#her body her humor her bed skills her voice EVERYTHING

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Part 3

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, CNC, dubcon, yandere, murder, abuse, trauma, innocence kink, dacryphilia, smut, masturbation, size kink, p in v, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, manipulation. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 2.7k

K.P. Masterlist

His voice was silky in a way that sent shivers down her spine yet so sarcastic and humorous that he could make her smile and giggle like an airhead until it was beyond embarrassing. He talked with his hands so she learned to watch them more than his mouth, though he equally performed with his lips. The dark and silver rings he started wearing made them more of a spectacle and she fantasized about how his skilled fingers could pleasure and punish her body. 

Whether they were preparing for the eclipse or handling mundane activities, her mind drifted but she tended to keep her daydreams at bay.

Night was entirely another story.

All she had was her stuffed lamb to keep her company. While lamby was a good listener and offered the softest cuddles, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he would feel in her bed. Some nights she fully got off to the thought of him entering her room when he thinks she’s sleeping, feeling the bed dip under his weight, then the ripping of her nightdress from her skin, his strong arms hiking her legs over his shoulders and using her like a fucktoy for his pleasure like the gangsters and brutes would do to the pure damsels in her favorite novels, consumating a twisted romance built on passion and control. Pushing her face into the pillows she tried to quiet her moans but a few would slip free.

He was not only observant but hungry. He noticed everything, how she reacted to him when they were close, her muffled moans through the thin walls that left him throbbing all night, the way she took extra care to style her curls every morning, put on a little extra mascara, and exclusively dressed in flowy dresses and mini skirts. He knew what she wanted but she was too shy to ask for it so he had fun messing with her, breaking her down with his subtle advances until she was just as starved. He was a wolf and she was a fluffy unsuspecting bunny and as much as he craved her tender flesh, he loved the chase. 

One morning, he found her straining on her tiptoes to reach a jar of jam on a high shelf and came up behind her, grabbing it down with ease while caging her small form threateningly, staying there longer than necessary. The lingering proximity made her curse under her breath. His heat and scent intoxicating, lowering her inhibitions enough that her body betrayed her, arching into him. Brushing against his body for the briefest moment, enough to surprise him, making him intake a sharp breath and stiffen. He struggled to regain his composure as she turned and grabbed the jar from his hands with a rushed, “thank you.” 

She couldn’t slip out from under him before he snatched her wrists and pinned her to the marble counter, his primal growl rumbling in her ears.

“You feel that, kitten?” His hips bucked into her, pressing his hard-on against the groove of her ass. She responded with a gasp. “Don’t tell me you thought you were gonna’ grind your cute little ass on me then leave me all hot n’ bothered..”

She scoffed at him, “maybe I was… It’s not like you’re gonna’ do anything about it.” Her defiant body wriggled against him, in turn he snatched a fistful of her curls eliciting a desperate whine from the back of her throat.

“Such a brat.. m’ gonna’ have to fuck that outta’ you, huh?” He reached down, hiking up her skirt, fondling her mound which had grown damp with his teasing. “Always walking around in these tiny skirts, s’ like you’re begging me to ruin you,” he mused as he freed his cock, sliding her panties aside and finally plunging into her silky heat with one brutal thrust. 

“Hey, Kai… uhh Kai?” She pulled him from his mind-consuming fantasy. 

“… huh?” His throat bobbled.

“Can you grab that flour for me too? I’m making puff pastry for breakfast.” He placed the sack of flour on the counter, not taking his eyes off of her. 

“Do you want some?” With her head tilted to look up at him, doe eyes wide and soft lips forming that adorable pout, she looked way too corruptible. His pants strangled him. 

“I’d like that,” he rasped. 

So she started on the pastry while he slipped away to the bathroom where he rubbed one out to the thought of her pretty lips around his cock. 

Sticks crunched beneath their feet along the forest trail as they walked off their breakfast.

“If you could siphon my magic the whole time, why not do the locator spell yourself?” She asked.

Kai faced her, walking backwards a few paces ahead. “I already knew I could do it and since you’re the one who has to do the spell to get us out of here, I needed to make sure you could use your magic.”

“Could you show me?” Her sweet voice sounding small and slightly uncertain, made him stop in his tracks. She stepped toward him, holding out her hand. “I want you to siphon my magic…. It will come back right?” 

“Uh.. yeah. I’ll just take a little bit.” He reached toward her, but paused with a hesitant glance. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nodded with conviction, “Yes, I am.” 

He took her hand and concentrated. An orange glow blossomed to the surface of her skin, accompanied by a tingly feeling like tv static or a limb starting to fall asleep. He released a shaky breath before letting go of her. She touched her hand as the feeling faded.

He knelt down and hovered his palm over a patch of soil, uttering a short spell. Moments later, an white petaled wildflower grew up from the little sprout. He plucked it and handed it to her, tiny goosebumps shot up her arm when their fingers brushed each other.

“You’re really good with magic,” she commented.

“Actually, I was going for a rose, but a daisy is cool too, I guess..” He shrugged. He rubbed his lips together as his eyes took in her sultry mouth. Her perfect cupid’s bow and plump lips that looked edible and oh so tempting. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her brow knit in curiosity.

His eyes flickered down. “I guess I’m kinda nervous.”

“Why?”

“Well- I mean- you’re like- you're really pretty,” he stammered, shifting nervously on his feet.

The butterflies in her stomach flapped their wings all at once, tickling her ribcage and a laugh burst out her mouth making her fluster more. “Thanks...” she whispered shyly.

“Ugh, just’ made it awkward, didn't I? Sorry. I have no filter sometimes…”

“It's okay. You’re really sweet.” She twirled the stem between her fingertips.

As he noticed the sun getting low an idea occurred to him.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked as they cut through heavy brush just off the trail.

“It’s a surprise,” he shot back with a wink.

He brought her to a clearing just before a rocky bluff that overlooked a crystal lake. The view was breathtaking, the orange sunset darkened to shades of red with purple fading in from above.

“Wow Kai, this is the most beautiful view I’ve ever s-” Her words left her when she noticed him stripping down, torso already bare as he discarded his belt. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled in response as he wordlessly rid himself of his cargo pants and stood only in boxer briefs. She tensed when he took quick strides toward her, scanning down his sculpted body with her eyes, snapping up from the prominent outline in his boxers the moment he spoke.

“Are you just gonna stare at me or are you gonna come?” His tone dripping with cockiness. 

“I-I wasn’t st- w-wha- come?!” It was her turn to stumble over her words.

He just shrugged, turned and ran before leaping over the edge. 

“Kai!” she called out.

He burst up to the water’s surface and waved her forward. “Come on, Rose!” 

“I-It’s too… cold,” she lied, hugging herself to sell her faux chills. 

“The water feels fineee,” he sang while floating on his back. 

“I don’t have a bathing suit!” 

“You don’t need one! C’mon, are you really gonna’ make me swim alone?” He pressured her with a pout.

Her weak resolve crumbled. “Okay fine...” 

He smiled to himself as she raised her shirt but stopped when she narrowed her eyes. “Turn around!” she ordered. He raised his hands in surrender before turning and resisting the temptation to peek while she removed her top and skirt and placed them neatly by his pile.

Heights were up there on her list of fears and the edge was at least 20 feet from the water.

“Am I allowed to turn back now?” His voice cut through her anxiety. She took a deep breath, reared back and dove in. 

He spun around when he heard the water splash, slightly impressed that she actually jumped in after him. The water stirred as she came up from the surface, eyes piercing like a siren, wet curls clinging to her body. An invisible tide seemed to draw them impossibly closer without touching. She leaned into his caress when he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb moving to gently tug on her lower lip. He lifted her chin, moving closer, teasing her by hesitating a hair away from her lips before she eagerly gave into the mounting tension, pressing her mouth to his in a hungry kiss that he eagerly returned with the same fervor.

Their bodies were intertwined on the rocky shore as they greedily tasted each other. Her fingers tangled in the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, their lips becoming languid and sloppy before they parted in need of oxygen. 

“We should head back to the house,” he whispered against her skin.

“Wait, can we stay a little longer? It’s so beautiful out here,” she smiled up at the twilight sky, the atmosphere was perfect, “… and I need you right now.”

He reclaimed her lips and explored her body with his hands, her supple thighs, the soft skin of her waist, and the swell of breast. She knowingly reached back and unclasped her bra, letting the fabric fall before he caressed them, thumbs rubbing and tweaking the perked buds to her delight.

She eyed him carefully when he pulled away and asked, “Are you a virgin?” 

“... no.. I was with someone… once,” she admitted softly. 

“Did he make you cum?” 

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t count,” he stated matter-of-factly, leaving trails of fire in the wake of his fingers on her inner thigh. “Did he ever.. eat you?”

She swallowed as his touch neared her clothed core, “n-no…”

His chuckle warmed her skin, “I can take two of your firsts tonight, if you let me.”

“... yes… please…” She sounded so breathy and needy.

He lowered himself down her body, kissing every square inch of skin along the way before he reached her trembling core. Watching as he stripped her of her panties, the instinct to hide herself neutralized by the grip he kept on her inner thigh, his cold rings biting into her flesh. He studied her delicate flower, the swollen bud darkened with arousal. 

He inhaled her. "Rose, you're fuckin perfect.."

She blushed and whimpered when she felt him delve in with his warm tongue. Heat blossomed in her belly, hips uncontrollably bucked against his mouth. 

“Sit still for me, princess.”

She obliged as best she could, thankful for his anchor-like grip. His tongue moved with deliberate expertise, parting her puffy folds so he could drink her from the source, thrusting in and out, drawing whimpers and slick that he swallowed down like sweet nectar.

Her fingers carded themselves through his damp hair, tugging at the roots, his hum of approval vibrating against her heat. She clenched around his fingers when two slid in knuckle-deep, working her over the edge in quick tandem with his skillful tongue. Her moans spurred him on, so pornographic he would have doubted they escaped her shy little mouth. 

“Please… Kai, I-I’m gonna…” 

Each flick of his tongue and brush of his diligent fingers had her seeing stars, she didn’t want it to end. He built her up gradually until the harsh sucking of her clit toppled her over the edge. It was like music when she arched and released a chorus of moans into the twilight air. Her climax gushed into his mouth messily as he continued slurping her up, her body trembled and whimpered from oversensitivity. 

“Ahh.. mmm, Kai…” she pushed weakly at his shoulder.

He was a sinful vision, reluctantly pulling away to beam up at her with a cheshire grin, jaw glistening with her juices, lips pink and swollen. She was still reeling, curls disheveled and flat, mascara running, chest rising and falling, face red as a cherry as she tried to catch her breath. Kai ruined her so perfectly but he wanted to do so much more. He kissed her, letting her taste her lingering flavor on his lips.

Only a bit of maroon peeked out over the horizon, so they hurried back to the house before it was completely dark. 

Her back barely touched the duvet before he pounced, grabbing at her waist and thighs to position her legs at either side of the bed, sucking on her neck and collarbone, fingers digging into her skin as they roamed likely to leave a mosaic of bruises by morning, but he relished in the little whimpers that escaped when he groped her a little too hard or bit down on the tender skin behind her ear, before soothing it with wet kisses. He impatiently rut his hips into hers, their moans harmonizing at the contact.

“Kaiiii…” she whined, too drunk on him feel ashamed of her neediness, “please…” 

He smiled down at her, satisfied with his work. 

Upon freeing his cock and stepping out of his briefs his member stood tall against his abdomen, already pulsing with need as precum pearled at the flushed tip. She audibly gasped at the sight. 

He grin at this. “ya’ nervous, sweets? Wondering’ how my big cock is gonna’ fit inside you, huh?” he teased her while giving himself a few good pumps.

“Pleaseee.. fuck me already,” she begged, the anticipation made her legs twitch and core clench with need.

He swallowed her desperate pleas, claiming her mouth in a sloppy kiss of clashing tongues while collecting the arousal from her puffy folds with the head of his cock. Her breath hitched as he stretched past her tight resistance. He paid close attention, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure. He did want her to enjoy it too so she’d come back for more. 

“Breathe, baby… I’m only half way- fucking god… you’re so tight…”

She sucked in a full breath as silent tears spilled down her cheeks but he kissed them away, savoring the salty fluid like a treat he earned, one he was determined to taste again.. and again. A broken sob escaped her lips when he sank the rest of the way in, her tight walls pulsing violently as she melded to his length.

“There’s no way you’re not a virgin…” he groaned, muscles straining as he waited for her to adjust. Her tears stopped but eyes still glistened beautifully. Trembling legs wrapped around his waist, his cock so overwhelmingly deep she could feel him in her belly, her core still drawing him deeper begging for more.

“please, I’m ready….” she breathed out.

His thrusts began with a steady rhythm, their moans mingling together with the creaking bed frame. “You’re.. taking me so well,” he croaked, closing his eyes to savor the way her velvet walls swallowed up each thrust, quickly reducing him to a sloppy, moaning mess. He rubbed her tender clit, making her belt out her orgasm before releasing his own. 

Their spent bodies curled up together.

Rose stirred in bed, feeling around for his warmth when her eye popped open and confirmed his absence. Her shower thoughts were filled with the memories of his diligent hands, wicked tongue and massive cock that she felt in the residual aching of her sex. While scrunching conditioner through her hair she wondered why Kai wasn’t there when she woke up, her imagination running wild with the idea that their amazing night together was maybe not so great for him. But Rose tried to think the best, like she did with most things but her doubts nagged at her until she found him in the kitchen, standing over a hot skillet of pancakes. The table set with fresh orange juice, bacon and eggs that she shockingly didn’t smell earlier. 

Kai turned when he heard her come in. 

“Morning,” he greeted with a chaste kiss to her forehead and a bouquet of red roses he pulled from behind. She stared, unsure what to say. Her stunned silence unnerved him so he piped up, “I woke up really early and you were still sleeping so I didn’t want to wake you… and we were running low on food, so I went to the store and I found these roses that reminded me of y-” She interrupted his ramblings with her lips, instantly reassuring him. He smiled against her mouth.

“What was that for?”

“To thank you.”

“Oh… any time, Rosy.” 

“Rosy?” She giggled at the nickname. 

“Well, your face gets all rosy when we’re together,” his breath tickled her ear, “and now I know you blush everywhere else too…”

She poked him in the ribs playfully. “Kaiiii..” she whined as he nipped at her neck. 

Thick smoke started rising from the skillet. “Kai.. Kai! Your pancakes are burning!” 

“Oh shit!”

