your voice turning lighter, “but I do have my own room.”

He settled in his spot next to you and draped an arm over your waist with a soft grunt. “Fuck if I knew why.”

He pulled back slightly to see your laughter. You didn’t seem like you were going to object or tell him that you should leave, but he still caressed your cheek, bringing his fingers over the smile lines by your lips that he had caused. His heart fought fiercely against his mind at the sight of them. He was almost ready to call Rated Riot’s next song “Smile Lines” and just sigh dreamily into the microphone for five minutes while Yoongi played gentle piano chords in the background.

“I think you should stay with me everywhere we go,” he said, leaning in to connect your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. His voice was a whisper against your mouth, “so we could do this again. And again. And again.”

You broke the kiss—and he would have been very upset about that, but you did that to laugh again, and he understandably forgot everything he was thinking of doing.

“You have a show tomorrow,” you reminded him gently, your eyes warm.

He shrugged. “So we’ll have to take a break for a few hours.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your smile to an appropriate level. “Hmm.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “Sounds good?”

“You are messing with my head,” you whispered.

He grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. “I love you.”

You kissed him back but made sure to click your lips in feigned disapproval as you pulled away. “What did I just say?”

“You messed with mine first,” he countered, his quiet laughter blending with the warmth of your kiss.

He had already stolen all air from your lungs, robbed your mind of every thought you possessed before him, and kept your heart hostage—and now he was beaming like he knew very well he’d done all that. Like he wasn’t one bit sorry about ingraining himself in your life so much that it felt like you shared one soul, and it had stayed with him after you broke up: forcing him to suffer from the weight of it, while you searched for something missing inside you.

“I love you,” you said again. Your words were a whisper and they got lost on his tongue but found their way to his heart anyway.

Planting a few quick, butterfly kisses to your lips, he leaned back against the pillows, keeping his palm on the side of your face so he could rub gentle circles over your cheek with his thumb.

He loved you, and sometimes this love was all that he could think about.

Other times, however, the shadows in the room grew just a little darker.

“Sid hasn’t replied, huh?” he asked quietly, reluctantly.

You sighed, shaking your head. Your phone had been silent all night, and the more you tried to ignore the silence, the more noticeable it became.

“Should I text him?” he suggested. “To poke the bear a little.”

You frowned and felt your stomach sink—a feeling that Jungkook made even worse by pulling away from you and allowing for the brutal, cold air of the room to fill the space where his hand had been.

“What do you mean?” you asked, sitting up.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

You moved closer to be able to see the screen over his shoulder. You frowned the whole time, but it really did not take Jungkook more than a minute to compose a message that almost sparked an argument between the two of you.

After some relatively mild back and forth—consisting of your annoyed, “I told you I want to keep you out of this” that was followed immediately by his melodramatic, “I’m doing this because I love you”—the two of you reached a compromise.

Look, his text to Sid read. I know you’ve been texting my girlfriend. Stop. Let’s keep this shit between us.

This wasn’t the full truth. After sending you a few mocking texts after he posted that picture to his Instagram, Sid hadn’t texted you anything else. You weren’t sure if this would even provoke a response, but Jungkook was convinced. He sent the text and pulled you back onto the pillows despite your protests.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “Until he texts you.”

Sure enough, he did.

Just as you lied down next to Jungkook, just as he intertwined your hands, his fingers toying with yours, just as you were about to forget your phone altogether—just then, the text finally came.

Your eyes widened, but Jungkook had the decency not to gloat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you until the beating of your heart returned to a reasonable pace. Then he let you sit up again and reach for your phone.

Sid’s message read, “eager to talk to me now?:)” and you breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as you showed the text to Jungkook.

“Alright,” you said, content. You didn’t even need to respond to him anymore, he’d already started the next step of your plan. “Now we’re good to go.”

Jungkook, smiled, nodding and extending his hand to pat the bed. You lied back down and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to feel your skin against his again. His breathing was soft on your neck and you smiled back, finally losing yourself in the calming darkness of his room and the warmth of his touch.

For one blissful minute, you focused on his breathing and traced the edges of his tattoos, and felt as though nothing bad, nothing hurtful or upsetting had ever happened to either of you.

“Will we be okay, do you think?” you asked wearily. “Tomorrow.”

He was taken aback by the question, you could tell from the way his breathing increased, but his response was quick and certain.

“We’re already okay,” he said. “Today and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day—”

“I love you,” you interjected softly, successfully stopping him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I would have kept going.”

You grinned. “I know you would have.”

He snickered, pulling you closer until you nestled your face into his neck and rested your hands on his chest, tapping, every now and then, to the beat of his heart.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “For a few hours, at least.”

You leaned your head back enough to press a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips instead of replying.

Jungkook hummed and melted into you, easing his grip to give you some space to breathe, but still remaining attached to you like he was a part of you and you were a part of him.

He could have stayed with you like this, he thought, for the rest of his life. And for at least a hundred more lives after that.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “give”

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[slvtforoldermen]

Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary

How big are Pedro Pascal’s characters and some NSFW headcannons

(WARNING: DETAILS OF PENISES AND TALKS OF SEX - MDNI)

Part Two <3

A/N: Sorry I never continued Fluff February :(, I lost motivation so I’ll just write them and post them as a prompt list for whenever…

Joel Miller:

Okay, all his characters are big, it’s a known fact, but Joel is 100% the biggest. Probably about 8.5 inches, with a pretty pink mushroom tip, and GIRTHY AGH! There’s a vein on it that is really visible when he’s hard. Oh and his balls are big too. Everything about Joel is just big. Not only is he big but you best believe he knows how to use it too. He’s got a daddy kink… Fav positions are missionary and cowgirl, however when he’s angry doggy or the mating press are a no-brainer. Daddy kink! DOMINANT!!! There’s no way this man is a sub, it just doesn’t work, he’s just so dom yknow, and when he’s soft, he’s the sweetest he’s ever been, but if he’s angry, hard dom Joel comes out and that’s a man you don’t wanna piss off if you wanna cum. He’s got such a daddy kink. “Fuck babygirl/boy, you’re so fucking sweet, sugar. So fucking good for daddy. Yeah baby? You like that? Such a good little girl/boy, so fucking sweet.” Daddy kink is such is a big thing for him. Hair wise? Well it’s the apocalypse so it’s probably hard to find the Manscaper 3000 or whatever. He trims his hair with some scissors, honestly he didn’t really care for shaving before you, so he just let it grow, but once when you were sucking him, you almost sneezed from how much it tickled your nose and made a little joke about it after, which made Joel feel a little bad so he cut them just a little shorter. Oh I’m sorry and did I mention… DADDY KINK!!!

Javier Peña:

(Here I’m purely writing about Javier Pena in a fictional sense AS PEDRO, not the real guy, this has nothing to do with the real Javier Pena)

Okay, Javier, my baby daddy. Um, who said that- ANYWAYS! Javier is probably the second biggest, in joint place with Oberyn, definitely about 7-7.5 inches, as he’s nicknamed by moi, the Pussy Slayer of Medellin. It goes without saying that Javier is rough, as we’ve seen, side note: I don’t know why I thought watching Narcos with my family would be a good idea… I was sat on the couch like “😀 okay, I’m watching Pedro have sex next to my mum, just a normal Saturday morning…” anyways back to it (hehe Negan reference) but Javier is rough, doggy and cowgirl are his favourite positions, but sometimes when he’s feeling a little somber he likes a little missionary. As how domestically-kinky I like my men, I’m a little disappointed that Javier isn’t a committed man, but he does have a tiny 🤏 breeding kink, he defo isn’t a fan of being called daddy, in fact just call him Javi and he’s yours, and he’s dom obviously. “Oh carino, you take my cock so well, you good little whore… fuck… my sweet little angel.” I mean, we’ve all seen his hair, so do we really need address it, that also might genuinely be my fav sex scene in all of cinema history.

Oberyn Martell

Okay, admittedly, I haven’t seen any proper scenes of Oberyn, because I’ve just started GOT, so I have no clue what his character is like apart from being a HUGE BISEXUAL SLUT, so he’s just like me 🤭

Oberyn, tying with Javier, is about 7-7.5 inches, and I feel like his cock is definitely a lot more tan than others, idk why, it’s just an instinct. Defo uncircumcised. His fav positions are definitely cowgirl OH and dude is the literal definition of a pillow prince, again, just like me. Suck his dick, please, just suck his dick. Again, I don’t know how he’s presented in GOT, but I’m like 74% sure he’s dominant? From the clips I’ve seen 🫣 Hair wise, do razors exists in the GOT world? Or does my man just shave himself with a sword.

Javi Gutierrez:

Oh my sweet baby Javi… he’s so kinky. I’m fully convinced he’s into full BDSM, not so much where he has to do it every single time, but maybe like once a month. When I was watching TUWOMT for the first time, when Nick is about to go into the room with all his merch and stuff, I was dead convinced it was gonna be a sex dungeon. There’s no way a man is this sweet and adorable without being into some freaky shit.

Anyway, Javi is about 6.5 inches, with a sweet pink tip and he’s definitely a giver not a taker, don’t get him wrong, he ADORES you with his dick in your mouth, but he prefers to eat you out/suck your dick for hours on end. Oh and he’s a sweet talker, when you guys aren’t being full kinky, he’ll praise you to hours on end, mumbling in your ear how good you are in that sexy accent of his. Is a little bit of a switch, but mostly dominant, soft dom if it’s a normal night but if it’s that special night, only your safe word will pull him out of hard dom space. Definitely the type to overstimulate you in a sweet way “you can take it right sweetheart? Mi amor~ just take my cock nice and good, ahí tienes.” Um, daddy kink for surely, but not like every single night like Joel. But when he’s between your legs, and he’s stimulated you so far into sub space, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, and you’re reaching up for him, babbling how good his cock feels in your hole, he can’t help but coo down at you and praise you so hard. He’s not bald, but his hair isn’t long, just trimmed to the point where it tickles your nose when you suck his cock.

Din Djarin

Okay, so I think it’s canon that Din hasn’t really ever felt human touch, so I feel he’s really inexperienced… but the dude’s got a pretty dick. Like it’s just so… pretty. About 6 inches with a sweet baby pink tip, he’s so sensitive too. He loves head but he really can’t say it, he’s just too embarrassed. I just get the vibe that he’s mostly subby. He tried to be dom once but the poor baby couldn’t handle it all. But then he tried again and he did so good, but it tired him out, so if he’s domming, which is once in a blue moon, he’s going to be soft, maybe even softer than Javi. Mommy/Daddy kink!! “Please, I’m good right? Please, please tell me I’m doing good… you always feel so so good, I love you so much.” Please, he’s so sweet I love him. It’s rare that you guys get off together because of reasons due to his upbringing and stuff so he just likes being taken care of, the sweet boy. Before you, he never really cared for shaving, so when you first strip together, he’s a little nervous about it, and then after that he trims it, quite short.

Marcus Moreno

If anyone says this man is a hard dom they’re just kidding themselves, this man is the sweetest man out there, obviously not as much as Din ofc <3.

Marcus has an obsession with using his hands, making you cum just by fingering you. Then when he’s inside you, he slips his fingers into your mouth, or around your neck, or on your cheek. His dick is about 7 inches, and like everyone else, knows how to use it perfectly. Angel is one of his favourite nicknames to call you. “My perfect Angel, taking my cock so good baby…” whilst hes thrusting into you ever so gently. Would never EVER do it when Missy is around, so quickies before picking Missy up from school are his go to, but he loves the days where his mom can take her out for the day or even a grandma sleepover so he can be with you for hours. You under him, over him, him inside you, his good girl/boy, his good angel. Pleasuring you until you get numb. The armpit hair in the scene of the gif gets me and idk why, I have never had a thing for armpit hair but maybe I’m just really horny, but his hair down there is nice and trimmed, not bald, never bald.

Tim Rock(Hard)Ford

Here we go…

Oh Tim man! I have a teensy 🤏 detective kink so when Pedro played this role it was over for me.

Maybe it’s the greying, like Joel, but I feel like he’s huge, just like Joel. He’s 8 inches, living his best life. But he’s just a tired old man, so when he gets home, please just get on your knees for him, he’ll just lay there, stroking your hair, praising you, telling you how good you suck his cock. Then he’ll bring you up to the bed and return the favour, making sure to always get you to tell him about your day as he does so. Saturday nights are always his favourite time to rail into you, he’s had the whole day off, just resting, watching you walk around, getting him so worked up. He has a domestic kink. So seeing you do chores get him so hard. Loves fucking between your thighs when you’re sleeping because he gets home so late and just needs a little relief, but you look so cute and peaceful while you sleep and because he’s so considerate, he doesn’t wanna wake you. “So good for me baby, so good for daddy, gonna fill you up, you’re not gonna let any of my cum slip out right, gonna keep it all in your tummy, yeah, that’s it, cum for me.” TALKS YOU THROUGH IT!!! Sleeps naked. Not trimmed, not shaved, just grows it out, he’s old so he doesn’t care, it’s not like anyone but you would be seeing him like this anyways.

Dieter Bravo

I love Dieter, he’s so cute.

Not dom, but not sub either, just dom enough to see you break under him but sub enough to whimper and get soooo desperate. Such a huge pillow prince, he loves it when you suck him, especially when you grab his balls and caress them, he cums so quick when that happens. He’s about 6.5 inches, and it loves fast, not as in quickie, but he loves seeing you fall apart as he jackhammers into your hole. When you ride him he gets so sweet, and he can last long, don’t worry, but you just look so pretty on top of him, he can’t help it, please don’t be mad at him. Has a thing for dry humping, especially in the morning when he’s too lazy to move properly. “So good baby, oh yeah, fuck, grind against me just like that, mmmf fuck…” loves to beg and watch you beg, he’s so good to and for you, don’t doubt him ever. He doesn’t shave, he trims it, but he’s so goofy, so once he shaved it into a heart.

[retroaria]

hey! I'm not really into nsfw stuff- sooo would you like to do something soft with reo? 😭 like, idk, him as a husband or father so with a family? THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗💗

✮⋆˙ domestic reo headcanons ✮⋆˙

a/n: this is so brain rotted i can’t even lie i think reo is just so easy to romanticize. pure fluff.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy !! - aria 💜 | •

✮ I actually love this because i headcanon that reo would be a great dad :D at the very least he’d be extremely supportive of whatever his children wanted to do in their lives. He wouldn’t force them to follow in his footsteps like his father and he’d use whatever devices he could to ensure they can comfortably follow the path they choose.

✮ Would post about all his children’s accomplishments, or if you guys didn’t feel comfortable posting the kids he’d still take any chance to tell everyone about it - even his teammates who literally don’t care that his son got the highest score on the spelling test (they’re happy for him though). He secretly enjoys scrapbooking for his kids but they’re “your books” and he “just helps you with it sometimes”. (he’s the one who took almost all the pictures and saved every piece of paper his kid has ever drawn on)

✮ Reo is a charming husband, so charming and sweet it’s hard to be mad at him. He’s a bit lacking in cleaning/caretaking capabilities when it comes to the home but he puts in the effort??? He tries his best and if he does a bad job he always makes it up to you one way or another. In all honesty, he’s probably already hired people to do that (forgot this man is inheriting a multi millionaire dollar corporation).

✮ Reo is however very good at taking care of children. Once he has a clear grasp of their needs, he finds it to be really enjoyable and fulfilling. He takes a lot of pride in whatever happiness and comfort he can bring to his kids. He hates the sound of his babies crying, not because it’s annoying (though he complains about that too) but because it genuinely hurts his soul. He can be a bit too worrisome about it sometimes - he’s totally the type of person to look up his child’s symptoms and freak out over seeing all the worst case scenarios.

✮ The one thing that reo particularly excels at is taking care of you when you’re sick. He can always tell when you’re not feeling your best and he immediately harps on you. He doesn’t know how to cook very well but he knows how to make a few different kinds of warm foods to fill your stomach and give you a little energy. He’d absolutely refuse to stay away from you (unless it was a seriously contagious illness or if you guys had a baby that could’ve gotten sick). Doesn’t care if you’re sneezing and coughing and wheezing, he wants to feed you and hold you and kiss your hot head until it cools down and everything is better again. His goal is always to make sure you get better as soon as possible and won’t let you do anything but rest and relax until then.

✮ Reo is an incredible gift giver! I’ve certainly mentioned this in another hc post, but he is always out and about buying you little things that remind him of you. If you guys have a kid that’s just more gifts he’ll have to get and the thought of that honestly excites him.

✮ Anything can happen but…reo with a daughter…guys….

✮ he would be the sweetest girl dad! would do everything in his power to make her believe she’s an actual princess and he’s just one of her loyal servants. Spoils her rotten and doesn’t feel bad about it.

✮ You’d have to explain to him how this could negatively affect your daughter and it would break his heart. He’d go into theatrics trying to refute it because “What do you mean I can’t let her have everything she wants?” and “What if she cries? You want me to make my daughter cry?” he gets it eventually, but remains reluctant lol.

✮ He’d love playing sports with his kids. Would try to get them into soccer but if they end up liking another sport he’s still just as hype. Isn’t initially familiar with the concept of letting the kids win but soon realized he has to level with the speed of their little legs.

✮ I don’t have any specific hc’s for him as a boy dad but he’d be just as great of course - he’d make sure his son sees how women should be treated based on how he treats you!

✮ If he could find a way to make you the total world ruler he would because he truly believes you’re the most capable person. He’s the kind of husband who lets you run things for the most part but is always there to step in when you need a break or if you just want him by your side. Would call for an emergency flight back home from whatever country he’s training in just because you said you didn’t wanna go to parent teacher night alone.