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Warrior of the Moon

A merging of previously posted parts, slightly rewritten. My OC acting insane based on a run I did where I aggroed Moonrise and didn’t have my party with me (I’ve been Baldur’s bored lately after 1500+ hours combined between console and pc lmao I wanted to see if I could 💀).

Read on AO3 here

Cw for blood, death, canon typical violence, slightly explicit towards the end. Some fluff and hurt/comfort. Vague mention of a suicide (?) in reference to Kar’niss being convinced to drop the lantern and walk into the curse.

Word count: 4,061

“Fucking hells.”

Halsin’s eyes snapped open at Freya’s voice, still hoarse from all she’d endured the day before. He had discovered what was wrong with Thaniel while Freya slept and though he wanted so badly to put his plan into action, he knew that Freya would have his balls if he went without her. 

She was, of course, already trying to sit up on her own. Halsin moved from his chair to perch on the edge of her bed and used one hand to push her back down gently. 

“How do you feel?” He asked her. 

“Oh, all-powerful archdruid, I’m in such pain. Put me from my misery, I beg you,” she retorted with a dramatic eye roll. Her sense of humor had returned, at least. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chest as he lightly flicked her nose and she snapped her teeth at him. “Honestly, Halsin, I’m fine. I’ll die of boredom if you don’t let me up, and then everyone’s efforts will be wasted.”

Damn stubborn woman, he thought as he slid his arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up. Freya winced slightly as her sore muscles adjusted to the movement, and when she was sitting upright she started testing her injured shoulder. 

She did not behave like a woman who had just been at death’s door the previous day, that much was certain. 

Freya looked down at the leg that had been sliced open to find it clad in clean black cotton pants. She shot Halsin a glare, apparently thinking he got her naked while she was unconscious or something. Not that he didn’t want to get her naked. 

“Not me,” he said quickly. “Shadowheart brought clothes for you last night since your others were shredded.” She ran a hand through her hair, finding it unbraided and clean. “That was me, I’m afraid. I figured if you wanted red hair, you’d dye it on purpose, and the blood was starting to stain.”

Freya huffed a small laugh. “Perhaps it would be easier if I did dye it. Silver is so inconvenient.”

They sat there next to each other in silence for several moments. 

“I know you’re not one for sentimentality, but I need you to hear this. I thought you were going to die yesterday. You are, perhaps, the strongest person I’ve ever met, and without a doubt the fiercest warrior. No one here doubts your skills or your strength,” Halsin started. 

“My brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Freya answered. It was the first time Halsin had heard her say a word about her family, and he didn’t even think she realized she said it. 

“But,” he continued. “Even you cannot face everything alone. I am here to be your ear as you bear your burdens and the arms that protect you when you can shoulder them no more. If you aren’t ready to share your mind with me, at least let me mend your body when it comes back to me bleeding and bruised.”

Freya let his words sink in for a long moment, her blue eyes lining with silver as she took a deep breath. “Az would’ve loved you,” she whispered. “He would’ve smacked me upside the head and called me a stubborn brat.” She swiped at her eyes and let out a sad laugh. “Where I’m from, every favor has a price. There’s only ever been one person I could really trust to watch my flank, and he’s been gone a long time. I couldn’t protect my brother, but I can protect all of you.” She stood, gingerly testing her weight on her bad leg, and faced Halsin. Without any of her armor on, and missing her sword and shield, she was just a woman with the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. 

She was choosing to be vulnerable with him, to share some pieces of herself that she had kept locked away for Silvanus knew how long. He took both of her hands in his and let blue light flow from his palms to hers to soothe her lingering aches.

“My friend, you rescued a bear from a cage and certain death without knowing if it would kill you. You saved my grove and showed Kagha the errors of her ways. You held the line and almost lost your life to help me find my oldest friend. If you believe that my aid comes with a debt, consider it paid a hundred times over.”

Freya brushed her thumb over Halsin’s knuckles and gave him a quick nod. For her to share with him that small bit about her past, he knew, took greater courage than anything else she’d faced since he joined her camp. That knowledge made his heart nearly burst. 

“Let’s get Thaniel back to camp,” she said, breaking the tension. “He’ll be safest with us.” She let go of Halsin’s hands and looked around the room. “Where in the sweet hells is my armor?” 

Halsin laughed. “I gave it to Dammon for repairs. Wait here, I’ll go see if he’s finished.” Freya backed up a step so he could stand, dwarfing the paladin as he did. 

“You know, you’re quite large for an elf,” she blurted. 

“I am? You don’t say!” Playful sarcasm laced his tone as he laughed once more. “Trust me, it’s been said. You’ve shown more restraint than most in avoiding the subject until now.” Indeed, with them standing so close to each other, he noticed how tall he was in comparison to her. The top of her head barely reached his chest. He still had no doubt she could obliterate him in a fight if she wished. 

She shoved at his shoulder. “Whatever, old man. Go make sure Dammon hasn’t ruined my armor.”

As Halsin left the room and closed the door behind him, Jaheira caught his eye and raised her wine glass in his direction. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she gave him a knowing look. 

It seemed the woman did know everything that happened in her inn, after all.

-------

“Hey, Dammon,” Halsin called as he approached the blacksmith. 

“Hey, how is she?” Dammon asked as he turned to the larger man, clasping Halsin’s forearm in greeting. 

“She’s awake. Wants her armor back.” Dammon chuckled and nodded to where her suit lay on his workbench, polished and free of all the dents that adorned it after the battle the day before. “You do work fast, impressive.”

“I added some extra reinforcements to the plate. It’s a good set, but there are too many gaps in it for someone who takes as many hits as Freya does.” 

“Actually, I wondered if you might be able to make something,” Halsin said as he pulled the sketchbook he kept from his pocket and handed it to the smith. 

Dammon looked the sketches over for a long moment, his brows creasing as he mapped his new project in his head. “Yeah, I think I can manage it. Give me a moment to measure the other set, I have plenty of steel and scraps of scalemail thanks to Talli. Should take me about a week or so.” 

Halsin thanked the tiefling as he gathered Freya’s armor and turned back to the inn. “Oh, Dammon?” He called over his shoulder. “Keep it quiet, would you?” 

--------

They were heading for Moonrise that day. Freya was a ball of nerves, wound so tight that he was sure any minor inconvenience would cause her to snap. She was worried that Ketheric might recognize her, and therefore put her newfound friends at risk, so she insisted that everyone wait outside while she went in and “tested the waters.” 

Halsin didn’t like it one bit. There were too many things that could go wrong in there, and while he didn’t doubt Freya’s abilities, he also wouldn’t underestimate Ketheric Thorm. 

“Take Astarion inside with you at the very least,” he tried to reason with her. She just glared in response. “He knows how to stay hidden and he can back you up if something goes wrong.”

“Remember how you insisted that you were the only one who could enter the Shadowfell? This is like that,” she snapped. “If Ketheric recognizes me, it’s all over. The rest of you have an advantage, he’s got no clue who you are and if I fall, you can still infiltrate the tower. If you’re with me, and things go sideways, he’ll behead you for association before you even know what’s happening. I won’t put anyone here at risk because I apparently failed to kill him a hundred years ago.”

She’d removed her headband and earrings that marked her as a follower of Selûne. Instead of her plated armor, she sported black leather and wore a hood to cover her silver hair. She had striped her face with black kohl to hide the scar over the bridge of her nose. She looked more like an assassin than a paladin. 

Halsin ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. The archdruid in him wanted to command her to stay behind, to let the others scout the tower if she was so worried about being recognized. He knew that such a command would just piss her off, that she would never ask another to do something she herself wasn’t willing to do. 

The plan was that he would wait just outside the moonshield with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. With the pixie’s blessing, they’d be protected from the curse while the cultists were forced to stay in the light. If Ketheric recognized Freya and she somehow made it out of the tower, Astarion would pick off the cultists with his bow and Gale would open a portal to Last Light, while Shadowheart and Halsin would make sure they all survived. 

If Freya made it out. He’d never admit to her that the thought she may not make it made his bones run cold and his heart sink to his gut. He wanted to go with her, to protect her, to stand between the oathbreaker and the faithful and give her a chance to flee. 

Freya stepped closer to him and looked into his eyes, a cold determination hardening the blue. “If I fall, be assured that I plan on taking every damned cultist I can down with me.”

“You once told me your brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Halsin echoed her words from the week before. 

“But,” a smirk lifted her perfect lips. “I have no intention of dying today. By my oath, I will do everything in my power to see justice come to Ketheric Thorm.”

When she invoked her oath, Halsin knew that there was no more arguing to be done. She stood firm in her choice. All he could do was pray to Silvanus and every other god that would listen that she would return to him. 

“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said, clapping her shoulder as he strode to meet the others before departure.

--------

Halsin paced just outside the moonshield, watching the huge oak doors of the tower as if he could see through them and glimpse what was happening. 

“Would you settle down? You’re making us dizzy,” Astarion whined from the stump he perched on, carving new arrows with his knife. 

Halsin ignored him and carried on as he was. 

“Don’t be an ass, Astarion. It’s giving you wrinkles,” Shadowheart quipped. 

“Honestly, I doubt there’s anything to be that worried about. We watched our favorite paladin sweet-talk a drider into killing himself.” 

Halsin stopped his pacing when bells sounded from the tower and he heard the faint shouts of the guards. His breath caught in his throat as he stopped just in front of the moonshield. 

He strained his ears, hearing the faint clashing of swords from inside the tower. 

Freya. 

If there was fighting, she was alive. Halsin breathed a sigh of relief before that relief quickly turned to panic. Who was she fighting? What was she doing? Freya was formidable, to be sure, but one soldier against an entire stronghold? She’d either had no choice, or she was completely mad. 

The oak doors at the tower’s entrance blew open with an explosion of silver moonfire, and out poured a host of gnomes, tieflings, and…

Was that Minthara? 

Freya followed close behind, covered once again in blood and glowing with the rush of battle. Her hood had fallen and her braids swung wildly behind her. She pulled something from her pocket and launched it toward Astarion as the gnomes and tieflings ran across the bridge. 

“Tell the pixie to protect the prisoners from the curse! HURRY!” She screamed as he caught it. Halsin vaguely registered Astarion following her order, but his focus was on her. Minthara stood with her as the prisoners fled from the battle. The drow had no weapon, but she had a paladin’s magic and was using it to compel foes to halt, flee, drop their weapons as Freya struck them down. 

Gale muttered incantations under his breath as purple magic began to swirl around him. A portal appeared, and Shadowheart ushered the prisoners through to safety. Astarion drew his bow and fired as Freya and Minthara sprinted across the bridge. One of the guards dodged Astarion’s arrow at the last second and reached out to grab Freya by the braids, and Halsin decided he’d had enough. 

He let the earth guide him as he shifted, fur and claws erupting where there were once skin and hands. He leaped over the two women and tore out the guard’s throat, letting loose a roar of fury. When the drow crossed the portal, Freya slid to a stop and approached to stand at Halsin’s side. 

“Well. I may have started a bit of a fight,” she said as more guards poured through the doors. “We should probably go.” Halsin shifted back to his elven form and grabbed Freya’s hand, the two of them sprinting through Gale’s portal. 

Halsin stumbled as his feet touched the ground outside Last Light, and Freya landed on her hands and knees. Reunions and celebrations were happening all around them, but he couldn’t bring himself to gaze at anything but Freya. She sat back on her heels, tilted her face to the sky, and laughed. Cackled like a godsdamned madwoman, covered in her enemies’ blood and viscera. Perhaps she’d taken a pommel to the head. 

“Fucking hells, that felt good,” she said between her laughs, trying and failing to catch her breath. Halsin leveled a glare in her direction. “Oh come on now, they were taking Minthara to the cells to erase her mind. I was on a time crunch,” she said to him. 

“Yeah, that’s another thing we’re going to talk about. Minthara, Freya? I thought she was dead!” Halsin tried to keep his voice level, but his anger raised the volume. 

“I thought she was too, turns out she’s tougher than I thought.” Freya got to her feet and crossed her arms in defiance as if she hadn’t just saved the drow who’d threatened his grove not two months before. 

“She’s an oathbreaker, Freya. She’ll slit your throat in your sleep now that you’ve set her free. What in all the Nine Hells were you thinking?!”

“They’re arguing about me, aren’t they?” He heard the drow ask someone behind him. It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from turning his wrath on her. 

“Don’t worry, Freya always wins him over. She has a thing for taking in strays,” Astarion responded. 

“She’s an oathbreaker, yes, but you’ll make one of me if you ask me to send her back to the shadows. She was controlled by the tadpole when she planned to take the grove, a fate I would’ve faced myself were it not for blind, stupid luck. Who knows what they would’ve made me do, had the prism not intervened? Minthara is a valuable asset whose goals align with our own, for now. If she turns on us, I’ll cut her down myself.” Freya’s tone quickly turned from exuberant to commanding as she spoke, returning Halsin’s glare and spreading her stance. 

“You would die in the attempt, but it’s a noble thought,” Minthara retorted. Halsin whipped around to face the drow and Freya circled him so she stood between them, gripping her sword as she did. 

“I don’t like her either, Halsin, but I must hold to the tenets of my oath and I must accept every sword I am offered in this fight.” Freya’s gaze softened just a fraction and Halsin knew she was right. Fuck, but she could talk him into biting off his own hand if she wanted. 

He looked over Freya’s shoulder to the drow. “The first sign of trouble, and you’re gone,” he said to her. 

“Oh, I intend to cause plenty, but only for our enemies.”

--------

Back at camp, Halsin’s whittling turned into a pile of slivers in his frustration. He was still so angry with Freya, she was only meant to “test the waters,” as she had said. Instead, the woman took it upon herself to tackle an entire stronghold on her own.

He knew she would do it all over again to save those prisoners, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for it. He didn’t know the exact words of her oath, but he knew that most paladins were bound to defend the innocent. The tenets of her oath would always come above her own safety, and something about that fact aggravated him to no end. Did she just not value her own life the way she valued others? 

She materialized before him as if she could read his thoughts. She leaned on a tree and bit down on an apple, without a care in the world. She wore a sleeveless cotton top that accentuated every curve and muscle of her lithe torso and dipped low into her cleavage. Her moonlight hair was unbound and she’d washed the black from her face. 

She looked like a godsdamned angel, and that just made Halsin angrier. 

“You’re upset,” she stated, taking another bite of her apple. 

Halsin took a deep breath, willing his centuries of training in patience to kick in and chase the rage from his bones. “Yes,” he responded. 

“Look, I made a call in the moment. I’ve spoken with Minthara, and I believe she’ll stand with us against the Absolute. They scarred her mind, and she wants vengeance. If you talked with her yourself, you’d believe her, too.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Minthara.”