✮ He loves doing mundane tasks with you, but always tries to “make it a bit more fun” as he says - which basically means he puts away the clothes you fold while you listen to him crack really bad jokes at you, gossip about his teammates, or try to sing and serenade you with his MANY playlists he’s made dedicated to you. On days you both have nothing going on he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, which is slightly annoying but it also means you have four hands to do stuff because he’s a participator above all else.

✮ Reo always makes sure to show his appreciation for how hard you work whether it’s at your job, taking care of the kids/house, or both. He takes time alone with you very seriously, even as your lives get busier and your family grows he always makes sure there’s time for the two of you to just be together and be in love. Always jokes about how you guys need to keep the romance going. He has small romantic gestures that he indulges you in throughout the day: kissing you on the cheek, brushing your hair out of your face/tying it back for you if you if you need (taking his hair tie out for you to use), hugging you a little tighter just before you get up, running a bath for the both of you, massaging your shoulders while you talk.

to be fully honest with you guys, i have never in my life wanted to have kids so it was a bit hard for me to imagine what being happy with children would be like LMAO but alas i did my best. stay safe and stay cool. - aria :3

[sato-s-only-wife5107]

Reborn!Wukong: Kidnapped.

Word Count: 3042.

Content/Trigger Warnings: mention of poisoning.

Authors Notes: This came out a lot longer than I thought it would. There is another kidnapped thingy, but this one is based on the reader story and the upcoming one is a requested headcanon featuring all the Wukongs I'm doing.

<---Previous | Start | Next--->

You were no weakling, but you weren't much of a fighter compared to the other two you were left with. While Pigsy protected the monk from the pack of wild beasts, you were accompanied by Wujing. 

In your defence… It wasn't your fault. You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up in something messy that Wukong definitely won't like… Let's just say he definitely won't be a happy camper.

“I'm scared…” Sweat dripped from your forehead at the thought of how mad Wukong would be when he returned to see you gone. 

“You're scared?! What about me?!” Pigsy snapped. 

You looked at Pigsy with a blank look and a raised brow. You didn't really care about what Wukong would do to Pigsy, since getting into a spat was an everyday thing with them. You shook your head and thought of ways to get out of the pit you were thrown into. No, you hadn't put yourself in any danger, it was more of an unexpected attack that got you hurt.

In the end, you and Pigsy were somehow captured and brought to the deity of the area. Some water deity you didn't care to remember the name of who had the demons that kidnapped you under his control.

Sacrifices? You thought to yourself. With my luck, probably worse. Ugh, Wukong's gonna throw a tantrum.

“Hey, big sis,” Pigsy's voice broke you out of your state. 

“Quiet, pork chop! Who gave you permission to speak to the goddess?!” one of the guards poked him in the behind with their spear, which made him cry out.

“Goddess?” you and Pigsy questioned then looked at each other and back to the male.

Guess that explains why he's tied up, but I'm not… This is already so exhausting. You sighed to yourself. Yep, this is worse than a sacrifice…

“Brother Monkey is gonna kill me,”

“You're at fault, you slob, you seriously couldn't have handled this? You've fought armies by yourself!” you whisper yelled.

“I didn't see you do anything but running away and hiding!” he whisper-yelled back. 

“I'm not a fighter! My entire life in the Celestial Realm was lived cooped up with archives and medicinal herbs. I'm the brains in this team and the rest if you are the brawn!”

____________________________

Wukong sneezed three times in a row as he jumped off of his cloud. He shook his head and attempted to clear the ringing in his ears.

“Big brother,” Wujing’s voice got his attention.

“Where's (Y/n)?” he immediately questioned as he looked around for you.

He also noticed Pigsy's absence, but he was only focused on yours. He was relaxed and casual till he saw the look on Wujing's face. Seeing the demon squirm like that made Wukong uneasy, and he knew that his gut feeling telling him you were in danger was right.

“Um…” Wujing looked incredibly nervous as the Monkey King approached him with narrowed eyes. 

“What.happened?” Wukong questioned in a growl.

“They were kidnapped, (Y/n) and Pigsy,”

“By who?” Wujing didn't like how calm Wukong was at the moment, it never ended well. 

“Demons… We were ambushed and they were taken,”

“Which way did they go?”

____________________________

“My great goddess,” a foreign voice boomed like thunder, the male's arms spread wide to present himself with extravagance. 

The game of ‘Spot the Boss’ just keeps getting easier and easier… you mused to yourself, but managed to keep a straight face.

“My name is Bolin Aiguo,” the male’s voice brought you back to reality. “I welcome you to my palace.”

“Um… thanks?” you asked more than said.

“Destiny has truly blessed us today,” he grinned as he bowed slightly. “We have waited centuries for your return,” he said and motioned to the wall where a cloth was dropped.

“Heh?” you both looked at the painting on the wall and your jaw dropped. 

Is this real? You thought as you saw the picture of a woman who looked like you, but wore garments of a divine goddess. Could it just be a coincidence? Maybe the unlikely chance that’s my ancestor?

“Whoa, that looks just like you,” Pigsy's marvel made you roll your eyes and sighed heavily. 

“Your sense of perception is exquisite as always,” you said sarcastically as you looked at him. He returned your gaze with a glare, which got him hit in the back with a whip. You winced at the sound of leather on skin, it gave you goosebumps and chills, the bad kind. 

“Don't you dare gaze at our goddess like that, you disgusting pig,” the guard that whipped him spat, literally, at the pig demon. 

“Do not speak to him like that,” you said without thinking. You and Wukong were the only ones allowed to bad talk Pigsy to his face like that.

“Forgive me, my goddess (Y/n), your servant needed to be punished,” the male bowed. 

They know my name? What in the ten worlds is going on? This is getting a bit scary now… Wait, did they call him my servant?

“Um…” you glanced around. “I address my servants directly, no one is allowed to speak to my underlings that way.”

“You are such a caring Goddess,” the men marvelled, then bowed. “Very well, if that is what you wish, then that is what will be.”

“Good,” your voice broke, but you didn't think they noticed. 

“Goddess, I am General Hàoyú,”

“Hm,”

“I'm Mùchén, it's a pleasure to meet you,” the guard who struck Pigsy bowed.

“The pleasure’s mine,” you smiled as politely as you could.

“Please, allow the maids to show you to your room,” Bolin gestured to four maids who stood at the ready, “I've prepared proper clothing for you.”

Not good. Really wished this was a sacrifice situation right now…

“Unnecessary,”

“I insist,” he looked at you then bowed. “It would be my honour if you did.”

“I-” you cut yourself off when you saw Pigsy trying not to laugh, it irked you. “Please see that my servant be treated with respect and cleaned up as well,” you smiled, which made the pig demon stop laughing to himself and boy was he pale.

“Yes, of course, Goddess!”

“I'm gonna hurt you,” Pigsy seethed.

“Who's laughing now, porky?” you smirked as you walked past him.

The outfit they made you wear was one similar to what ‘you’ were wearing in the painting. It wasn't exactly your colour or style, yet it looked amazing on you, curves and all. The stylists that did your hair tried so hard to hide their disgust in doing your hair, obviously your hair that hadn't been washed in three or so weeks wasn't to their liking. Despite Wukong’s excessive grooming, nothing beats a good soak in scented oils and natural hair products. You coil get used to the godly treatment.  

When you were reunited with Pigsy, he was amazed at your change, not really believing it was you at first. You, however, tried oh so hard not to laugh at the state of the pig demon. He looked prim, proper, and clean despite still looking like a servant. It was definitely an improvement to say the least… you cringed at the thought that he might actually look borderline adorable. 

“Are your servant’s garments not to your liking, goddess?” Mùchén asked.

“They're fine, thank you,” you managed a smile. “If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to my servant alone.”

“Of course,” the guard bowed, and they all left.

“You clean up nice,” you snorted as you walked to look out your window. 

“Shut up,”

“By gods, this place is locked up tight,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Escaping subtly is out of the question. You might be able to escape and get the others if you shape-shift, but seeing those wolf demons they have stationed along the border, I doubt you'd get far without being caught.”

“These clothes are so stuffy, how could people dress like this everyday?” Pigsy complained.

“Try wearing one of these, then you can complain,” you adjusted the cloth that was tied tightly and securely around your abdomen. “This dress thing is getting so annoying,”

“At least you get treated like a god, I'm just some servant!”

“It suits you,” you smirked and looked at Pigsy before you looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Ugh, I can't wait to get this stuff off my face, so itchy…”

“What do we do, big sis?”

“Bid our time,” you looked at Pigsy. “Wukong will find us soon, we just have to hold out till then.”

“But who knows when brother monkey will be back, you know he takes forever,”

“Believe me,” you stared off into space. “He already knows… he always does somehow.”

Before Pigsy could respond, someone walked into the room, you both mentally groaned when Bolin walked in. 

What does this hard case want? You thought to yourself.

“You look even more extravagant than I thought you would…” he marvelled, you couldn't help but blush at such a compliment.

“Don't you know it’s impolite to barge into a lady’s room?” you raised a brow.

“Forgive me,” he chuckled and bowed, offering to take your hand. “I was simply hoping to invite you to have dinner with me.”

Making it seem like I have a choice, how polite. You thought to yourself with a soft sigh. 

“I'd be honoured,” you forced a smile.

“The honour is mine,” he smiled at you, looking at you like he was hungry. 

“Did I hear food? I'm starving!”

Are you ever not? You thought to yourself in annoyance.

“Not for you, you disgusting creature,” he glared at Pigsy like he was scum. You didn't notice this, but your hand twitched slightly. You simply cleared your throat to steal his attention, which wasn't hard to do. “Please follow me.”

“Happy too,” you forced a natural smile.

____________________________

“Just one bite,” Pigsy continued to drool over the large assortment of food and drink served to you.

“Leave me be,” you shot him a glance then focused on your fish.

“Dear Goddess, c'mon, don't hog all the food for yourself,” he begged.

Pig knows how to beg when his stomach is concerned, I'll give him that much. You thought to yourself.

“Ironic coming from a gluttonous pig,” you barely spared Pigsy another glance before you smiled a bit. “Why don't you be a good servant and perform for me since you're so hungry,” you tilted your head, “after all, a meal tastes so much better when you worked hard for it.”

“I couldn't have said it better myself,” Bolin smiled at you, a smile that gave you the bad kind of chills. He frowned and looked at Pigsy. “You heard the goddess, what are you waiting for?”

This is gonna be good… you tried to hide the smirk. Suddenly, a chill ran down your spine and the feeling of being watched returned. Wukong? You thought to yourself, but after a few seconds passed with no sign of chaos, you guessed you were wrong.

“Where is he already?” you sighed softly to yourself.

“What was that, your grace?” you looked at Bolin and sat straighter.

“Nothing!” you smiled nervously, hoping he didn't hear you.

Maybe it was a bit cruel on your part to make Pigsy dance for your entertainment… but you didn't care. The entire situation was his fault, well, partially. Perhaps it was due to the lack of challenging fights that the two got a bit sloppy, either way… watching Pigsy dance was utterly hilarious, and you wished Wukong was there to laugh with you.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my dearest goddess?” you glanced at Bolin and closed your eyes briefly before you focused on your food.

“It has been entertaining to say the least,” you managed a smile, “overall, you have been an excellent host.”

“I'm so happy to hear you say that, goddess,” he mused and lifted his glass a bit. “Shall our days be like this one.”

“Pardon?” you looked at him, almost choking on your fish.

“You are to be my wife,” he smiled at you. “It is as prophecy has written, your return merits the marriage to the head of the palace, which is me.”

“I don't know about that, I am not interested in marriage,” you responded.

Especially not with you. You thought to yourself as the maid refilled your cup.

“I can wait, it is no trouble. You are worth it after all,” he said as you focused on your drink. 

“Hmmm… this drink is sweet, I really like it,” you looked at the red liquid in the chalice as you swirled it around.

“I'm glad you like it,” Bolin smiled. 

“What is it? I've never tasted anything like it,” you looked up at him curiously. 

Wukong isn't much of a sweet taste guy, I wonder if he’d like it… you found yourself drifting off to the thought of Wukong.  

“Nothing special,” he looked at his drink as he swirled it around as well, taking his time before he answered, “just a love potion.”

The words put Pigsy in a panic, not knowing what Wukong would do if he saw his beloved (Y/n) under the influence of a love potion with some random water deity who thinks you a goddess.

Did I seriously just get drugged? Is that way the taste is sweeter than before? That cocky bastard, what is he planning? You thought to yourself in a slight daze, but it only lasted a second longer before you got your senses back.

“A love potion?” you snorted, which took them both aback. “Are you truly that desperate to have me for yourself?”

“W-Why aren't you affected?” He stood up and backed away. “What are you?”

“Oh, you poor sweetheart… Love potions are meant to make you fall in love with the first person you see…” You stood and fixed your sleeves a bit before you looked up at the male in amusement. “But don't you know it doesn't work on someone who's already in love.”

“Impossible!” he barked. 

“I grow tired of this… we'll be leaving now,” you spoke, only glancing at Pigsy, who nodded and followed you. 

“Big sis, is that true?”

“Yeah, crazy right?” you spoke. “I read it in this book that I found, but I didn't believe it till now.”

“You cannot! You are our goddess!” he yelled.

“I regret to inform you that I am no God,” you called over your shoulder. 

“You are to be mine! It is destiny!” he yelled. You would've felt bad for the guy if he hadn't kidnapped and fed you a love potion, even if it tasted amazing.

“My love belongs to only one person… And you're not even half as good-looking as he is,” you folded your arms… The thought of Wukong started to make your insides feel warm and made you feel… weird. Especially when you thought of that smile/smirk you loved oh so much.

Is this what being drunk feels like? You thought to yourself before your focus was taken by the man child throwing a tantrum.

“I will slay this peasant!” he snapped. 

“You can try,” you looked up and smiled at the glaring monkey on his cloud, “but I don't think he's in the mood to humour you.”

“Sun Wukong?!”

“Who gave you permission to say my name?!”

Both you and Pigsy winced as Wukong beat the guy sound and proper. Pigsy knew that he was gonna get beat to a pulp too once Wukong was finished with the audacious bastard.

“See?” you looked at Pigsy warily. “I told you he'd find us soon…”

“Uh huh…” it was quite obvious that Pigsy was scared as Wukong was quick in finishing the deity and his men. Typical man, all show, no go… you thought to yourself before looking at Wukong as he wiped some blood off of his face. This shouldn't be hot… but it really is.

“So unfair…” you mumbled to yourself.

“Pft-” he eyed you, now it was your turn to glare.

“Shut up,” you folded your arms and looked away, but he forced you to look at him. 

“This look suits you well,” he leaned in and kissed you softly. “My beautiful goddess.”

“So you're not mad?” you peeked up at him.

“Furious,” he seethed, but caressed your cheek as he exhaled through his nose and smiled a bit, “but seeing you dressed like this… No man or demon could dare.”

“You sweet talker,” you managed a smile.

“I'm glad I'm the love of your life,” he winked with a smirk, which made you blush profusely.

“Exactly how long have you been watching?” you asked nervously. 

“Since you made Pigsy dance like an idiot, it was kinda funny,” he mused. 

So I guess I was right, Wukong was the one watching me.

“You were probably seething seeing that man hold me like that,” you smirked up at him.

“You know me well,” he nuzzled your cheek, “but today made me realize something.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You're mine and that's how it should be,” he kissed your forehead. “You are mine, (Y/n). As I am yours.”

“Such a way with words…” You stroked the right side of his face. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. “True love can never be replaced or forgotten,” he looked at you. “When we collect the scrolls, and our quest is done… I wanna be immortal,” you cupped his cheek. “I want to be with you, the love of my life, for the rest of my existence and beyond that.”

“Sounds like a proposal,” he smiled a bit. 

“It's the same thing,” you smiled. 

“So be it,” He smirked before he leaned in and kissed you softly.

“Handsome…”

“Hm?” He looked at you as you rubbed your cheek against his chest. “You okay?”

“The love potion is taking effect,” you looked up with heart-shaped pupils. “My body feels hot…” You said as you got goosebumps.

“Not to ruin your couple moment, but we gotta get going!” You both pulled back and glared at the pig demon.

Damn it, Pigsy. Shut up for once. You both thought at the same time.

____________________________

Masterlist | Next--->

[love-anddeepression]

Feel free to ignore this, but I saw you want Miguel requests soooo.

Platonic Miguel x teen spider reader. Preferably gn. And like, he sees his daughter in the reader or smth, idk how to explain it, but I think it would be cute to see it

ONGOSH THANK YOU I absolutely love this<33 I wrote this on my phone but Im honestly so hyped up I love father figure!miguel. I hope you don’t mind but I’m doing this in the form of headcanons.

Miguel O’Hara x teen!spider!Reader

-okay so your obviously one of the only people Miguel loves tolerates.

-your universe isn’t “home” to you, Miguel is. He’s like the father you never had and at first, the both of you absolutely detested one and other. In fact, Jessica was the one who convinced him to recruit you, way before Gwen or even Peter came into the picture.

-at first, he was stand-offish and a total dickhead to you, but slowly warmed up and began to humour you. He’d smirk at your horrible jokes and pretend to roll his eyes when you teased him.

-in fact, when you first laughed your ass off at one of his remarks, something in him knew that he’d do anything to protect you.

-he already lost one daughter, he wasn’t losing you.

-In all honesty, your relationship is very similar to Joel and Ellie from the Last of Us.

-you have inside jokes that even Lyla doesn’t understand, and she’s an AI.

-It takes all his strength to not snort when you make faces behind someone’s back, he knows you do it to make him laugh.

-he gives you tips on how to take care of yourself.

-a whole bottle of baby powder suddenly appears in your room in spider society. He says he knows nothing.

-lyla shows you the camera footage of him placing it on your bedside table.