“Then why the fuck are you sulking in the farthest corner of camp?” Halsin stood, stalking toward Freya like she was his prey. She pushed off of her tree and straightened, crossing her arms and widening her stance. The movement made her biceps ripple and her breasts pushed together slightly. Halsin pretended that his cock didn’t twitch at the sight. 

He didn’t stop until he was inches away from her. “I’m sulking because you asked - no, demanded - that everyone else stay behind while you went on a fucking suicide mission, Freya. You put yourself at risk again and I cannot figure out how someone with such high regard for others can care for her own life so little. It was stupid, and you know it. I thought we were past this recklessness, that you would finally ask me for help, and then you go and pull this nonsense without a thought for how your friends would feel having to burn your body.”

“Don’t you dare act as if you were there. You didn’t see what they were doing in that prison, Halsin.”

“I didn’t see because you forced me to stay behind!” he yelled. “I wasn’t there because you always insist on standing alone!”

“What would you have me fucking do?! I am somehow responsible for each of the lives in this camp, for each of the souls in Last Light. I’ve been fighting for well over two hundred years, I trust in my own strength even if-“

Halsin couldn’t help it. He took her face in both hands and crashed his lips to hers. She stiffened in his grip for a moment, then melted into his kiss, molding herself to his body. She was a perfect fit. She put both of her small, calloused hands on his chest as one of his own traveled to her waist. He gripped her side as he groaned slightly into her full lips, feeling the ridges of her scars under her shirt. She opened her mouth for him, and their tongues danced in a battle for dominance. 

It was not a sweet kiss, nor a gentle one. He wound the hand that had been cupping her cheek into her long hair, wrapping it around his fist. He moved her back against the tree and the hand on her side inched up to her breast as she moaned into his mouth. It was the sweetest godsdamned sound Halsin had ever heard. 

All reason and restraint had left his body in that moment. As he kissed Freya against that tree, there was no Shadow Curse, no invulnerable general, no tadpole swimming in her skull. There was only her. 

That fierce, kind, compassionate, reckless woman whose loyalty had no match, whose strength could challenge gods and rattle the stars. He’d taken many lovers, always held that his heart roamed as nature willed it, but he knew without a doubt as he held her that she was it for him. Whether she would have him or not, there would never be another. 

Reluctantly, he broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her bright blue eyes. Both of them were breathless, and he could smell her arousal as his cock stretched the leather of his pants. 

“I wish you could see yourself as I do,” he whispered, before gripping her thighs and hoisting her up to his height. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bared her neck for him in a rare show of vulnerability as his lips wrapped around her soft flesh. His teeth moved their way up to her delicate pointed ear and she ground herself into him with a loud sigh of pleasure. 

He was ready to burst in his pants like an adolescent when a call from Astarion interrupted them. “Freya! Quit fucking the bear, there’s a devil in our camp again, and it’s not Minthara.” 

She broke away from him, panting and thoroughly flushed. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” she murmured. Halsin chuckled and nipped at her throat before releasing his hold on her. He smoothed her hair with his hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smelled like rosemary and thunderstorms, he realized, as he took a deep inhale. 

“Next time I risk my own hide in an epic act of heroism, I expect to be thoroughly fucked, druid,” she said in a sing-song voice as she turned to hurry back to where an alleged devil waited to meet with her. 

He chuckled to himself as he adjusted his breeches, and jogged to catch up with her. He was in such deep shit.

--------

The devil in question was Wyll’s patron, Mizora. She’d appeared to inform Wyll that he needed to rescue one of Zariel’s assets from Moonrise. Freya agreed on Wyll’s behalf, stating that they’d do it only if Mizora freed her warlock from his pact. 

The damn woman would argue with a devil. She sat with Minthara on a log, handing her the weapons they’d gathered from their travels for inspection. The flaming sword she’d picked up on the nautiloid was too big, the mace from under the creche too small, and the shortsword from the goblin camp downright insulting. 

Freya smirked as she passed the drow a Menzoberranzan blade she’d looted from a drider. Minthara stood, gripping the hilt with finesse and testing its balance. “Finally, good drow steel. This will do,” she said. Freya retrieved her own sword and started sharpening it with her whetstone. Halsin watched as the two women fell into an easy camaraderie, honing their weapons and talking of battles won, foes vanquished. 

May all the gods above have mercy on Ketheric Thorm, for the elf and the drow would not.

[wovain]

"You can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss."

 [    ELLIE   WAS   A   LOT   OF   THINGS,   BUT   SHY   WASN'T   ONE   OF   THEM—NOT   REALLY.    ]   That   awkwardness,   the   quiet   hesitations,   it   was   all   an   act,   a   mask   she   wore   to   keep   people   at   arm’s   length.   Beneath   the   surface,   her   mind   was   a   storm,   running   through   every   choice   she’d   made,   every   brutal   lesson   drilled   into   her   at   that   secret   academy.   The   soldier   training,   the   missions,   the   sacrifices   to   prove   her   worth—it   all   replayed   endlessly,   a   loop   she   couldn’t   escape.

She   wasn’t   sure   about   this   mission.   Hell,   none   of   them   were.   A   ragtag   crew   of   highly   trained   operatives   pulled   together   by   some   underground   militia.   It   wasn’t   exactly   a   dream   team,   but   it   worked—for   now.   Ellie   leaned   back   against   the   rough,   weathered   wood   of   the   cabin,   the   chill   seeping   through   her   jacket.

Upstairs,   the   others   had   managed   to   drunkenly   stumble   their   way   to   bed,   leaving   her   alone   in   the   quiet   hum   of   the   room.   Anxiety   pressed   heavy   on   her   chest,   familiar   and   sharp.   Or   maybe   it   wasn’t   anxiety—maybe   it   was   the   tension   that   seemed   to   thrum   in   the   air   tonight.

She   didn’t   move   her   head,   but   her   eyes   flicked   to   Gloria   across   the   room.   Ellie   fidgeted,   the   nervous   energy   coursing   through   her   as   she   shoved   one   hand   into   her   pocket   and   set   her   empty   beer   bottle   down   on   the   table.   Her   thoughts   wandered,   unbidden,   to   her   ex—probably   back   in   the   States,   finishing   dinner   or   watching   some   mindless   TV.

That’s   all   Ellie   had   ever   been:   a   mess   of   empty   promises   and   unfulfilled   potential.   A   reminder   of   what   she   couldn’t   be,   of   everything   she’d   failed   to   hold   onto.   But   here,   with   this   crew,   it   was   different.   They   needed   her.   Her   skills   mattered.   For   once,   maybe   she   mattered.

She   let   out   a   quiet   hum,   the   sound   breaking   the   silence   as   she   snapped   back   to   the   moment.   “Kissing?”   Ellie   repeated,   her   voice   tinged   with   humor   as   she   raised   an   eyebrow   at   Gloria.   “Don’t   tell   me   you’re   one   of   those   horoscope   girls.”   Smirking,   she   stepped   closer,   brushing   past   to   reach   the   sink,   gently   nudging   Gloria   aside.

But   something   stopped   her.   Just   for   a   moment.

Her   hand   lingered   on   Gloria’s   hip,   the   touch   sparking   something   unexpected.   Something   that   wasn’t   just   friendly,   something   that   felt   like   a   step   over   an   invisible   line.   Ellie’s   heart   thudded   as   the   space   between   them   shrank,   her   body   moving   on   instinct   rather   than   thought.

She   leaned   in,   slow   and   deliberate,   bracing   her   hands   on   either   side   of   Gloria   as   her   lips   hovered   dangerously   close   to   the   other   woman’s.   The   tension   was   palpable,   electric,   as   Ellie   tilted   her   head,   her   breath   warm   against   Gloria’s   skin.

“Do   you   think   you   can   learn   something   about   me?”   she   asked,   her   voice   low   and   edged   with   something   daring,   something   more.

[babypinkhearts]

“and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, ‘i love you.’”

pairing: gojo satoru + fem!reader

summary: when does one cross the line of a mere friendship?

warnings: angst, mention of intoxication (alcohol), gojo is a FOOL for you, drunk reader, hidden inventory arc didn’t end so horrifically and everyone is safe <3, cameos from suguru, shoko, haibara and nanami, everyone is in their early twenties, some crude humor, comfort & fluff

word count: 11.4k

a/n: inspired by the song “somethin’ stupid” by frank & nancy sinatra. this fandom is allergic to happiness - you guys make me SAD.

1:15am.

“oh my gosh — ‘toru! you answered!”

satoru wants to laugh at your excitement. he really does. but instead of feeling that instinctive sense of amusement you always provide him with, he feels a little bitter. it alarms him.

your voice is loud. a volume he doesn’t recognize too well. you sound drunk. ideally, he would relish you. to see you so careless was a rare sight. satoru had only really seen you intoxicated once, and even then you seemed to be hyper-aware of everything. like your body was inhumanly fighting for it’s willpower. as if the consequences of alcohol didn’t affect you - or, maybe because you feared it to. now, with your words slowly slurred and overly enthusiastic, he can only question himself as to why you were accepting the lack of self-control this time. there was something uneasy about it.

“are you having fun?”

his voice is soft. he sits at the edge of his bed, phone pressed lightly to his face. he finds your initial shock to him answering the phone silly. satoru has never missed a call from you. he had a bad habit of even answering you during missions — you always scolded him for it. but he didn’t care. it was you, how could he ever ignore it?

“i am, i am! shoko says we have to leave soon, but - oh my god, ‘toru, you know what i was thinking about?”

satoru lets himself chuckle at your jumbled thoughts. you’re like child who’s had far too much sugar, bouncing off the walls in excitement. despite his worry, he loves you like this, he thinks. happy.

you were no where near as unrestrained as he was, but you weren’t exactly reserved either. it was never often that you seemed to cross over the line, always cautious, meanwhile satoru always oblivious. he was an open book with captivating allure. but there was a difference in your demeanor, he had noticed. satoru was admittedly not too skilled with advice — at least, not pertaining to serious circumstances — but, you were important to him. seeing you so dull worried him. it was even noticeable to shoko, who had forced you to go out with her when the weekend finally came. drinks on her. judging by your state, you might had gone overboard.

“your eyes, ‘toru! they’re so pretty.”

satoru stiffens immediately.

you tease him a lot. it’d be soft, witty comments that would break his unbearable charm in seconds. but they were never flirtatious. that was satoru’s realm. an arm around your shoulder, him occasionally sprawling himself over you if you were laying down, him falling asleep on you more times then he could count, even going so far as to playfully kiss your cheek. satoru never hid his infatuation with you.

however, the thought of voicing it - with full authenticity, no humor embedded, was more terrifying than anything.

satoru tended to evade reality. he was a jester, even being carefree in moments that were painstakingly grim. to satoru, the world seemed to only spin with banter. ignorance is bliss.

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

another voice, which satoru immediately recognizes as shoko, is heard through the phone. she was scolding you, and it was clear that she was much more sober in comparison. completely, even, satoru would guess.

“shoko!” satoru hears you giggle, and suddenly your voice sounds distant. there’s rustling, before a voice interrupts the brief silence.

“gojo.”

he feels a sense of relief wash through him. something that can take his mind off of your words. you were drunk, he reminded himself.

“what can i do for you?”

a grin appears on his face, finding the obvious tone of annoyance in shoko’s voice amusing. it was safe to assume you had most likely been somewhat problematic during your evening.

“come get her, gojo.”

satoru coughs, eyes widening.

“why? you’re out with her right now. what happened to girl’s night?”

it’s not that satoru doesn’t want to come get you. he would do anything for you. but with the state that you’re in — he’s not sure if he could handle it. you’re not like yourself.

“all she’s talking about is you. it’s driving me crazy.”

he isn’t given a chance to respond as the call promptly ends, leaving him to stare at the blank screen.

his eyes travel to his car keys on his bedside table.

••••

1:35am.

satoru arrives at the bar in less than fifteen minutes. thankfully, the two of you share your locations with one another on your phones. it was a mutual exchange. for safety reasons, of course. friends being friends.

he’s tempted to call you again, just to find out where exactly you are (and maybe to hear your unusually upbeat voice once more), but he decides against it. he knows you probably won’t be the one to answer this time, given your inebriation. he rather face the humiliation of shoko’s teasing in one go.

the bar is lively, despite it nearing it’s closing time. at least shoko hadn’t dragged you to a club. it was safer this way, and while he trusts shoko with every fiber in his body, he’s aware that having a drunk person around is like having dead weight. shoko can be impatient at times.

scouting out the bar ultimately ends up being futile, with his search ending surprisingly quickly. satoru takes in the sight. you stick out like a sore thumb, smile bright and radiant as ever. shoko looks rather dreary beside you.

“finally.” shoko sighs, approaching him. she’s holding a lit cigarette in her hand, and satoru silently wonders if this bar even allows smoking indoors. “i’m gonna call geto or something. i need an actual drinking buddy… think there’s a bar around here that closes later?”

and while satoru wants to scold her for being out so late, he decides against it. he’s already appreciative enough that she had the willpower to stay sober.

instead, he snickers at the mention of his best friend, tilting his head. “replacing them just like that, huh?”

shoko smiles slyly, sending him a pointed look. “don’t act so nonchalant. i know when you’re nervous.”

satoru’s eyes widen, and he attempts to mask his surprise with a dismissive laugh.

“when — when have i ever been nervous?”

shoko’s face falls, and she simply blinks at him. satoru swallows thickly.

yeah, she was right.

he spares a glance over her shoulder, eyes landing on you. he almost winces. it’s a sight that even has him feeling lightheaded for a second.

your eyes are glossy and narrowed, and every movement you make seems to be in slow-motion. there’s a lazy grin on your lips as you talk to the person beside you, who satoru just knows is a poor stranger.

“jesus, shoko.” satoru breathes, momentarily glancing back at her. “why didn’t you give her a limit?”

shoko purses her lips, taking another hit from her cigarette. her face is difficult to read, though it morphs into something solemn — a twinge of sadness satoru can’t seem to understand. she looks back at you for a second before turning to satoru again.

“she needed it.” she gently replied, quiet enough to be heard by only him. “and-“

satoru’s unimpressed expression appears when he recognizes the familiar card in shoko’s hands.

“thank you, for it.” she cheekily responds, handing him his credit card back.

he hadn’t even realized it went missing.

before he could whine and scold her (and jokingly ask for the money back, despite his fortune), he feels the warm grasp of her hand around his wrist, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you.

“alright!” shoko claps, grabbing your attention immediately. your head turns, and satoru swears he sees stars in your eyes. and maybe a little bit of confusion. you seem to have trouble processing his sudden appearance before an even wider grin adorns your face, if even possible.

“‘toru!” your arms find him, and satoru has to face away from shoko to hide his pink-dusted complexion.

you weren’t one for affection. he had expected a snarky greeting, per usual. this was different. his face feels like it’s boiling as he registers the feeling of your lips smacking against his cheek.

“how’d�� how’d you get here so fast?” you giggle, pulling back from him to see his face, though keeping your arms loosely secured around his neck. “i was just on the phone with you!”

satoru has to remind himself how to breathe.

“uh-“ he glances at shoko. “i was just in the area. funny, right?”

and your body folds over, laughing as if he had just spoken the most hilarious sentence.

“what the heck?!” you gasp, and you playfully hit him in the chest. “so funny.”

shoko is beet-red from holding in her laugh. satoru glares.

“well!” she interrupts, smiling at you. “satoru’s gonna take you home now, alright?”

you gasp again, your hand falling upon your heart. “but girl’s night, shoko!”

shoko nods, faking a sad sigh.

“i know... but i’m not feeling too well, and i think i’m gonna stay here ‘til i feel better.”

she ignores the kick that satoru gives her. thankfully, you don’t seem to notice.

you blink, nodding back at her. “okay… call me when you’re home.”

shoko only hums in response, waving a dismissive hand before grabbing her phone to presumably text suguru.

satoru turns to you. you smile brightly.

you probably can’t walk straight - or go very far without falling. so, he offers an arm.

only to immediately retract it when your lips form into a pout.

“what?” he asks, confused. that familiar wit is crawling back into him, and he’s met with relief like no other. he could feel his heart rate finally slowing down, and a grin breaks out on his face. “you don’t want help, pretty?”

and he feels the world align once again, your dynamic back to normal as he observes your flustered expression. satoru smirks.

back in business.

“well…” you mumble, bringing your fingers to your chin in faux contemplation. you’ve let go of him now, though he’s resorted to firmly grabbing both of your forearms because unfortunately, your body has begun to involuntarily sway. “my place is farther, right?”

satoru tilts his head, from what? his brain is muddled, the forced proximity still affecting him indefinitely.

and though your mind is equally as scrambled from a completely different reason, you have the ability to read his.

“from here.” you clarify, and for a second satoru believes you’re sobering up, just a tad. it might have been the way you suddenly stand straighter, or how your expression relaxes. but that must be the fatigue, he thinks. satoru is a lightweight, he would know.

“we should just go to your place.”

satoru’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and while he wants to act completely shocked, he isn’t given a reason to be. you’ve always slept over, it was like second-nature. his home to be lived, to be simply loved. remnants of you everywhere, as if you shared the space. a routine that oddly encompasses what the two of you were. something never explicit.

“okay, we can go to mine.” he breathes, looking at your dilated eyes. you were staring at him differently. it was more intense. he chooses to ignore it. “grab on to me, though. i don’t want you breaking an ankle trying to get outside.”

you sluggishly wave an arm, rolling your eyes, though your head unconsciously tilts back with the movement. satoru’s eyes narrow.

“pshhh, i’ll fall just to spite you.”

••••

2:07am.

the car ride was peaceful, surprisingly. at least to satoru, your drunk topics were like music to his ears. spontaneous and effortlessly random, though his creative mind seamlessly let him answer your brooding hypothetical questions.

“what if you crashed right now?”

“your hair would dye really easily, right? let’s do pink.”

“have you and suguru kissed before? i bet you have.”

the journey to get you inside his home was more of a different story.

“okay,” satoru breathes, leaning against the open car door, beckoning you with his hands. “stand up.”

somehow the alcohol in your system was just progressively ruining you, and you only could manage to blink up at him. it felt like the world was spinning, and satoru was just a painter’s mix of white and blue color. blurry, infuriatingly blurry.

“i don’t think-“ and you laugh, head bowing as your body shakes. a part of you is still conscious, in disbelief that you’re as fucked up as you are. “i don’t think i can stand up.”

his mischievous smile hadn’t returned since you were at the bar, and instead satoru had begun to exhibit a softer demeanor. voice patient, touch effortlessly gentle. you didn’t think too much about it, mostly because you mentally couldn’t.

“right.” satoru chuckles, momentarily pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sound. this was undeniably strange for him. had he stepped into a parallel universe? the roles are meant to be reversed. he was supposed to make shitty decisions, not you.

however, he doesn’t pester you further, simply approaching you and lifting you from under your arms. you try to support yourself to be of some use, but your hands fall upon nothing, vision whirling until it feels nearly nauseating. you give up.

“i got you.” satoru reassures, and suddenly, you’re pressed against him. an irritating reminder of his strength.

in a bittersweet way, it was kind of nostalgic. memories of past summers where you would be too tired to walk back to your dorm, the feeling of security from being so close to him warming you infinitely. he would tuck you into bed. and maybe you chose to overlook the fact that satoru had always been gentle with you.

you were in your early twenties now, that boyish charm still following him - and you’re sure it would never leave.

“do you feel sick?” he asks, now carrying your sluggish body. he had tried to let you walk on your own, but the attempts made were laughable. he’d rather avoid causing you trouble.

surprisingly, you didn’t. you felt more warm than anything, the buzz making your scalp tingle. you shook your head.

“feel…” your head leans against him, lolling to the side as if it’s suddenly become too heavy. “good.”

satoru hums in acknowledgment, fishing in his pocket with one hand, the other still holding you. he opens the door to his home with ease, heading straight to the bathroom after he’s closed it. you’re staring at him in wonder, and he senses the question before you ask.

“gonna get you ready for bed.” he answers, helping you up as you sit rather hesitantly on the counter. you hold your hands in your lap, closing your eyes. nostalgic, again.

it’s too domestic, and yet so normal.

it was usually you who would have satoru sit, gently removing his eyewear and helping him brush his teeth. he’d complain about anything — whether the water was too hot, the light was too bright, or the silence was too loud. despite the nagging, you loved taking care of him while he was drunk. and satoru craved the affection. sometimes, he got tipsy with hopes you’d be there at the end of the night. you always were.

“is this fun for you?”

satoru looks up from the cotton pad he had been coating with your makeup remover. during the times you’ve slept over, he’s picked up on the little things.

“fun?” he sends you a questioning look, a smile on his face. you diligently nod for longer than needed.

“yeah. when i’m drunk.” you reply, eyes still closed. “i like taking care of you… when you are. it’s been a while.”

satoru’s heart melts at that, though he only visibly snickers.

“well,” his hand reaches up to your face, keeping it in place as he begins to glide the cotton pad across your skin. it’s pleasant. “you haven’t thrown up, so i like it so far.”

you giggle, peeking through narrowed eyes at him. he’s awfully close.

“i don’t feel sick, s’ don’t worry.” you mumble, your body suddenly feeling numb as you try to force yourself to stay as still as possible. the bathroom light makes satoru look better than he should. you would argue it was because you weren’t thinking straight, but he always looked good. it was stupid.

“good.” he whispered, and for a moment you feel the ministrations on your face stop. the sound of your toothpaste opening fills your senses, and you silently watch as satoru coats your toothbrush. you smile lightly.

“i can do that… myself.” you slowly speak, grabbing it from him. you’re grateful that he refrains from teasing you as you almost completely miss the toothbrush with your hindered sight. he also nearly pouts, but doesn’t object. he likes to be babied by you, and he wants to return the favor. some of his best memories are ones he could hardly remember after nights out. unexplainably, it bothered him that you didn’t let him treat you the same. vulnerability is beautiful, satoru had found. he enjoyed it when he was around you. he wonders if he’d be as sane without it.

he watches as you jump off the counter, wobbling a little, which results in him immediately wrapping an arm around you.

“you sure?” he teases, and it takes everything in him to not pull out his phone a record a video for later. this is hilarious to him, truly. he’s surprised shoko hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he currently was.

you sigh dramatically, leaning against him in submission. a bit of your normal self shines through the reluctancy. satoru doesn’t say anything, only sneaking an occasional glance through the mirror you both faced. you brush your teeth like that, bodies pressed against one another. he holds your hair as you rinse your mouth. the stability is comforting.

you make no effort to separate from him after you finish. satoru doesn’t seem to mind. you’re not sure whether or not you imagine his grip getting tighter.

he guides you to his familiar bedroom. surprisingly neat, as he always seemed to leave it. it looked like the set of a movie — maybe too prim and proper. satoru was never really home anymore, business meetings and missions taking up the majority of his time. he was training to be a teacher, after-all — as strange as it was to you. despite it, you always valued how high you were on his list of priorities. he continuously made time for you.

the warmth you had felt is suddenly gone, and you complain as he leaves you sat on the edge of his bed.

“i’m getting you clothes, i’ll be back, sleepyhead.” he teases, and you watch as he disappears into his closet. you wonder if it also looks the same. you vaguely recall his uniforms neatly hung, casual clothes on the other side of the walk-in. on nights out, you used to help him pick his outfits. help me pull tonight, he’d beg. then, he’d go out with you and buy you a new outfit of your own. he loved being a judge in the dressing rooms. but you’re not sure if he was ever really honest; he would just end up buying everything your eyes lingered on. stupid gojo satoru. they’re fond memories, leaving you smiling while looking down at your hands.

satoru’s wealth was never forgettable. he was not humble by any means, but he was generous. with money, he had never been greedy. he’d spend his fortune on you if you let him.

that’s one thing about friendship, right? you give them your all.

“here.” a t-shirt and sweatpants are placed on your lap, and you recognize them as his own. they’re pure cotton, the material smooth as you feel it against your skin. curse men with money. “change, and i’ll let you sleep.”

inertly, you nod. your eyes follow him as he exits the room and closes the door behind himself.

every person has their own version of how they perceive someone else. to the rest of the world, satoru might be oddly optimistic. egotistical, definitely. you’d grown to love the fool, despite the flaws he continuously claims he lacks. denial seems to only be bearable if he’s the one complaining.

your limbs feel heavy as you replace your clothes with his. they engulf you, feeling like a warm hug. you have bundles of his wardrobe back in your own closet, for the nights when he would sleepover. strictly. and perhaps you had prolonged returning them to use them as your own. satoru never made the effort to ask for anything back, though. it frustrates you, the craving of his touch and scent so intense you’re embarrassed by the mere thought of it. he makes it all too easy.

the door slowly creaks open before your vision happily welcomes him back. you raise a brow at him from instinct.

“and what if i was still changing?” you asked teasingly, voice clearly worn out. you let your body collapse on to the outrageously comfortable mattress, sighing as your head hits satoru’s expensive pillows. they smell like him. “you didn’t even knock.”

your eyes trail to him, watching as he leans against the doorframe. his arms are crossed as he stares down at you, playfully rolling his eyes. the blue is ever-so-slightly visible as his glasses sit at the edge of his nose.

“you were taking too long. thought you might have passed out or something…” he replies, letting himself in. you only respond with a mocking laugh, eyes narrowed as they threaten to close.

“you’re a bad liar.”

he ignores you, and a satisfied smirk appears on your face.

you hear the click of satoru’s bedside lamp, and sigh in relief as the main fluorescent lights are turned off. your eyes invite the ambient orange with open arms.

satoru chuckles at you, removing his glasses and leaving them on the bedside table. you watch in curiosity as he crouches down beside you. he only smiles in response.

you try your best to hide your surprise as he lays his head on the edge of the bed, facing you. his legs are crossed as he sits on the floor, comfortable and casual. you blink at him slowly, shamelessly staring. he’s awfully close again.

“hi.” he whispers. that stupid smile, again.

you’re speechless for a moment, trying to overcome the feeling of your stomach flipping, as if you’ve just dropped from a rollercoaster. with the forced proximity, you’re nervous he can practically see your heightened senses. your entire body feels unbearably warm.

“hi.” you whisper back, finding yourself bashfully grinning at the intimacy. it’s involuntary, pure instinct. there’s blazing resentment that sits uncomfortably.

there were so many people in the world. why must cupid have you chase after the most unattainable one?

“tired?” satoru asks, tilting his head. his question lingers in the air for a while. you like the silence, relishing in how soft his voice had sounded. he chuckles when all you do is hum in response. “sleep, then. it’s late.”

slowly, your head shakes. “… i don’t want to.” your voice is muffled by the pillow. “i wanna talk.”

satoru rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, words completely defying your appearance. he’s sure if he stays quiet for over a minute, you’d be out like a light. regardless, he grants you your wish.

“about what?” he asks, and you appreciate that his tone is of genuine interest. you’ve never felt like a burden around him. your eyes close as you feel him caress the top of your head.

no matter what, there would always be a touch of bitterness towards gojo satoru, despite the tenderness he handles you with. and the most frustrating part was that he had never done anything wrong. he’s just himself. and you suppose that’s why it hurts a little more.

you’re left to collect your scrambled thoughts, eyes tiredly looking into his, as if they’ll give you all your answers. and a part of you thinks they might.

it’s the world’s most intimate staring contest. dilated pupils that you can’t register, the longing for something so mutual it’s painful.

to his dismay, you look away.

satoru is reminded of the night, despite the fuzzy feeling in his chest. he’s the first to break the silence.

“what’s wrong, pretty?”

satoru knows this is unfair. he’s taking advantage of the state that you’re in. drunk words are sober thoughts, he once heard. but you’re always so private. never letting anyone in, succumbing to your own thoughts until something like this happens. where you’ve drank an entire night away, and somehow, your mind is still plagued.

you look back at him innocently, and a pang of guilt seeps through his being. he’s tempted to retract his words, to climb and lay down beside you. to lull you to sleep. but he favors his curiosity and pure concern over anything. it blinds him. he’s sorry for this, genuinely.

you’re slow to answer, and while satoru tries tells himself it’s because of the inebriation, he knows it’s because you don’t want to tell him. your mind was everything but pliable.

your eyes leave him again, staring off at the wall over his shoulder. an attempt to escape his attention, but you still have it completely. you’re all he can focus on. your voice is still muffled by the pillow.

“you.”

the confession stings. and suddenly, satoru wishes he hadn’t asked. it’s too serious, too heartbreakingly honest. you deserve to have this conversation in a better state. but he’s evil at times. so he doesn’t stop you.

“you’re all i think about.” you confess, voice exasperated, and satoru feels his stomach drop at the view of complete hopelessness in your eyes. “it’s driving me crazy.”

he recalls the initial phone call of the night.

shoko’s complaints about how often you brought him up, saying you were driving her crazy. was that really the universal way of describing it? the confirmation only came when he got to witness your affection first-hand. the hug, the kiss on the cheek.

his mind is racing, heart beating so fast he’s afraid he will combust. feelings that had been years in the making with pitiful secret glances, all amounted to a confession that he’s not even sure he can convince himself is genuine. yet he licks his lips, breath faltering. he can ruin everything with a snap of his fingers — but this friendship? he can’t. he won’t.