-he’s close to tears when you specially make him empanadas. He’d been in a bad mood and when he went to his desk, there was a plate of empanadas with a post it note from you.

- “dont waste them I spent like two hoursmaking them for you”

-he scarfs them down of course.

-like all fathers, he can be strict sometimes, especially because you’re a kid. He doesn’t want you getting hurt. If you’re hurt he helps patch you up himself.

-“you fucking crazy? What were you thinking, trying to catch a car instead of dodging it?”

-your arguments are shushed by him shoving a spoon of soup into your mouth.

-“don’t waste it.” He says, “I spent some time making it while you were asleep.”

-he can’t pinpoint an exact moment from when he started seeing you as his daughter, but it’s probably from the time he got super protective around hobie.

-ain’t no kid coming near his daughter.

-almost snarls when hobie jokingly flirts with you.

-he subtly pushes hobie away when the guy walks behind you.

-you’re the only person other than lyla who can snark him and get away with it without an insult being jabbed at you.

-he’s hugged you a total of two times.

-the first was when you almost died, the second was when he almost died and you freaked out.

-you’d already lost your family, you could not lose him too.

“Miguel, get up.” You tearfully say to his sleeping form, “I can’t do this without you.”

-when he’d stirred, the first thing he saw was your shocked face and then you tackled him.

-he loves you. Like, a whole lot.

-he smiles at you when you walk around in his office, rambling about random stuff. He’s glad that you’re comfortable enough around him to stop masking your personality.

-his jokes are LAME. Like dad jokes are his jam and they’re just so bad.

-“why do sharks live in salt water? because pepper water makes them sneeze.” “Miguel PLEASE-”

-did I mention he’d probably die for you? Like fuck the universe(s) he’s not losing his baby daughter again.

-OOO IMAGINE THE BOTH OF YOU AS DRACULA AND MAVIS

-it’s weird but it’s funny.

-Gwen loses her shit when she sees you sitting next to him with your head on his shoulder.

[mallowsweetmiri]

Bestfriend!Marauders with no boundaries accidentally make you sick and take care of you

some comfort fluff marauders content because the election is actually giving me existential dread and anxiety lol.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

There was nothing worse than getting sick. Actually, there was something worse. There was your best friends testing out an experimental prank, which resulted in a magical fungus puffing you with its spores, that led to you developing a serious cold. And the worst part is, they begged you not to go to the hospital wing.

"We're so sorry Y/N," James frowned, covering his face with his shirt and brushing the specks off of your hair.

"Please, forgive us," Sirius pleaded, also covering his mouth from the spores. "But you can't tell Madam Pomfrey. She'll give us another month of detention and we have something big planned next month." You coughed through the dissipating cloud and sneezed before glaring daggers at Sirius.

"Why can't I just tell her I ran into this thing outside? I won't mention you dreadful lot," you grumbled, pushing James' hand away from your hair and doing it yourself. He frowned even more and stepped back with his eyes on his feet.

"Well, the thing is," Peter chuckled nervously, "there technically wouldn't be any of those around the grounds. Because, well, it's not exactly, legal, per se." Peter finished off his rambling and looked at anything but you. You whined in frustration and sneezed again. These idiots had somehow acquired an off the market plant in order to pull off god knows what kind of prank. It was only your luck that you would be walking into the room just as Peter was exiting with the plant, causing a collision that ended with spores being dispersed directly into your sinuses. Remus could see your frustration at their idiocracy and stepped forward, although he was still covering his mouth with his shirt.

"Dove, I know you're upset, and you should be. It was very irresponsible for us to have that in the dorm at all, " Remus raised his brows and looked at the three boys behind him. They all nodded their heads in shame. "And you're being such an angel by not going to the hospital wing," He looked back at them again and the three boys nodded fervently, mumbling praises and compliments to you. "So let us take care of you, Y/N. I promise we'll make it up to you." You could almost see his charming smile through his shirt and you rolled your eyes in defeat. James' smile spread all the way to his eyes as he enthusiastically stepped forward.

"Yes, just let us take care of you," he grinned, grabbing your elbow with his free hand and guiding to you the door. "First order of business, airing out this room so we don't all get sick. Let's go get some fresh air while Pete and Sirius clean things up in here." There were sounds of protest but James was already leading you down the stairs, continuing to dust any residue off of your hair and shirt. Remus followed behind, fanning out the trail of dust James was leaving. Once the three of you finally reached the common room, James sat you down on a couch and promptly removed his "mask" beginning to feel your forehead and cheeks.

"Okay, okay," you chuckled, gently moving his doting hands off your face. "I'm not that sick. I've only got a little cough and sniffles." James looked back at Remus with deep concern, which Remus returned. Your eyebrows furrowed together.

"Well, dove. Peter actually said that the spore would make the victim extremely ill. Fever, congestion, and a terrible cough," Remus said compassionately, giving you a look of pity as he rested his hand on your leg to break the news. You looked at him with exasperation as you let out a cry which subsequently made you cough. James let out a huff of sadness as he moved to embrace you into his lap, swaying you as you groaned at your circumstances.

"We're so sorry, Y/N," James whispered, petting your hair with his hand. He then looked up to Remus and added, "I hope it's not contagious."

Within the next twenty minutes of waiting for Sirius and Peter, you got significantly worse. At first it was the sneezing, but soon your body fell into terrible chills. Remus got you water and helped you drink while James had taken off his sweatshirt and promptly placed it over you, the material swallowing your frame. By the time Sirius bounded down the stairs to tell you the room was clean, you had snot blocking your airways. James didn't say a word as he scooped you up and carried you up the stairs.

"Is she doing okay?" Sirius asked, his voice dripping in concern as he peeked over James shoulder to catch a glimpse of you. Remus shook his head and pat Sirius on the back as they followed you to the dorm. James placed you in his bed, where Peter was already fluffing up the pillows and opening the covers for you to slip under.

"Oh, Y/N," Peter murmured, tucking your body under the covers and fussing with the pillows. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so careless. This was a terrible, terrible idea." You shook your head and placed you hand on his arm to stop him.

"No," you croaked, pausing to clear your throat, "It's okay Peter. What's done is done. Could you maybe bring me some tea and biscuits, please?" You gave him puppy eyes, but you hardly think you needed them. Peter was already halfway out the door and on his way to the kitchens. Remus went to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth, and both Sirius and James took seats on the edge of the bed. James lightly massaged your temples, causing you to sigh in relief. You could feel Sirius pouting and he looked severely distraught, almost to the point of tears.

"Siri," you sniffled, reaching out for his hand. He grabbed it gently and let out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whimpered. You shushed him and squeeze his hand.

"Siri, it's okay. You don't have to apologize for anything. It was an accident," you reassured him. He nodded but looked away from you. You were certain he was crying, and you knew it had to do with his remaining guilt of the prank™. Before you could sit up to comfort him further, his form shifted to Padfoot, and he quietly nuzzled his way into your lap, rubbing his snout gently into your chest. You huffed out a smile and relaxed into the bed, looking up at James who had a light smile on his face. Remus came back and placed the damp washcloth on your head.

"Hey, Pads," Remus whispered as he pat the dog on his head. Padfoot huffed but remained with his head on your chest, your hand stroking him rhythmically. James did the same but to your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he watched with concern for any signs of discomfort. After a while, Remus had settled in his bed next to yours, reading a book quietly as Sirius and James stayed on your bed, both in an attempt to comfort you. It was quite working, and after a few minutes, you were dozing off to sleep. It was unfortunate that your body jolted awake after choking on a wet cough. You startled Padfoot as your body jolted up, followed by a honking cough that cut through your throat. You groaned as you head pounded with pressure.

"Water," you croaked, scrambling to sit up. Sirius jumped off the bed and transformed quickly, coming forward to help you sit up.

"Oh, darling," Sirius cooed, using his hands to shift your body into a sitting position. He took the water from Remus and brought it your mouth slowly. You cautiously took a sip and let out a sigh of relief. You went in for a second sip but your lungs had other plans, sputtering up a cough as you tried to sip. This caused all three boys to instantly take the water away and begin doting over you, patting your back and wiping the water off your chin. Peter entered the room to the chaotic scene.

"Oh merlin," Peter said hurriedly, setting his tray down on the bedside table. You waved your hands as you went through your fit of coughing.

"I'm fine," you swallowed, laying back against the headboard. You heard sighs as the boys bodies slouched in relief. "Biscuits?" you smiled sheepishly, only mildly embarrassed of the disgusting noises you had been making. Peter grinned and brought them over to you.

"M'lady," he held the tray out for you to take one. As you reached for one to bring to your mouth, Remus tutted.

"Slowly," he said with a warning brow raised. You rolled your eyes and brought the cookie to your open mouth at a comedically slow speed, causing Sirius and James to sputter down a laugh. Remus rolled his eyes right back but smiled when you finally bit into the cookie. Not a single boy left your side as they continued to feed you tea and cookies until the plate was empty. You let out a yawn and had James instantly at his trunk.