“is that a bad thing?”

the question leaves him quicker than he expects, and he surprises himself with the bluntness. it eats at him, the yearning for your adoration so eager it scares him. the impulsivity of the sentence makes him think, yes, he wants to know what you feel. how you feel about him? do you think the two of you would work out? is it too complicated to even try?

a breathy chuckle leaves you. the sound reminds him of shoko’s solemn expression from back at the bar.

“i don’t know anymore.”

satoru swallows thickly, throat feeling dry. there’s delusion that takes over him, and he lets himself have this moment of bliss. he used to beg the universe for something like this. sitting outside, taking walks during the night on his own, hands in his pockets as he followed nothing in particular. his head would tilt to the sky, eyes shining at the stars. he’d beg everything that someday he’d get over his fear and admit his infatuation. that maybe he’d have a chance. that he wouldn’t ruin the two of you. the bond you had was too precious to him.

gojo satoru sometimes lacks self-control. he can be selfish without meaning to be. he likes talking, loves evading. because again, the world only seemed to spin with banter.

but now, it feels like the spinning has stopped. the earth is stable, frozen in time, being so generous with leaving you both to move freely. as if it’s fate. satoru thinks, just for a moment, that this feels okay to admit. he’ll be honest. even if it makes his world break.

“i’m always thinking about you.”

gojo satoru. triumphant to all, though perfectly okay with losing a battle to you.

he’s not sure how to describe the look you give him. it’s hazy, and he prays he’s right about detecting joy.

there’s a pause that makes him nervous. more nervous than he’s ever felt.

and then you lean forward to kiss him.

a hand raises to gently pass through his hair. the softness of it makes him shiver. he feels you cradle his face so innocently, noticing how the touch is there, but also not. you’re giving him a chance to pull away. always selfless, never forceful. the beauty of your nature. too aware of everything.

how heartless of him to kiss back.

it shouldn’t feel this good. he shouldn’t love how your hand buries itself in his hair, or how he could feel your smile against his mouth. it’s addictive.

he separates from you for a moment, watching as you sit up hastily. you claim his lips once more, as if they should never be apart. and they shouldn’t, he thinks.

the bliss is euphoric.

and yet, there’s a pit of uncomfortable shame that wrecks through his entire being.

when you part, satoru’s throat feels tight. his eyes are watering, and yet he’s unable to look away. it’s horrific.

what did he just do?

“i…” he quietly speaks, though it gets lost in the darkness of his room. a single look at you and all words are gone.

you have a sleepy smile on your face, eyes twinkling. satoru stops himself from talking, because he knows he’ll just find a way to ruin the moment. it’s serene and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.

a soft sigh leaves your lips, and you breathlessly laugh. it’s fatigued, but you’re still there. present. satoru feels like he might cry.

“i love you.”

satoru’s eyes shut tightly, and he silently hopes he could conjure the ability to just disappear. to be gone forever, to never have to look back. anything to escape this, because his heart hurts. and it’s the kind of feeling that makes him sick.

he can’t say it back. he refuses.

adolescent love is one like no other. puppy love, is what it’s mostly called. puppy love that never fades, puppy love that never dies. what is that? just plain love? that didn’t feel right. it was bland and boring. a phrase that certainly couldn’t encapsulate what he truly felt. maybe it needed a metaphor. fireworks blazing in the night sky, the unexpected spark you feel as you accidentally shock yourself, the sight of the most heavenly sunset. even then, nothing completely translated.

satoru can see your eyes struggling to stay open, fluttering desperately with exhaustion. you lay back down. his body generously lends him the strength to raise his hand to cup your face. he caresses it gently, doing his best to mask the tremble in his limbs. your hand rests over his own.

this wasn’t a mere friendship.

in fact, there’s something in the back of his mind screaming at him that it never was.

satoru is right, you fall asleep quickly. your body gives into the the necessity, liquor bothering you no further.

claws grasp at him, pulling him back to consciousness. be realistic, they say. because this, this can’t happen.

his head bows down, and his body curls in itself. he feels sluggish as he stands up, slow steps taken as he feels like be may collapse if he moves too quickly. he takes one last look at you before he shuts the bedroom door. the sliver of light that comes from his open blinds leaves the remnants of his shadow, darkness looming over you. like a devil over your shoulder.

you probably wouldn’t remember in the morning.

his voice is a whisper that he’s sure you aren’t able to hear, even if you were somehow awake. it’s hesitant, mostly because the words make him feel bile crawling in his throat. he’s dizzy from it.

“it’ll pass.”

•••

11:47am.

it hurts to move your head. and blink, and think.

“don’t let me drink again.” you whine, arm over your eyes. it’s pitiful, and the boy beside you only snickers.

“complain to shoko.” he muses, eyes closed.

he lays beside you in his bed, enjoying the sunshine peeking through the window. satoru had disturbed your slumber in worries that you had planned to spend the rest of the day rotting with your hangover. it was a pointless concern, as he now knew you were going to do it regardless.

there was nothing different about this. it was normal. no uncomfortable tension. friends being friends, or so it seemed.

“thank you for taking care of me.” you breathed, leaning over to pat his chest lightly.

you don’t mention kissing him.

“it was…” satoru clicks his tongue in thought, humming. “an experience. for sure.”

satoru doesn’t either.

the avoidance aches.

“do you want water?” he asks, peering at you through a half-opened eye. he’s relieved when you nod, desperate to flee your overwhelming presence for a few minutes.

he wonders who would be the first to bring it up — if it would get brought up. did you even remember? he doubts it.

defeat looms through him, and he knows that he can’t just let the night go. now that he’s had a taste of it, of you, he’s not sure he could live without it.

so what does he do?

he begins to ignore you. as stupid as that sounds - yes, gojo satoru begins to ignore you.

•••

2 weeks later.

well, he tries to ignore you.

he doesn’t cut contact; he doubts he’d ever be able to stop talking to you for more than a day, but there is less vigor there. no flirting, no physical attention. it’s as if you’ve become poisonous.

it confuses you, and it makes you helpless. you start to doubt everything.

sure, having satoru rampantly run through your mind was exhausting, but you preferred it more than acting like he didn’t exist. you’re sure that if the thought of him was wiped from all your memories, you’d feel obliviously empty. gojo satoru was meant to be there. he had made his mark.

“you’re a terrible baker.”

you glare at him through the sides of your narrowed eyes, attention reverting back to the microwave in front of you.

“it’s microwaveable popcorn, satoru. i’m not baking anything.”

satoru grins in response, “but you tried.”

the both of you stare off to the end of the kitchen, looking at the trashcan that currently held a failed attempt at cinnamon rolls.

“you didn’t tell me the timer was going off!” you defend, arms thrown into the air. it causes satoru to let out a laugh, and you have to ignore how you see his hand stop itself from patting you on the back.

after all these years, you had always hypothesized (and tried accepting) that the relationship you had with satoru would mostly likely end with a premature death. yours, you had always assumed. jujustu sorcery kind of made that an unavoidable mindset.

never, never in a million years, would you expect it to be turned brittle with a kiss. a kiss that had began to shatter everything. ugly thorns showed through, stabbing at every attempt to make things seem normal again. it was an idiotic kiss caused by an idiotic mind.

did you really think you’d have him? you yourself called him unattainable.

“are you sleeping over?”

you’re not sure why you ask. maybe it’s to hear something, anything; a confirmation that what the two of you have isn’t fucked forever. but you see how he tenses. how his eyes avoid yours. you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from having a complete outburst.

ignore it! you want to beg. act like it never happened, please.

“no, i have to finish up some work.” he answers, finger tracing over the kitchen countertops. his voice is low, and an awkward cough follows his words.

he would have never answered like that before.

despite your visible disappointment, you nod, fighting the urge to slap yourself across the face.

stupid.

“same.” you mumble, and while it’s obviously a lie, satoru doesn’t question it.

it’s just how things go for a while.

you text him every day, see him occasionally, and life simply continues. it continues without him really in it. at least, not as present as he was before.

you spend a majority of your time with shoko and suguru. they never ask you anything, but since that night you notice how they both stop bringing satoru’s name up. you wonder if it was a collective agreement, if they had spoken to each other privately beforehand. was the change in your relationship that obvious? it’s as if satoru doesn’t exist when you’re around them, and oddly enough, it helps.

it isn’t until suguru’s birthday that you really begin to crack.

organized by you, shoko, and satoru (though, mainly you and shoko), you plan a small party for suguru. it was an act of appreciation, you adored the man infinitely. possibly more than satoru did, but you refrained from saying that out loud. satoru was prideful in his love for his best friend.

“where do i put these?”

you raise your head from the cake you had been frosting, eyes falling upon a grinning haibara. nanami was here too, the two of them arriving early to help with decorations. haibara holds party streamers in his hands, assorted with all different sorts of color. you smile back at him.

“around the entrance, i think. i want his eyes to be overwhelmed as soon as he walks through the door.” you beam, eyes mischievous. haibara laughs, nodding in agreement. you watch as he walks away towards the front door.

suguru would be here in twenty minutes, according to his text. you had invited him over for what he assumed was a movie night. you had a lot of those now, fighting off the dread of your lonely nights without satoru. it admittedly felt wrong to have shoko or suguru fill that void, but you weren’t sure what else to do. satoru wouldn’t come over during night anymore. he’d linger in the afternoon, then be gone just as quickly.

“nice hand-writing.”

you freeze in place, the piping bag you were writing with stopping at the end of ‘birthday.’ satoru watches from above your leaned figure, eyes taking in the small drawings of balloons and neat cursive letters.

“the best, right?” you attempt to act nonchalantly, continuing to fill out the bottom of the cake with suguru’s name. “and i told you i was a good baker.”

satoru laughs at that, nodding. “i’ll believe it when i get a piece.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him with a smile, and you finally look up, snorting at the sight of him.

loving him was so easy.

he wears a party hat over his head, the elastic band around his face looking somewhat uncomfortable. you notice he carries another hat in his hand.

“match with me?” he grins, stretching out his arm, hoping you would take it.

you don’t even complain. you’re so derived of him, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

there’s a certain type of joy that you could only feel whenever you were around satoru. his childishness definitely was a factor, but you wonder if it was also his unintentional kindness. you’re aware of everything, but him? you can’t imagine what his mind must look like. he knows how to fill a room with his presence. he knows how to make you smile. had he studied the world, or did it come naturally?

your thoughts die down when you watch his expression turn into pure glee as you attach the reflective plastic to your head.

it’s the most attention you’ve received in so long, and frankly, it’s pathetic that you feel your heart beat just a little faster from it.

in twenty minutes, you’re all stood around the front door, party whistles in hand.

door is open, let yourself in, you had texted suguru.

the lights are off, everyone hidden under the darkness. even with the lack of light, your eyes had begun to adjust, seeking out the silly decorations you had all put up. posters of cats and dogs with party hats, similar to you and satoru, along with streamers that extended to entirely other rooms, and balloons that took up the majority of the ceiling.

“i’m surprised you kept it a secret.” you mumbled, voice low as you crouch beside the white-haired male. satoru’s jaw momentarily drops, characteristically dramatic.

“mean.” you hear him mumble, and you gasp as you feel him pinch your side. you slap his arm, and he giggles.

it’s familiar, and you try not to dwell on the action for too long.

when the door knob tilts, you cease all noise. the creaking of the door is thrilling, the gap widening by the second.

you all jump out once it’s opened, haibara being quick to turn the lights on.

“surprise!”

suguru’s face makes you want to laugh. he’s surprised, definitely, but there’s also a glint of playful annoyance. he stands at the doorway for a moment, scanning the room to look at everyone he’s seen for years. all together, grins on every face. he momentarily observes the random decor.

“movie night, huh?” he muses, and you giggle in return. his hair is half-tied up, pieces naturally falling by the sides of his face. there’s that gentle smile that he always holds.

“worked out pretty well.” you shrugged, grinning as you approach him.

his arms are outstretched, and hesitantly, you find yourself in them. unlike you.

shoko’s eyes glance over to satoru.

“happy birthday.” you mumble into suguru’s shirt, squeezing him tightly.

and you’re ripped away from him as satoru throws an arm around the two of you.

“happy birthday!” he interrupts, and suguru makes a face as he obnoxiously plants a loud kiss on his cheek. you’re taken aback for a second, surprised at the casualness of his body against yours. as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened.

haibara, nanami, and shoko approach to give the male the same attention, half-hugs all given. and maybe satoru is reading into it a little too much, but suguru isn’t giving them the same amount of affection as he gave you.

his eyes land on the party hat you’re still wearing, a small frown on his face as he messes with the elastic of his.

he kinda feels like a lost puppy for a bit, following you and suguru as you seamlessly chat amongst yourselves. his two favorite people, mixing as they always have - but for some reason, it feels a bit different. it’s pitiful, the way he watches you interact with each other. shoko has to look away, while nanami and haibara are thankfully oblivious.

“you made a cake?” suguru smiles, eyeing the colorful frosting. ‘happy birthday sugi-poo’ is written, a forceful demand on satoru’s part. suguru’s eyebrow raises, knowing only one person would suggest it. “… with satoru?”

satoru gladly attempts to interrupt with an enthusiastic “yes!” but you cut him off with a scoff.

head shaking, you gave him a pointed look. “no, he made me write that.”

suguru nods, though his eyes linger on you and his expression turns into amusement. he can see satoru in his peripheral vision. he doesn’t question you any further.

the night is enjoyable while it lasts.

you end up staying beside shoko the majority of the time, the two of you chatting about whatever comes to mind. you always found it easy to talk to her, like she had a level of understanding that you couldn’t comprehend. you’d argue that it was the future doctor in her, but she’d scold you and tell you she wasn’t nearly done with her studies yet. you liked that look of annoyance on her face though, so you’d probably never stop poking fun at her career choice. a million years in debt if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d grin. you wouldn’t call her lucky, though.

satoru is glued to suguru’s side, as he always was, though you notice how his expression seems a little less cheerful than usual. they’re talking, but you’ve never been a good lip-reader, so you disregard your concern and avert your attention back to your brunette friend.

as soon as he senses your eyes not on them anymore, suguru breaks.

“something needs to change.”

satoru leans forward, sighing heavily. there’s an exaggerative slump in his shoulders, and he slowly looks up at suguru. the repetitive topic being brought back up again.

“no.”

“yes.”

suguru scoffs, rubbing his eyes with his hand in annoyance, a level that only satoru could tread on and reach as easily.