"I'm going to wrap you up now," James said, matter of factly as he brought a blanket towards you. "Time for sleep." You tried to protest but your body betrayed you as another yawn met your lips. James hummed as he wrapped the blanket around you, using his sheer strength to lift you body and place you back into a laying position as if you were a doll. At some point, Padfoot had gone back to dog form and was once again nuzzle his way next to your body. You gladly patted his ears as he settled down, and closed your eyes as James leant down to kiss your forehead. Remus began to close the bed shades as Peter took the now finished food tray away.

"Sleep well, Y/N," Remus whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Just tap Padfoot if you need something," James smiled, closing the curtains on his side. "Merlin, that is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Thanks boys," you murmured as darkness swept over the bed. You let out a sigh of content as you gently pet Padfoot. Maybe being sick wasn't the worst thing in the world after all.

[weebsinstash]

I know you mentioned that you aren't a big fan of pregnancy AU stuff in Hazbin, but hear me out...

Imagine Yandere Valentino getting his Darling pregnant to have a living bargaining chip to make sure she doesn't even try to leave him

New idea. What if the only people who can procreate in Hell are red string soulmates, or, it's like akin to ABO in the sense that not everyone or every combo of people could create a baby.

I was thinking about a yandere Valentino who has Reader as his red string soulmate whatever and you run away after seeing how truly abusive he is to other people, worrying for your own safety, and you're missing for like a straight year before Valentino finds out where you are, and... he's all but KICKING DOWN the door of your apartment, and he's looking at you like a hungry predator ready to pounce on you, cornering you, and

a baby starts crying from the other room and you're SPRINTING to the noise and Valentino finds you defensively holding a little bundle to your chest, growling snarling baring fangs holding a knife whatever at him, and Valentino thinks you adopted some other man's kid, some little imp bastard or something, and he's furious, he's raising his voice, he's getting closer, he's-

making perfect eye contact with a little tiny baby replica of himself as it turns to look at him with its big red eyes and chubby cheeks and fat arms and. It takes Val a few seconds to process it. The baby looks right at him and is whimpering and gurgling, upset, but doesn't cry. The baby boy sneezes and his antenna flip back and forth. He's got lil hearts in his fur and his teeny antenna are already so fluffy.

'Oh but aren't baby moths technically caterpillars--' shut the fuck up, you're demons and also that would be ugly as fuck. You want to give birth to a 20 armed baby or something. No. We save the truly inhuman babies for the human x monster/alien/whatever prompts. Your baby comes out a mini mothperson and it's fluffy and chubby and fucking adorable and also shut up

Val is just, SMITTEN, the narcissism is turned up to 100, he's rapid cycling emotions, "*GASPING* OUR BABY IS SO FUCKING CUTE, WHAT THE FUCK, I WANT TO HOLD HIM" "So I knocked you up good huh 😏" "*already on the phone in a group call with the other Vees and taking 200 pictures* you should see this thing, he looks just like me, can you even believe that, I can already tell he's gonna be so handsome and successful cuz he's MY son" "aw, amorcito did you think you needed to run away to protect our baby because I have so many enemies? You're such a good mama ❤️❤️❤️"

You spend like MONTHS lovingly protecting and sheltering your child until he's a healthy giggling little chubroll and Val has him for like two days and suddenly your baby has his ears pierced with diamonds in them and Valentino is walking around in his high heels and slutty bodysuits with your son in a papoose cuddled into his chest fur. You're holding your sleeping son while Val is beside you and someone sneezes across the room and the baby stirs and here's Valentino, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MY SON IS SLEEPING", like, NOT ANYMORE YOU DUMB JACKASS???

'Oh gee why is Valentino suddenly funding and producing more erotic films involving moms and breeding and pregnant people and lactation-' you fucking know why and honestly I think it'd be SO FUNNY if he's like, "oh yeah, don't worry, I want you on birth control too mami. I missed fucking you and I kinda wanna do a lot of that without worrying about another little niño or two. At least not for a while :)"

Valentino on the red carpet being his cunty fashionable self while his baby is in a sling and they're both wearing matching outfits. Your baby boy has a tiny iced-up watch that's worth more than the entire building you were living in before his father found you. Your "husband" is posing half-naked with your baby on the cover of Demon Playboy which he owns, "HELL'S HOTTEST NEW DILF" like I COULD NOT WITH THIS MAN

And obviously he's got new kinks now that you're a mom and he absolutely fucks the hell out of you to the point you would get pregnant again without the birth control 😳 valentino on some real "is this the milk you've been feeding my baby with, let me try some" type stuff where he's milking you dry during his bang sesh and your son has to have formula that night because your tank is EMPTY 💀 YOU'RE A RAISIN LIKE THAT SCENE FROM SCOOBY DOO ZOMBIE ISLAND--

God. I've read horror stories about women getting pregnant again even WHILE being on multiple types of birth control so, then you get knocked up again Because Of Course You Would, You're Taking More Creampies Than A Professional Rodeo Clown, and what does Valentino say? "Fuck it, I wanna keep it! I can't just MURK my baby after it beat the odds, that's so ME!" And now you're having twin girls 💀💀💀 who knows, maybe having some daughters would teach Valentino to actually respect women--

I feel like you would wake up one morning and be genuinely hysterical because your baby is missing and you can't get in contact with Valentino and you're freaking out at the absolute highest level and it turned out to be some dumb shit like Val just took your son along with him for THE ENTIRE DAY and didn't think of mentioning it to you because "but you were needing a break and we were bonding, mami. We were having our guy time. I was leaving for work and he looked at me and he SMILED AT ME. What the fuck was i supposed to do, I couldn't just LEAVE HIM, he wanted his papi"

Of course, all these ideas hinge on the concept of Valentino actually caring for his baby. He could still genuinely use it as a tool against you. You're out running errands and suddenly you're getting a call. It's Valentino. He wants you to come home; you left the baby with Kitty so you could go out for a little while for some 'you time' since you've been trapped at home hiding ever since you ran from him before learning you were pregnant. It's not even about you leaving the baby with a nanny; it's about you not being home when Valentino came to visit you and him being uncomfortable not knowing exactly where you are and exactly what you're doing

Well, you got a little smart with him. You've just spent the last about 11 months living through hell with your pregnancy and hiding; you deserve to get some fresh air and walk out on the town and--- in the middle of you lecturing him you can just hear your baby making baby noises through the phone and Valentino just adopts this... tone in his voice, "amorcito, I came to spend time with you and our little frijolito and you're not heeee~ere. You know I can have trouble concentrating when I've had a few drinks and, earlier i dropped my phone on accident and i thought 'oh, it's good i wasn't holding something important"

You're home within 20 minutes and Valentino is cuddling into you while he puts some garbage on TV and pretends not to notice how you're trembling as you hold your son and send the occasional wary glance his father's way...

[mamayan]

Psp psp 👀 genya thirsts please? 🤲

Nonnie I’m literally full of them of course— I personally see Genya as a switch so we’ll be playing around with that here (even though I adore him as a submissive too).

Genya Shinazugawa Thirsts ★彡

cw: NSFW • Fluff • Genya HC • A lil angst • GN! Reader • Praise Kink • Suggestive Themes • Oral mentioned • Switch! Genya (not really Dom, more pleasure top at best tbh) • Slightly Top!/Switch! Reader

Genya isn’t shy in the traditional sense. He’s not afraid of being the one to confess his love first, or even being rejected.

Problem is, he expects to be rejected. He’s understanding of it even. His own perception of self worth revolves around his ability to be useful, and while he’s proud to call himself a Demon Slayer, he finds himself lacking as a man a lot of the time.

He looks up to Sanemi and adores him a great deal, but doesn’t use him as a role model for love and expressing it. Instead he looks at Gyomei, a gentle and pious man who gives advice like “write a love poem from the depths of your heart.”

So when Genya confesses and he’s not rejected? He’s the sort to follow advice given to the letter, which makes for comically awkward and tender approaches.

Genya will present you with flowers, carefully arranged, but he knows nothing of flowers, so you’ll be sneezing immediately. They’re super pollen filled and smell obnoxious, but your heart will be full from the thought and effort alone. He apologizes profusely. Then will come the love letters, but as a Shinazugawa, the words of love will boarder on threats. “My heart burns when I see you, so much love fills me that I feel it may be the end for me in your presence.” You’ll wonder if he’s joking or has a heart condition. He knows he’s got a mean and scary looking face, many have told him so, and to remedy that… he will even wear makeup to make himself look less scary! (This may have been pointed out by Inosuke, his heart in the right place but the end results more for humor than anything). It’s too late by the time Tanjiro comes to rescue his friend, you’re in tears laughing at the clown his friends turned him into. It works on making him less scary to you though—

He’ll relax eventually, but he’s stiff and terrified of making even the smallest mistake… and the end result of that is making tons of mistakes. Once he realizes he can truly be himself, he’s the sweetest most devoted man you could ask for. He’s less prickly than his older brother, more ready to fall head first into the love jar with you. He’s a sap, truly seeing you as an angel who can do no wrong.