“you looked like you were gonna kill me.”

satoru laughs, rolling his eyes. “i did not-“

“satoru.”

he looks back up, quirking a brow at the seriousness in suguru’s face.

“she kissed you. do something about it.”

suguru was the only person satoru had gone to, while you had stayed silent since that night. normally, satoru was reclusive with feelings, but suguru was more in-touch with reasonable actions than he was. he needed advice, though he never took it because he disliked the options given. stubborn.

“what if i don’t want to?”

there’s a small beat of silence, before suguru’s head perks up.

he smirks happily, eyes closed, almost like he had expected a response like that. he provides a solution of his own, voice light and airy as if it’s an easy compromise. it definitely isn’t.

“then i’ll kiss her.”

satoru stills, eyes widening.

realistically, satoru knew it was an empty threat. suguru would never do something like that to him - he was too civil and kindhearted. but his words bothered him nonetheless, because even if suguru wasn’t going to, someone else eventually would. he’s playing the waiting game, but for what, exactly?

the friendship didn’t feel the same anymore. beating around the bush was becoming a little pointless because satoru was distancing himself anyway. he wanted to keep you, but how could he when there’s something there that the two of you are both equally as afraid of saying out loud?

it’s conflicting emotions, all too grand for a man that fears showing them. he offers no verbal response, and suguru keeps up his smile, all-knowing and finally satisfied.

suguru leaves him after that, his back turning to walk the other way, his long black hair being the only thing satoru could really focus on. reluctantly, satoru stands straighter, feeling as though something had rid of him of his strength. it takes him more effort than usually needed to simply walk to the kitchen.

he pauses in his steps, and stands at the entrance for a bit. it’s you.

satoru’s brows raise in curiosity as he observes you scrummaging through every possible drawer. there’s a frustrated tone in your feverish movements. you hadn’t noticed him, too concentrated in your search.

“what are you looking for?” he bluntly asks, and stops himself from chuckling at the way your body tenses in surprise. you compose yourself quickly, sighing and turning back to look at him. your arms cross, and you lean against the counter.

“i can’t find my lighter for the birthday candles.”

satoru snorts, raising a brow. “oh no, the entire party is ruined.”

“shut up.” you groan, glaring at him. “it’s important! that’s like the biggest part of birthday parties.”

satoru leans back against the doorway, eyes spotting suguru in the living room chatting amongst other people. he’s lively, extroverted in a way satoru isn’t.

“i’m pretty sure he’d be okay without making wishes this year-“

“can you drive me to the gas station? please?”

you already have your wallet in your hand, and satoru isn’t sure how he feels about the fact that you just know he would say yes immediately.

“it’ll be fast.” you insist, and he’s not sure why you’re adding on to it, because he’s already grabbing his jacket from the other room. his mind is on auto-pilot around you.

you don’t tell anyone you’re leaving, simply expecting the trip to last less than ten minutes. the gas station is a few streets away, and you trust that your only mission is to buy one measly lighter from the convenience store beside it.

birthdays were always a big deal for you, it was something satoru quickly learned from your days back at jujustu high. if it was someone’s birthday, it was safe was assume you’d be outside their door waiting with a cake. birthday candles too.

even now, several years after graduation, you still have the ability to conjure up everyone into a single location for a celebration. you were difficult to refuse. it’s one of your traits that satoru found the most admirable.

it’s painful that the drive is mostly silent, only filled with small talk that friends of two days would engage in. only, you’ve known satoru for much longer. there had been tension gradually building over the past couple of weeks, thick and ugly. satoru knows it’s his fault entirely, but he’s selfish and would rather let you suffer to keep his peace.

you arrive faster than you anticipate, a breath of relief leaving your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt, hand on the car door.

“two minutes, tops.”

satoru watches as you step out, hands in his lap.

he feels the cold breeze of the night air before the door is closed, and he’s left alone with his thoughts again.

fuck. fuck this.

this was torturous. with every passing day, he had only been pushing you further away. suguru’s words had been passing through his head like a broken record, repeating the same verse until it was beginning to drive him mad. something needs to change.

yes, yes it does.

he needed to take the initiative, as much as he dreaded it. he missed spending countless days together. he wanted them back.

satoru was just being a stubborn idiot, one that knows he’d be unable to really control his feelings. he’d just dig his own grave deeper, he supposes, until spontaneity ate at him and he could finally confess.

he remembers his teenage years, recalling the first actual time that shoko and suguru had cornered him.

it was a rainy day, excruciatingly slow. the three of them were hauled in satoru’s dorm, having nothing better to do than watch bad romcoms. you had been the only person sent out on a mission - only because you had been the only person who volunteered. it was uncommon for your classmates to worry about you in a a situation like this, knowing that yaga would only send you out so randomly when the issue wasn’t that big. two grade three curses, you’d be back soon.

except that wasn’t really the case.

you arrived back hours later than expected. bloody and bruised, clutching your arm to your side. grade one. jujustu high had incorrectly identified the curse. it had been able to split it’s body in three, as well as equally distribute it’s cursed energy. that was why it had fled detection.

impressionable, young, and (more notably) driven with anger, satoru argued for weeks with the higher ups.

gojo satoru was among one of the most respected jujustu sorcerers, even before adulthood. but it was an attempt in vain. jujustu would not fold by his say alone. he hadn’t even completely proved himself worthy of his title yet. the strongest, in jujustu high, definitely. but not strong enough. not yet.

and sure, you had made it out alive, but barely. weeks later, he’d wince at the announcement of your promotion to a grade one sorcerer. you were in the same boat as him and suguru now, all labeled as some of the best of the modern age for only being sixteen. he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

the perception of satoru changed after that. maybe he wasn’t just a heartless comic. of course, suguru and shoko were well-aware of it, but this was something deeper. the entire experience had shifted their white-haired classmate.

while you recovered in the infirmary, suguru and shoko took it as their chance. it was during a training day. shoko had stared for a while, meanwhile suguru was looking in every other direction. they ended up both speaking at the same time.

“you like her, don’t you?”

and satoru had just dumbly blinked.

more than anything, he had wanted to say. but he remembered how much of a coward he had been that day. he denied everything, even going so far as to get uncharacteristically upset. suguru and shoko never directly brought it up after that.

satoru sighs, leaning back against the car seat, raking a hand through his hair.

it had definitely been longer than two minutes. where were you?

uncomfortably, he sat up straighter, grabbing his phone to look at the time.

8:43pm.

ten minutes had gone by.

without thinking too much about it, satoru exits the car, heading straight towards the convenience store a few feet away. maybe you were grabbing something else?

the bells on the top of the door jingle as he enters, his eyes scanning the area. there’s a sense of relief that flushes through his body at the sight of you.

though not visibly damaged, satoru could easily tell from your posture that you were feeling some discomfort. you’re talking to the cashier — or, rather, the cashier was talking to you. there’s a safe distance between the both of you, the counter providing a more comforting separation.

you’re smiling, and it’s stiff. satoru recognizes it to be forceful. there’s hesitance in your polite nods and undoubtedly fake chuckles.

“i’m off in an hour.”

satoru’s eyes widen, and he steps behind an isle to hide his obvious eavesdropping.

“no… ha, i’m actually pretty busy at the moment-“

“give me your number, we can reschedule.”

the cashier’s voice sounds more demanding, remnants of the seductive tone he held dissipating. how long had this been going on for? satoru shakes his head, stepping back out.

he’s not really sure what takes over him. protectiveness, yes, but pleasure? excitement? maybe a little.

“hi, baby.”

it comes out too casual, and satoru raises an arm to wrap around your shoulders. he flashes the most shit-eating grin at the cashier. this feels right.

“you finish checking her out?”

there’s a flush of satisfying red that darkens the man’s face, and satoru chuckles.

“no, no, checking her out.” he points at the lighter on the counter with a raised brow. “we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

satoru could feel your gaze, head tilted upwards as you watch the entire interaction in silence. he could sense how tense you were, though you made no effort to separate yourself from him. whether it’s from the situation itself, or satoru falling into old habits, you nearly flinch when you feel him press a small kiss on your cheek.

“three dollars, please.”

beating you to it, satoru hands him his card. the man is avoiding all eye contact, head tilted down to stare at the counter.

you often forget how shamelessly smug gojo satoru can be. he never really exhibits that attitude around you, always sweet and respectful. you’ve only really gotten a peek at this different demeanor once or twice — back when you used to accompany him on missions. he can be ruthless. frighteningly ruthless.

after satoru pays (with an obnoxiously toned ‘thank you!’), there’s a hand on your back that leads you out the door. you’re compliant, mind wracking with undeniable confusion, submissive in a way that you’re sure you’d be embarrassed of under any other situation.

you’re nervous, you realize. because this is flirtatious, intimate, and it’s been so long since he’s had you this close.

“what a creep, huh?”

you’re back in the car, fingers fidgeting with one another as you force your eyes to stare out the window. there are so many words begging to be spoken on the tip of your tongue.

is it really possible for someone to spring back like that? as if it’s natural? no mind to the grief of a rotting friendship, or whatever the two of you had. you appreciate satoru’s concern for you like no other — but when it’s dominant like that? composure lost, behavior cocky. a glimpse of it is all you need, because how can he act like that after everything? it seemed so natural for him to be so possessive.

“you okay?” satoru’s eyes glance to you for a split second, fingers moving to turn on the engine. he pulls out of the parking lot, and in seconds you’re back on the main road. you’re digging your nails into your palms.

satoru worryingly looks over at you again, unsettled by your lack of response. he acts before he thinks, a hand reaching over in an attempt to gently grab yours.

“i’m really sorry i didn’t notice sooner. i would’ve-“

“are you upset that i kissed you?”

his hand retracts itself immediately. satoru wants to slam the breaks and scold you; complain to you for saying something so sudden as he’s driving. instead, his entire body tenses, and his grip on the steering wheel becomes incredibly tighter. you remembered, is all he’s thinking.

you mean for the question to come out more hostile than it does. instead, it’s weak. defeated, even.

“… what?”

“i’m just confused.”

it’s ugly word vomit, thoughts you don’t want to say out loud, but you’re frustrated. because how can he be so carefree, knowing that everything is dwindling? how much longer can you passively stay alive, ignoring that stinging wound in your heart that cuts itself deeper by the minute?

and why does he looked so shocked?

“you’re so… complicated, satoru.” you whisper, head leaning back as you close your eyes. you’ve had enough. if confrontation was something he was avoiding — then, fine. you’d hurt yourself first.

so many years of pining after him, just to have your heart broken in a few mere moments. darkness bites you, everywhere all at one. clouds appear, rain trickling down as if it's just routine. a hallway of endless disaster. maybe you had done some horrible things in your past - but was getting put through this turmoil really necessary? your heart hurt.

“i’m sorry i did it.” it’s cruel that you can physically feel your body giving out on you. your limbs lay heavy, lip trembling. “i really, really, am sorry.”

you look to the side to avoid everything about him. you weren’t going to be able to do this if you saw his face — that much you knew. in more comedic (and equally as depressing) lighting, you wanted to jump out of the car. anything sounded better than being beside him at the moment, really.

but you also wanted to see his eyes roll with affection. a teasing smile, a soft mention of your name. but nothing comes, and it leaves you to fill the unpleasant silence.

“you confuse me-“ you pause, wiping a stream of unwarranted tears that fall from your eyes. humility seeps through your soul. “you confuse me because you kissed back. and that gave me hope for a little.”

and it really had.

you had awoken that next morning with the biggest grin, an army of butterflies swarming through your stomach. you had laid in his bed for hours, up until you knew he was awake. you were anxious — thrilled to hear him ask you about it. satoru had always been confrontational, which is why when he had said absolutely nothing when he first saw you, it crushed all those butterflies in an instant.

you cried once you were finally home.

gojo satoru does not do anything to ease your pain. not then, not now. his eyes are stagnant, only focused on the road. for a moment, you genuinely wonder if he had even heard you. or, more realistically, if he was choosing not to.

bitterly, you press your palms to your eyes, sighing softly.

this would be it, then. you would have to walk back into your home, light candles on a cake, and wish his best friend a wonderful birthday. all while looking unaffected. because the boy next to you just refuses to respond.

everything, all this, just because you liked a boy.

satoru’s eyes are hazy, and he’s sure he might leave indents on the wheel from his grip. everything about him feels unstable. the world is out of orbit. it's spiraling, keeping him unbalanced. he can't think clearly.

“… you don’t understand.”

no other word choice could have possibly made you more aggravated. a simple rejection could have cut it, and you would have miserably accepted it too. but now, he’s just making it more convoluted, too irritatingly intricate.

“then, god, satoru. help me understand.”

that meekness once displayed is substituted with hurt. genuine, genuine hurt. hurt because this is your fault, hurt because you know you’re being selfish by solely blaming him, hurt because nothing can ever be straightforward when it came to satoru.

you notice him pull-over. it’s an empty parking lot, the only light coming from distant street lamps. you reckon you’d prefer if he just left you stranded there, or if he could have the heart to simply kill yours and take you out of your misery.

“you have a knife back here?”

“shut up.”

it’s dejected, and your attempt at making the tense situation a little more light-hearted fails disastrously. you don’t remember a time where satoru had ever looked this serious. the closest would maybe be when you were sixteen and stupid, almost getting yourself killed when fighting a grade one curse. you wonder if satoru thought of the ordeal with the same fondness.

probably not.

“look-“ the car is parked, and you almost back away when you register him leaning over the console. “listen to me, please.”

you forget how much you cherished the sight of his eyes. as did everyone, you imagined. if you could, you’d paint the world that color. cerulean blue, the shade that mimics real art. unobtainable naturally, but satoru has always been an exception, hasn’t he?

“you told me that you loved me.”

blunt and honest, staring into your very soul.

and you nod, eyes wide, flushed and suddenly embarrassed. because you did. and you meant it.

you loved him more than earth, more than words could explain. you’d recognize his touch under a hundred others, his hands by sight alone. but his stare is all too intense now, and you cower, backing up as much as the small space could let you. and he only gets closer, like a moth to a flame.

“i did.”

satoru lets out a heavy breath, eyes blazing. it’s the most obvious form of visible relief you think you’ve ever seen. because you actually remembered. and you weren’t robbing him by taking back your words.

“you kissed me.”

disbelief, satoru understands it as. he’ll keep asking, because his heart won’t believe it otherwise. this wasn’t a sick, barbaric dream. he’s here with you. and everything is reciprocated.

swallowing thickly, you nod again. the start of the mess.

except, this didn’t really feel like a bad thing anymore. there was tension, so evident it clouded your head, but the reasoning felt different. you lay down your defenses, subconsciously leaning into his warmth. your angelic being, a savior worthy of everything he wished to touch. you’re enchanted.

“i thought…” and his words are almost breathless, because he can feel his body moving closer to yours. he doesn’t stop it. “i thought you wouldn’t remember.”

you feel like a teenager again, hands shaking in nervousness — in fear. what if you closed your eyes? would he still be there?

and you almost want to laugh; tell him that it was all you could really think about for weeks. that softness in his eyes, the gentle affection of his voice. the kiss, god, this kiss.

instead, you shake your head.

“how could i forget?”

that felt impossible. satoru was an idiot, but not like that. he’s rational when he wants to be. you hope he knows that.

there’s a shy smile that adorns his face from your response, and you think you have never seen a more heavenly sight. he’s hesitant, gentle again, as he always was with you.

you lick your lips, sighing deeply in an attempt to fix your labored breathing. you feel like you might pass out.

“satoru.”

there’s a fondness in your voice that is unfamiliar. satoru likes it. he hums, not trusting his voice. he’d happily listen to you forever. you can ask him anything.

“what do you want?”

it’s patient, the tone you hold.

he’s not sure how to answer.

was that fear still there? he can’t turn back now. the friendship has sailed away, going miles overseas. it’s changed. for the better, he now thinks.

he wants you. he wants you so fucking badly that it might kill him. impatience surges through, annihilating the chance of peaceful composure — of any chance to be fair.

because his hands are in your hair, and you register the feeling of his lips before you can fully blink.

it’s pure selfishness, a carnal desire that takes you aback as you struggle to match his feverish movements. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, feeling. but you want it just as badly, if not more. you don’t protest, body moving by will as he grips the bottom of your legs to pull you over himself.

satoru can’t describe the feeling. he’s kissing you stupid. like he’s wanted to since he was sixteen. as an adult, now, he feels as if the wait was worth it. everything was worth it. you were worth everything.

it’s with hesitation that he pulls away, breath heavy, eyes incredibly dilated. his hands are firm on your hips, and he doesn’t dare to move them. they’re under your shirt, feeling the heat of the bare skin. you’re soft.

satoru thinks his heart will explode at the sight of you.

he can see your chest rising and falling. quickly, at that — he hadn’t given you time to breathe. you’re holding on to his shoulders, eyes avoiding his. there’s a pretty shade of pink he can barely see from the dim street light. satoru’s hold on your hips tightens while he stares. your lips are glistening and bruised, all results of him.

you’re shy, head bowing because your mind is reeling.

“hey.”

you feel satoru’s hand leave your side, and it settles itself on your chin. the movement is gentle, but firm. he tilts it up.

the look he gives you flips your stomach. if the universe placed it’s heavens and stars into his eyes, it’d surely be lackluster in comparison.

“hey.” your voice shakes, and it makes satoru grin.

he taps your thigh, tilting his head. “you okay?”

eyes wide, you nod quickly. “y-yeah. yeah. i’m okay.”

that dazed expression you have might be engraved into his memory until the day he dies.

“okay.” he whispers, smile so lovesick it kinda hurts. he brushes a hand up to your face, softly caressing the skin. you only watch him, trying to memorize every single feature — the way his hair falls, his lashes white as snow — as if you hadn’t already after all these years.

there’s a glint of wonder that you see, and you raise a brow, waiting for him to voice his thoughts. you try acting normal, though when you could audibly hear your heartbeat, it was difficult to do.

“what?” you mumble, smile now matching his. it’s infectious.

satoru hums, and you shiver as he leans forward, giving into the temptation to press an incredibly soft kiss on your lips. you let him - it’d be a crime to refuse.

you think you see blossoming gardens when you close your eyes. it’s colorful, mimicking that unexplainable feeling in your chest. unfamiliar, but welcomed. like a paradise, inviting you. you don’t want to leave.

when satoru pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

the words don’t feel rough on his tongue anymore. it’s only natural. keeping feelings bottled up was bad to do, right?

“i just love you, is all.”

satoru thinks he may have been horribly wrong.

no, this wasn’t scary at all.

[janell3]

Caleis was never a known party animal. She liked to study and read books in her free time. She didn’t like loud noises and crowded spaces because it made her feel uneasy. So when she woke up in bed with an unfamiliar warmth under her, she was even more confused.

She didn’t remember much of the night before, but she did recall going out to dinner for her best friend’s birthday party. What happened after that, however, was a forgotten mystery.

Her eyes fluttered open as she came to her senses. She looked around before discovering that this room was indeed not hers. Instead of her usual light grey walls, there were walls painted a dark blue. When she moved to get out of bed, the warmth under her moved as well.

Feeling the change under her, she jumped out of the bed. The random body lying there was a guy. A very hot-looking guy and he was looking at her as if she was crazy. He had sat up onto his elbows, the sheets fell down just below his v-line and happy trail.

"Are you o-"

"Who the fuck are you? How am I here? Please tell me what's going on." She questioned and begged for information all in a huge rush. As she clutched the duvet to her body, effectively covering everything.

Sensing her panic, he moved to the edge of the bed, holding up his arms as if he was approaching a timid animal.

"I don't remember what happened last night, but I'm guessing we slept together." He spoke in a thick Italian accent, a humorous tone lacing his voice. He edged his way toward the edge of the bed as he spoke. He only stopped when he got into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, my god. I had sex with a stranger. A stranger that I just met, which makes it so much worse. Where is Lysha? Does she know that I'm ok? What if she called the police while we were sleeping-" She rambled nervously. Her hands came up to cradle her face, totally forgetting that she was naked under the blanket. Her eyes began to water as she thought of all the possible things she could be putting her best friend through right now.

Strange guy scoots closer toward her and takes her hands into his with a worried look. He pulled her still standing-and naked- form toward him as he sat on the edge of the bed. She was now standing in between his legs as he spoke softly to her.

"Everything is okay. She called when you were still asleep so I answered it. I told her where we were and that you were okay. Hell, I even turned on your location so that she could see you on Life 360. I also told her that she wouldn't see you for the rest of the evening." He spoke to her softly and delicately as to calm her down before adding a bit of mischief in his voice.

"What do you mean? The rest of the evening?" She asked him, looking down at his very kissable lips. He nodded his head, standing to his full height. As he did, Caleis let out a small gasp at how tall he was. Her forehead brushed up against his chest.

Intimidated by his height, she looked down. Her eyes grew wide, his height wasn't the only place that he was above average. He began to pepper her neck with soft and tender kisses.

Little did she know she was about to experience his "skills" for a second time.

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

[sierraraeck]

How to Apologize

Spencer x Luke x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You can’t believe that for the four months since you’ve joined the team, and have been relentlessly flirting with the two hot agents, no one thought to tell you that they were together. Luke and Spencer decide they should apologize to you with an impromptu, late-night visit.

Category: Smut. Essentially pwp. A little fluff and a dash of angst if you squint.

Warnings: Cussing. Alcohol mentioned. Fingering (vaginal and anal), oral (male and female receiving), protected penetration, double penetration. Use of condoms and lube.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Welcome back to episode three of me being in love with Ralvez. I’ve just really been in a mood for them lately, so I hope you enjoy what my mind comes up with when I just keep thinking about them ;)

You’ve got to be shitting me.

You couldn’t believe it. Luke and Spencer were together, and had been for over a year now. You’d only been on the team for about four months, all of which you spent unabashedly flirting with both of them.

Everyone knew it, too. It wasn’t like you were particularly quiet about expressing how much you enjoyed their company, and how easy they were on the eyes. It was fun for you, and you thought it was fun for them. They both seemed kind of into it, and the team found it a little funny.

Now you’re understanding why they found it funny. Because the whole time, you’d been embarrassing yourself by flirting with taken men. And they weren’t just taken. They were dating each other.

“You’re joking,” you said, with absolutely no humor. You were sitting on a barstool looking around at the shit-eating grins around you. They all shook their heads.

Your mouth was agape, “You’re fucking joking. You all saw this happening and not one of you had the decency to tell me!? This is bullshit!”

This just caused more laughter to erupt around you. Luckily, the bar you were at was pretty noisy, so not too much attention was drawn to your group.

“Honestly?” Emily started, “We just wanted to see, you know, as a profiler, how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

“And we,” Luke hopped in, gesturing to him and Spencer, “Wanted to see how well we could control our microexpressions.”

“This is some shit,” you mumbled to yourself, still wrapping your head around what was being said. You were trying to be light-hearted about it, and you had to admit it was a pretty good one they pulled on you, but you still felt a little insulted. And embarrassed. Oh god, you felt really embarrassed. Especially now that you knew they were ‘testing your skills’ or something, and you weren’t good enough to pick up on their relationship. You offered a disbelieving smile and shook your head. “You know what? I’m disinviting myself from this, and I’m going to go home, because otherwise… Actually let’s not talk about what would be happening otherwise.” The whole team gave you some strange looks at that comment, and you just took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’m just gonna go.”

“Hey, Y/N, wait!” Tara called after you. You turned to face her. “We meant no harm by it!”

You laughed and acknowledged, “Oh, I know! I just think that maybe I should do a little mental detox now that I know I need to cool it.” You winked, trying to make everything calm and casual so that there would be no weird feelings when you returned to work on Monday.

But you definitely had weird feelings. About the deliberate joke that led you down a very deep rabbit hole, about the fact that you couldn’t just ‘detox’ the two men from your mind, and about how long they let the joke mess with your feelings.

It didn’t matter, though, because Spencer and Luke were together, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things complicated.

You were seated on your couch with a glass of wine watching reruns of your favorite show when you heard a knock at the door. You were in your pajamas, a navy tank top with matching shorts, and had been home for nearly two hours. It was a little past midnight, and you were actually about to go to bed. You couldn’t figure out who was at your door, and why the hell they’d be there past midnight, but one look through the peephole gave you clarity.

Two tall, handsome, nervous figures stood, waiting for you to answer. You sighed, unlocking the bolt and pulling the door open. You had the slightest idea to grab a jacket or something to throw on over your pajamas, but you were no longer trying to impress the agents before you.

“Hey guys,” you croaked, voice sounding tired.

Spencer and Luke were still acting a bit nervous, but Luke gave you a small smile. “Hey Y/N. May we come in?”

You gave them a once over, realizing they were both in large, matching, burgundy robes. You were confused, and gave them a strange look, but stepped to the side regardless. They quickly scampered into your apartment.

Once inside, Luke shut and locked the door, standing in front of it. You waited for them to say something.

Instead, they looked at each other, took a deep breath, then undid their robes, dropping them to the floor. They were completely and utterly naked.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, unable to peel your eyes away from the two of them.

They both smirked slightly at your reaction, and Spencer brought your attention back to his eyes when he said, “We figured we needed to apologize.”

All you could manage was a weak ‘uh-huh.’

“As long as you were serious about some of the things you said-” Luke started.

“And were actually flirting with us because you liked us-” Spencer continued.

“We wanted to show you that we were serious and flirting with you, too,” Luke concluded.

Again, all you got out was an ‘uh-huh.’ They looked at you expectantly, so you picked your jaw up off the floor and forced your brain to say something more helpful. “Yes, I was dead serious, yes, I was actually flirting with you, and, to answer your next question, yes.”

“The last yes was for what?” Luke half-teased.

“Whatever the fuck is happening right now,” you gestured to their bare forms, “yes.” They both laughed slightly, and just as Spencer was about to take a step toward you, you held up your hand. “Hold on, wait. I know you said you were serious, but is this something the two of you actually want, or is this just out of pity?” you asked skeptically.

Luke’s eyes went wide, “We actually want this.”

At the same time, Spencer said, “This is not out of pity.”

They seemed sincere, and that was good enough for you.

This time when Spencer stepped toward you, you didn’t stop him. His lips latched on to yours, and you immediately sank into his warmth. His lips were soft and his tongue was energetic, searching every part of your mouth it could reach. Luckily for you, he was already stark naked, giving you free reign to explore his bare chest.

As Spencer was exploring your mouth, Luke came up behind you and started lifting your shirt off your frame. His hands felt nice, just barely brushing up against your cold sides. You and Spencer had to part, but only for a moment, as Luke pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side.

You already felt like you couldn’t breathe, but when Luke seductively trailed his fingers up your sides and around between you and Spencer to start toying with your nipples, you thought you might never breathe again. Spencer started kissing down the column of your throat, sucking slightly at each point. Without Spencer’s mouth to absorb the sound, they could both hear the small gasps and whimpers you made at each touch.

Luke was firmly at your back, his hot chest pressed up against your shoulder blades, or maybe the fire radiating from them was all in your head, you couldn’t quite tell. Spencer wrapped his arms around your back, and pulled you all the way to him, leaving barely any room for Luke’s fingers to continue their ministrations. You made a snarky remark in your head about how you weren’t surprised about Spencer’s possessiveness, until he reached behind you. Luke groaned in your ear shortly after Spencer squeezed your ass and continued his trail to the growing bulge behind you. Spencer was quite good at multitasking. Kissing, sucking, stroking… That didn’t surprise you, however. You knew how fast his mind could work, and how it always seemed to be thinking about multiple things at once.

It didn’t really surprise you either that Luke was less good at multitasking. Still amazing, but not like Spencer. With that in mind, you decided to turn the attention of the group a little bit. You turned in Luke’s now still arms, back against Spencer’s chest. You gave Spencer enough room to continue massaging Luke, but you did lean forward enough to plant your lips on his.

Luke’s kiss was different from Spencer’s. His lips were plump and captivating, and his tongue was a bit more languid than Spencer’s, granted that could’ve been because most of his attention was being drawn elsewhere.

“Wait,” Luke panted, pulling away from you. You and Spencer both immediately stopped what you were doing and looked up at him. “Bedroom?”

You tilted your head in the direction of the door down hall, and the three of you moved like it was a mad dash to get there first.

Once inside, Luke’s lips reattached themselves to yours, and he walked you backwards toward the bed, hands on your waist. They traveled lower, over your still-clothed ass, and spread flat on the back of your thighs. Somehow, you knew what he wanted, lacing your fingers together behind his neck and jumping into his sculpted arms. He swiftly strode the rest of the way to the mattress and plopped you down, following quickly with his own body. Your legs were partially wrapped around his middle and his hands were back on your waist again, this time toying with the waistband of your pajama shorts. You had a fleeting thought about how you wished you were wearing any of the cute lingerie pieces in your drawer, but before ten minutes ago, you never thought the situation you were currently in would even be possible, let alone happen. It wouldn’t matter much longer anyways, as Luke’s fingers were pulling away the remaining garments.