When it comes to being physical, he loves pda. Except, he likes it most when you show it. He’s constantly being rejected publicly or privately by his dearest elder brother, so when you show claim over him? It makes him ecstatic! Throw an arm around his waist, hold his hand, hug him, kiss him even. Show the world he belongs to you. It makes him melt into a puddle. He’ll even get a little smug if you do it in front of his friends, smirking even as his face goes molten red. He’ll pass away if you sit on his lap though, be careful of his weak heart. Tough exterior doesn’t translate to inside unfortunately.

Genya is a gentleman despite his rough appearance, he’s waiting on you to make all the first moves. He’s asking permission and consent constantly thereafter, and he’s very keen on your body language. You’ll have to ignore his body language when he tells you to, because despite his wishes he tenses up and freezes sometimes when he gets embarrassed. It takes a little for him to relax after that happens, just keep kissing him please, he’ll beg if he has to.

That’s how it’s like with deeper intimacy too, Genya becomes whiny and shy, stuttering and a bit foolish. He’s just desperate for you, make no mistake about it. He’s got good control though, holding still when you tell him, being very good for you. Use him for your pleasure, he really does insist. Genya’s favorite positions are any he can see you in, more specifically when you ride him.

He derives pleasure from you being pleased, so with oral he prefers to give rather than receive. Not that he doesn’t like receiving, your mouth on his cock leaves him a drooling mess, but Genya can find his end just by giving you head. Hearing you moan and cry for him makes him delirious with happiness, so use his Mohawk like a handle and hold on tight.

While Genya is giver, he does have a few triggers which set off a more dominant side of him. He can’t help himself honestly… usually it’s jealously. If someone else is flirting with you it riles him up. He gets more brash and mean, not towards you of course, but he does try and fight them quite readily. It leaves him insecure after too, afraid you’ll see his flaws and weakness and leave him.

So when you don’t, and when you comfort him, he just needs you.

Whining into your mouth how much he loves you, all while his hips pound you into the bed and you cum again. He’s fucking you stupid and not even on purpose, he’s just overcome with emotion he needs to let out, and what better way than to make love to you? Even if that love making turns into a sloppy fucking with your cute face pressed down and hips yanked high so he can kiss you inside a little deeper. He’s crying your name while he fills you up, and he really can’t help how his cock stays hard even after, thrusting again inside you soon after while you mewl and try to crawl away from all the pleasure and overstimulation.

He’s yanking you easily back onto his cock, head thrown back as he mindlessly babbles praises for you. “Ah fuck—so good on my cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good—l-love you, I love you—!” You’re too fucked out to do much else but cum for him, eyes watery and helpless as he shows you how much he loves you. Enjoy the stamina of Genya Shinazugawa, he’s got endless energy. He’ll fuck you till he’s shooting blanks.

He’s so sweet after too, kissing and holding you, profusely apologizing of course because you passed out eventually, and thanking you too for making him feel so good. He’s running around heating up a bath, bringing you sweets or whatever you crave. He goes right back to your sweet ‘Nya once he’s secure in his heart again.

Feel free to take revenge after too. He won’t admit it until he’s denied his fourth or fifth orgasm, but he adores when you take charge and top him. Play away to your heart’s desire, Genya is able to take all you give him, like the good boy he is. Panting like a dog after you curb his orgasm again, his body tied up and spread for you to do whatever you please. He’ll cry, sob even, for release. Begging his master for mercy, while you coo and tease him. “Poor puppy, what’s wrong hm? I thought you loved everything I do.” You have him there, because he’ll admit his deepest secrets like this. “I-I do! I love it! T-tease me more, please, master, m-make a mess of me,” he’s adorable like this, obedient and cute all for you. He’ll probably want to die a little if you just leave him like that too, but he’s so cute, you’ll find it hard to just walk away— unless it’s a punishment of course.

Genya is open to most any kink you might have… as long as it doesn’t hurt you. He’s fine if the pain is directed at him, he can take it after all, but he won’t do any breath play, no tight bondage, no whips or chains for you unless you’re the one wielding them, and of course no sharing you. Genya would rather tear someone’s eyes out and light them on fire than let them even see you naked. It makes him feral and enraged immediately. However, the thought of being seen with you doing something to him, makes him wildly aroused.

Genya would never bring it up in a regular conversation, but he’s got a small exhibition kink. If he were the one to been seen tied up and naked with you playing with him? He may just cum immediately. It ties into you claiming him too, showing how much he is to you, who he belongs to.

Genya also has a praise kink. It works both ways too, he wants to be praised and praise you too. “Such a good boy Genya, my sweet love, filling me up so good,” his eyes are rolling back, hips stuttering as he begs to cum. “Y-you feel so good—fuck, tight—wanna be inside you forever, feel you wrapped a-around my cock like this till I die—!” He’s losing control when you cum.

Overall Genya is a top tier lover and golden find. He’s loyal, devoted, and filled with adoration to shower on you.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[mlmxreader]

Sickly | Art the Clown x gn!reader

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↳ ❝ Hi! I saw that you wanted to write more for Art?

I saw your sick fic about him and thought it was so cute! Would you maybe consider doing a part two where Art’s in bed (still in his clown costume because he literally sleeps with that thing) with the reader but he can’t sleep because he’s got the sniffles that bad? And his silent sneezes are just pitiful for the reader to watch lol ❞

: ̗̀➛ You resign yourself to a night of devoting yourself to Art whilst he's sick.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, sickness/illness, mentions of murder & gore

↳ Part One: Feverish

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The soft sound of Downton Abbey episodes were playing softly from your television as you did your best to sleep; but with Art beside you, constantly lunging forward and silently sneezing and coughing, it was difficult to get any sort of rest whatsoever.

You didn't know if it was better or worse that he made no sound, but even his harsh movements were enough to constantly justle you.

"Just how long is she here for?" Lady Violet asked her son.

"Who knows?" Came the quiet, mumbled reply of Lord Grantham.

You laughed softly at the exchange, which roused Art to shuffle around as he moved to grasp your attention; he tapped your shoulder, and when you looked at him, he pointed to the box of tissues that laid at the bedside table.

Even in the low light, you could see the snot clinging from his nostril, desperate to make it down to his black stained lips. You winced, immediately grabbing them and pressing the box into his lap; Art nodded in thanks, and roughly, violently, rubbed his nose on the tissue.

You had grown used to the fact that he always wore that fucking clown costume, even when he was lying in bed, but you were slightly less likely to think of a complaint given that he was sick and had been ever since his most recent return.

He didn't leave you as often as he used to, in fact, he hadn't left at all since he had come back to you. It was... odd.

You didn't really know what to think of it, if you were honest - sure, you were glad to spend any time with him without interruption. But you weren't used to having him around so often.

Lingering around you like the smell of rotting meat.

Granted, he did smell a lot cleaner than usual thanks to you; he had access to your shower and all your gels and shampoos and body lotions, and he always copied you when you washed in the morning and again in the evening.

He never exactly smelled fully clean, the metallic scent of blood and rotting meat always clung to him, but he didn't smell rancid like he usually did.

Even his breath smelled better now that you were making him brush his teeth after every meal to ensure that the bits of gooey brain matter and sharp shards of bone didn't get stuck between them and fester.

His teeth were always difficult to brush properly, their long and pointed shape, more akin to a lamprey than anything remotely humanoid, made it extra work to get between them without the bristles breaking immediately.

Art moved again, clutching his ribs as he opened his mouth to cough wetly and roughly, even though not a single sound left him; you felt pity, really. You had never seen him in such awful ways.

You coaxed him to lie down between your legs, the back of his head pressed against your stomach as you gently massaged his scalp. His breathing was slow and shallow, like he was struggling to get any oxygen in at all, and you turned the television up slightly.

Art watched the television, appreciating the monochromatic colour schemes of the gentlemen as much as the staff; their black and white outfits were much like his own, although with a different pattern.

He wondered what they would do if he went and bashed their heads in with all those shiny things in the shelves; the blood splattering all over their walls and carpets and paintings. So many people in one house, he wouldn't have to ask for anything to eat for weeks. Months.

But then the scene opened to a young couple - a brunette woman and a dirty blond man - sharing a bed; the duvet was red, with a white stripe at the top, and the headboard was a dark red colour. It looked a lot like your bed, although yours was green, not red.

He pointed excitedly for a moment, then dramatically sneezed against his sleeve at above the elbow.

"Oh, Art," you hummed softly, patting him gently so he relaxed against you again. "Settle down, too much excitement will make you worse, y'know."

He mocked sulking as he folded his arms across his chest and looked up at you with a stern pout.

Anyone else would have been ripped to shreds and had their brains removed and eaten for such a small action; but he simply sat there, pouting with his arms folded. Glaring at you.

His cold, dead, stare never even irked you anymore, and finding him staring at you in the middle of the night and gently stroking your face was far from unusual; but it was your time, now. Your turn.

You gently stroked his face, tracing all the little details that you cared so much for; that long nose and the line where his skullcap ended and his skin began. The little dot on his nose. The ring of black lipstick, the thin drawn eyebrows. The rings around his eyes with the slits down the middle, carved out of makeup.

He was certainly beautiful and striking to look at; you would never be able to deny that, as even when he was unwell and sick, snot clinging to the tip of his nose and phlegm at the back of his throat, he was still beautiful.

"I'll stay up all night if I have to," you mused kindly, a complete distinction to him. It was a wonder you were ever so close. "I can stay up with you."

Art shook his head, the dribble of snot flapping around from the edge of his nose; he was telling you not to bother, he even scowled and snarled at the thought of you losing sleep. No, no, no.

"It's not a worry," you told him. "Honestly. It's one night, and if it helps you to get better, then I really don't mind."

Art couldn't be bothered to argue, so with a heavy thump of his hand, he grabbed the television remote and turned the volume up a bit more; might as well see if the drama of rich, old timey, English people was better than his usual method of keeping himself entertained.

He doubted it.

hi! thank you so much for reading! if you'd be so kind, I'd like to take just a few more moments of your time. the Baalousha family need funds in order to secure the survival of themselves, but especially their two very small children; they have nothing left in Gaza, and with their home destroyed by Israeli bombs, they are desperate for money to continue to stay alive. so far, they have raised €20739 of their €52000 goal, so if you could spread their story and their fundraiser and even donate, then please, please do.

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch14

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship?

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Thirty Days until D-Day

The city was welcomed with a heavy rain storm that had no end in sight. Umbrellas were no match against the fierce winds and downpour that befell the city. The poor citizens who dared to walk got drenched. It was the beginning of an already dreadful day to many.

Aaron groaned and cussed as he scurried into Alchemax, water dripping from every angle. He sighed in relief as a few of the staff members set up automatic heaters and dryers for the employees. Sometimes there were perks for working for Alchemax.

The company cared more about reputation.

Once he was dry, Aaron made sure to clock in. There, he waited for certain people. Once said people arrived, they all casually walked with each other to the elevator. As they all stood in the elevator, each person handed something small to Aaron.

"Thank you all." He whispered upon leaving with another worker.

"This is risky. Do you even know how to do it?" His coworker asked. Aaron frowned as he spotted you grabbing a file from his boss,

"I'll need to work out the details, but I have an idea." He said before smiling towards you, "(Y/N)! How have you been? Feels like forever,"

"Ah, Aaron, yes it has! Have you been busy?" You asked. Aaron couldn't stop smiling,

"You could say so. A lot of newbies trying to play games on computers has us getting rid of viruses." He said with a chuckle and glanced at the file, "What about you?"

"End of month is tomorrow. Just grabbing all of the paperwork from each department so I can file them all. So...exciting." You said with a soft sigh, "Ah! Speaking of time, I have to grab Miguel's coffee!"

"Be careful, it's pouring outside."

Aaron waved towards you as you ran off in a hurry. You were still ever so kind despite Miguel's interference.

"Still going for the boss' girl? Everyone knows that Miguel probably uses her as a stress relief." Aaron's coworker scoffed, "Ain't no way he would let anyone get that close."

"C'mon. She's his assistant. Miguel's too cold hearted to-"

"Use (Y/N)? How many times did he butt in to your flirting? To you trying to ask her out?"

"Shut up, let's just get back to work. Miguel will have what's coming to him eventually."

---------

You were shivering as you cuddled against Miguel's chest. You were in your underwear, wrapping in a thick blanket as you sat on Miguel's lap in his office. Your clothes were drying in the corner, since Miguel demanded you come up to him in a hurry.

"I told you the coffee could wait," Miguel grumbled as you sneezed.

"Y-You're grumpy...w-without it,"

"At the cost of you getting sick? It can wait. I can always send someone else to get it." Miguel said with a scoff, his arm tightening around your waist, "And you didn't even dry off downstairs."

"Y-You told me to hurry! So I climbed the window," You said with a whine, "Can't...Can't I just wear my spare clothes? This is...embarrassing."

"I've seen you naked already." Miguel said unamused then glanced towards you, "Or did the oh so powerful Spider-Woman want to get sick? To have me care for her?"

"N-No," You said with a pout.

Miguel was so mean when he wanted to be. Watching him chuckle made your heart melt. He can be as mean as he wants, just as long as you get to see him enjoy himself. Cuddling back into his chest, you inhaled, enjoying his cologne.

---------

Miguel waited for you to fall asleep before pulling up his security footage of one of the labs. Miguel had a small team of scientists handling your blood injections towards test subjects. As much as Miguel wished to be there in person, he needed to keep distracting you from the city.

Besides, none of those scientists knew what they were giving to the new test subjects. None of them would live to even tell the tale of Miguel's success.

"Sir, now conducting test subject number eight." One of the scientists spoke to the camera.

Eight.

It took eight attempts so far. There was always something wrong with something. Miguel was getting frustrated, but he had to keep going. This was the only way he could get what he wanted. This was the only way to get his dream.

"Mhpm," You whimpered in your sleep.

Pulling up his calendar, Miguel checked on your ovulation. With a roll of his eyes, Miguel noticed that you were about to start your period. It was right about now that your cramps would start to kick in. As frustrating as it was, this was needed.

By your next ovulation, Miguel will be perfect.

He will finally be able to give you what you've been waiting for.

What he's been waiting for.

But, in the meantime, Miguel had work to do. Ordering some heat pads and chocolate, Miguel made sure to take care of you during your period. You were his perfect trophy. Miguel couldn't have you down in the dumps.

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Twenty Days Until D-Day

Yet again, the rain did not let up. According to the forecast, it was to rain like this for the rest of the week. You were debating on swinging to work, but with this rain...no. You didn't want to end up sick. Miguel would never let you go out again.

"Hm, I need to get to work." You whispered, looking at the time.

Rubbing your arms, you let out a whine as you tried to think. Normally, Miguel would give you a ride, but today he had to arrive to work earlier than normal. Apparently his father had some meetings he wanted Miguel to go too.

"Would Miguel mind if I stay home?"

"He would," Lyla appeared, "Miguel is already showing signs of extreme stress and frustration. Without you, I can conclude that by noon, he might kill someone."

"Oh, Lyla, you jest." You chuckled lowly before stopping, "Miguel won't kill anyone."

But you knew how Miguel got when he was angry. Miguel was never too fond of his own father, especially when dragged to these meetings. Honestly, it was cute. Miguel was like a spoiled child, not wanting to do work.

Leaving your apartment, you sighed as you still wondered how you were going to get to work without getting soaked. It was still Fall in Nueva York, but it felt like winter already to you. Oh, the downside of having Spider DNA.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Need a ride?" Aaron asked, stopping his cab. You gasped, hurrying over,

"Oh! Thank you, Aaron, you're a life savor!"

"Sure," Aaron smiled as he opened the door for you. You shivered slightly when entering, thanking him again, "It's really no problem. Luck even, guess I just happen to pass your place at the right time."

"You sure did."

You hummed happily as you texted Miguel, asking if he wanted his morning coffee. As you were waiting for his reply, you glanced over at Aaron,

"So, it's been...raining a lot. Might be a colder winter than normal."

"So we have to make sure your office is a furnace." He said with a chuckle, "Getting coffee for our dictator today?"

"Ah-" You felt your cheeks flush as you just checked your phone, "Guess not. He won't let me get it when it rains like this. Hehe, Miguel does have his little soft side," You chirped.

Aaron felt his eye twitch, "It's amazing how you can still see the best in him."

"It could be because I'm his assistant?" You tried to dodge the question since no one knew about your relationship with Miguel, "Um, I think everyone just needs to give Miguel a chance. I'm sure-"

"I rather not. If he makes me his errand boy anymore, I might quit." Aaron huffed then glanced at you, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or be sour. We've....just been up to our necks with work."

"It's okay,"

You lowered your head, remaining silent for the rest of the ride. It was hard to express your vision of Miguel to others. Once you arrived, you thanked Aaron again for the lift and hurried inside.

--------

Aaron paid the fair and slowly made his way inside. He watched you from a distance, paying attention to your watch as Lyla appeared. Miguel was always listening to you. He always paid attention to who you were with.

A controlling bastard.

Aaron just smiled as he went to clock in, hoping that Miguel will play the petty game. The only problem about this game Aaron was playing was you getting caught in the fire. Aaron was going to have to make sure you were nowhere near Miguel when he acts.

--------

You stood in front of Miguel's large office window, staring down at the city below. Miguel was still in his meetings, sending you a text here and there about stupid little things. It made you chuckle at some of the nitpicking he was doing.

"Hehe, ew. Miguel must really be bored if he is paying attention to the food stuck in someone's teeth," You giggle.

Glancing at his seat, you bit your lower lip. Miguel was going to be a while until he returned. Stroking your fingers against the arm rest, you let out a soft sigh as you took your seat on his desk. Miguel will be waiting for you.

You had to be a good girl and take your spot.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, Miggy~"

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Next Chapter

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