Now, completely bare in front of him, Luke pulled back to admire you. Spencer was at his side, also eyeing you, but wasn’t quite as patient. He crawled up the bed, looking you straight in the eye. You nodded to him, your silent consent for him to lower his head, placing delicate kisses all around your neck and chest. He was back to doing what he had only moments ago, only this time he travelled farther down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You took a shuddering breath, weaving your fingers into his shaggy curls.

Luke stood, admiring the sight. His boyfriend was hunched over their mutual crush, drawing the most arousing whines from your mouth. It went straight to his cock. But, while this was definitely a mutual pleasure situation, it was also a way to make it up to you. He wanted to make sure you got all the attention first before going any further.

With that in mind, Luke joined the two of you, his focus a little farther south than Spencer’s. You’d been so caught up in the feeling of Spencer’s tongue and teeth nipping at your peaks that the feeling of Luke’s fingers circling your clit drew a dramatic gasp from your lungs. You tugged a little harder on Spencer’s locks, causing him to moan into your skin. You made a side note to yourself about hair pulling for Spencer for future reference. You were optimistic that you’d need it.

Luke started gradually picking up the pace on your clit as Spencer switched his attention to the neglected breast. You knew that you were already pooling, and despite not being able to see anything past Spencer’s mess of hair, you could tell that Luke was pleased. His index finger circled around your entrance, one, two, three times before pushing in. Your back arched off the sheets, pushing your nipples further into Spencer’s mouth and palm. Your jaw hung open in a silent moan.

Spencer noticed, and teased, “Come on, you’re usually not this quiet when it comes to expressing how much you enjoy our company.”

Luke leaned up, finger still pushing in and out of you, to see your face. He barely caught what Spencer was referencing, as you were trying to snap your jaw shut, and smirked down at you. He turned his head to the side and started kissing up the side of Spencer’s neck, who habitually craned it to the side, providing more access. Luke added a second digit, scissoring them inside you. Spencer hummed happily at the little hickies Luke was scattering all over his neck, and you felt the heat in your belly start to burn. God, it was so fucking hot, in every sense of the word.

Luke curled both of his fingers upwards, hitting that perfect spot, as he latched his lips to Spencer’s. With the combination of the sight and both men’s ministrations, you fell over the edge.

You squeezed your eyes shut, only a little disappointed that you couldn’t continue looking at them, as your lungs expelled any air you had in your chest.

When the waves of pleasure had mostly subsided, you managed to lift your eyelids, peering up at the sight above you. Luke and Spencer were still attached at the mouth, but they pulled away, Spencer laughing a little while Luke just grinned.

“Remind me to always kiss you like that when we have guests,” Luke said to Spencer, then winked at you. You gave a weak shrug, still too blissed out to form coherent sentences. It wasn’t your fault that the two people you’d been fantasizing about kissing on top of you turned you on. No way in hell you were ashamed about it, either.

Still laying there a bit dazed, the fluffy haired boys rolled over, taking all the heat with them. Spencer was hovering over Luke, tracing his tongue down Luke’s defined muscles before reaching his destination.

Spencer wasted no time running his flattened tongue up and down Luke’s length before sucking at the tip. Luke ran his fingers through Spencer’s hair, and both seemed to relax into each other. Despite the explicit sight in front of you, everything about the two of them, clearly starting to drift into their own world, was domestic. Caring and filled with love. You almost didn’t want to disrupt them, but the overpowering need to be near them won out.

Spencer’s lower half was over the edge of the bed, his toes being the only thing holding him up and giving him a vantage point. You slid off the bed yourself and tried to soundlessly move behind the younger man, coming to rest in a squat.

Spencer was getting Luke all worked up, raspy grunts mixing with satisfied hums as Spencer bobbed his head up and down. His movements came to a screeching halt when you leaned up against the foot of your bed and swiped your tongue quickly over Spencer’s tip. He let out a soft whine, muffled by Luke’s skin, who took a sharp inhale at the vibration.

Spencer’s dick was hard and spilling precum as you worked it into your mouth. His hips started moving of their own accord, forcing you to take him deeper, faster. The three of you started a steady rhythm that was already faltering. Both men were getting close.

Propped up only on your toes, you almost lost your balance once, digging your nails into Spencer’s side for support. He growled, and just because you could, you dragged your nails down the rest of his backside. All of the muscles tensed at once, and you smiled as best you could with your mouth full, moving your hands back to work what your tongue couldn’t.

Abruptly, Spencer pulled his hips back from you, and crawled further up the bed. You followed, getting up from your spot on the ground. Your toes, on the brink of cramping, weren’t complaining.

You realized why Spencer had pulled away so quickly, catching Luke coaxing Spencer into his lap. Even though they were in a slightly different position, it didn't stop you from what you’d been doing before.

Right as Spencer got situated on Luke’s cock, just starting to roll his hips, you took Spencer back in your mouth. You had one foot on the ground, the other knee next to Luke’s torso. Spencer was louder than you’d expected, letting curses and praises fly past his lips as if they were statistics of the utmost importance.

Luke was less vocal, but he seemed more coherent. Barely.

“Come here, baby,” Luke panted. Pulling off Spencer for a moment, you looked back at Luke. His face was already glistening, and he was gesturing toward your legs. You lifted the one closest to him, and he eased it over his head. Straddling his face, he pulled you down to him, licking a clean stripe up your slit. You moaned his name, letting your head hang.

He was just so warm. Everything about Luke was warm. His personality, his face, his tongue and mouth and literal body temperature. It made you feel safe. Thinking that, you realized just how perfect he was for Spencer. You could tell Spencer wasn’t someone who experienced warmth very frequently, you’d heard about his cold past, but you were happy that there was finally someone to show him some. It made you feel even more embarrassed that you hadn’t noticed their relationship sooner.

Lost in thought, you’d stopped doing anything besides feeling Luke’s tongue alternate between pushing into you and swirling around your clit, something Spencer was less excited about. His large hand cupped your face, causing you to look up into his pleading eyes. You stifled a giggle at the sight, quickly figuring out why he was looking at you like that. You returned to tracing your tongue up and down his cock, but it was becoming much harder to focus.

Luckily, you could feel how close Spencer was to finishing, and gave him the silent ‘okay’ to finish in your mouth.

Hot ropes of cum filled your throat, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes when Spencer pushed all the way into your mouth. You were gasping for air when Spencer leaned back from you, and so was Luke as he desperately called Spencer’s name. He must’ve been close when Spencer momentarily stopped moving to find his own release.

The pressure between your hips was building as you continued to watch Luke disappear inside Spencer. You started wriggling your hips for more friction against Luke’s mouth and slight scruff, but Luke wouldn’t let you. He wrapped his arms almost completely around your waist, and pulled you down like an anchor. No matter how much moving you did, there would be no getting out of his grasp, not like you really wanted to anyway.

You couldn’t tell which one of you finished first, but your collective moans filled the air all the same. You whined at Luke who continued to lick up every ounce of moisture from you, the sensations starting to become a little too much.

He let you go, and you took a moment or two to deep breathe, forcing oxygen back into your lungs. Once Spencer thought you’d gotten sufficient air, he took it all away from you again, leaning down to kiss you. He tasted himself on your tongue, which only made him relive the fresh memory over again.

He peppered little kisses down your neck and side, which was a tad ticklish. Spencer caught on despite you trying to keep yourself together, noticing the slight flinching in your muscles. He spent extra time working you up until you were laughing and begging him to stop.

Spencer was working his way down to Luke, who’d been absentmindedly massaging your cheeks for no other reason than he wanted to touch your tush.

You weren't sure how, but the two tall men were able to kiss each other around you, Luke sitting up and Spencer leaning forward. He got to taste you off of Luke’s lips, and was almost jealous that he didn’t decide to take Luke’s spot instead.

You leaned into Luke’s chest, resting your head on his shoulder and reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his soft curls, much shorter than Spencer’s but fun to play with nonetheless. They kissed each other with more passion than you’d really ever seen before, one hand touching the other man, their other hand tracing the curves of your body. You felt like you could fall asleep in the exact position you were in, half on Luke’s lap, half on Spencer’s.

But alas, there was still plenty of night to fill. Spencer asked if you had any lube and condoms, and you were about to get up and get them, but both men kept you where you were. You started wondering how much the two of them talked about or planned before showing up at your door, but decided those were questions for a later hour.

You directed Spencer to where both were kept while Luke turned you around to face him. You had a very quick discussion about cleanliness, something you were relieved to find out wasn’t an issue for any party, and Luke was sliding on a condom and pushing into you before you knew it. Pregnancy wasn’t something you were looking for at the moment.

Luke had been doing most of the work up until Spencer returned, his presence really only being a shifting of air behind you. Your eyes were locked on Luke’s eyes which were flicking between you and the man behind you.

It took you all the way up until Spencer’s hip bones came in contact with your ass that you realized what Spencer wanted the lube for. That and the guttural groan that ripped itself from Luke’s chest. At that point, Luke had stilled his thrusts up into you, so you decided to keep the pace, bouncing up and down on Luke’s ever-hardening dick. You braced yourself with a hand on his chest, his skin feeling like it might melt your fingertips.

Spencer snaked his hands around your body, cupping your breast in his hands and rolling your nipples around between his fingers. Spencer, you were convinced, had bad circulation, feeling colder than you and Luke. You arched your back into him regardless, giving him full access to nip down your neck as he continued to pound into Luke. You had barely noticed the slowing of your hips atop Luke’s until Spencer placed his hands on your waist with a bruising grip. He set a much faster pace for you and Luke than either of you had set before, but you couldn’t be mad. Each thrust pushed you further and further toward the edge.

That all stopped when Spencer lightly leaned you over Luke’s body, Luke gladly accepting by pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around your back. The three of you were still moving, but only in the slightest way you could from your positions.

With your face buried in Luke’s neck, reveling in the momentary reprieve of a slower pace, Luke must’ve been looking at Spencer who was tracing all sorts of patterns on your ass. You felt like there was a silent conversation you were being left out of.

You were clued in when Spencer traced a single finger right over your puckered hole, all the muscles contracting at the sudden contact. Luke whined at the tension, as he was still completely sheathed inside you.

Spencer lightly continued his tracing, close but not too close, as he leaned over your back and asked, “Is it okay if I touch you here?” He emphasized his words with another swipe over your hole. This time, you were a bit more prepared.

You twisted your neck around to look at Spencer’s face. It was soft and questioning, showing you that, while he was interested, he clearly wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want to. But you were intrigued. You’d only ever tried it once before with a definitely straight man, and it was just medium. Nothing you had really considered doing again until now, but you trusted Spencer. And honestly, who better to give it a second chance with than someone who knew what he was doing? Not only that, but frequently participated in it with his boyfriend?

You nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Let us know if you are ever uncomfortable or need us to stop,” Luke reminded.

You turned your attention back to him and nodded again. “I will.”

Now with confirmation from you, Spencer dripped some of your lube at the top of your ass, watching it roll all the way down to where you and Luke were connected. Luke had stopped moving completely, and you were staying still enough for Spencer to slowly push a finger into you. He confirmed with you one more time that you were okay, which you assured him you were, before he started moving.

He was nice and slow to start, allowing you time to adjust to the feeling. As Luke started rocking back and forth with his hips, Spencer added a second finger, scissoring them to help stretch you out. You hissed at the added pressure.

Both men started moving a bit faster, pulling gasps out of you faster than you could bring air back in. You were surprised that you whined when Spencer removed his fingers, not realizing how much you were actually enjoying yourself. You felt empty with the loss of contact, but didn’t have to worry for long when the familiar ‘pop’ of the lube cap let you know it had been opened.

A few moments later and Spencer was filling you up at a tantalizing pace. Luke slowed again, allowing you time to adjust to the new sensations. The man at your back pulled clean out of you, drawing yet another whimper, as the one below you placed his firm hands on you back and rolled the two of you to the side.

Spencer was at your back again, already pushing back into you as Luke pulled your top leg over his hips, giving both men better access.

It started out slow and sensual, but gradually turned into something desperate and frantic. Hands were groping over bodies, mouths were attaching themselves to any lips or skin available. Spencer was massaging your tits from behind and Luke hand his arms draped over your hips to bring you closer to him with each thrust by your ass. The three of you were a mess of limbs and moans, each trying to meet your end.

Spencer came first, sloppy thrusts coming to a halt behind you, and tried to muffle his groans in the flesh of the base of your neck. It didn’t help much. You were right behind him, the brutal pace they had been pounding into you becoming too much. You were worried you might have blown Luke’s eardrum out with how closely you were screaming next to him, a sound your neighbor was sure to mention when filing a complaint you couldn’t care to feel guilty about.

You and Spencer were floating down from your highs, but Luke wasn’t as satisfied. He pulled out of you, cold air hitting your body and sending a shock through your system. His lips were on yours quickly, which had you melting again.

He growled in that deep voice of his about turning you around, which made you feel all tingly until he actually did it. It took more effort than you care to admit to simply change sides, facing Spencer now. It was good to look at his face again. You had absolutely no problem with Luke’s (who would?), but you wanted to look at them equally. Unfortunately, you weren’t born with eyes in the back of your head.

You were back in the same position you’d been in, just this time your other leg was propped up on Spencer’s more pronounced hip bones and not Luke’s. Spencer quickly took advantage of getting to see your face head on, capturing your lips with his. His tongue slid into your mouth when you gasped at the feeling of Luke entering you from behind. It was a bit easier for him to slide in, Spencer having already stretched you out. Luke joined Spencer as they both kissed down your neck, only stopping briefly to kiss each other.

The slightly younger man trailed all the way down to your breasts, taking your nubs in his mouth or fingers. Luke was still marking up your neck, brushing his fingers down your sides. With each of his thrusts, your heat was grinding against Spencer’s length, which you felt continually get harder. He looked into your eyes and you whispered the few words of your consent, not being able to get anything else out.

He bucked his hips up into yours, having no trouble as you were still wet from your previous orgasm and your impending one. The feeling of the two of them pushing and pulling inside you, hitting different spots from different angles, you knew you weren’t going to last long. It just felt so good to be completely filled up to the hilt.

Needing something to grasp on to, your fingers immediately found Spencer’s curls. You remembered from earlier he seemed to like it, so you tugged, pulling a delicious groan from his pink and puffy lips. You felt Luke’s labored breath on your ear, and with the few brain cells that were still working, you could tell that the three of you were very, very close.

You snapped first, clawing your nails down Spencer’s back, and the feeling seemed to be enough for him. The sound of his love and his crush moaning in harmony pushed Luke over the edge, joining your symphony.

The three of you laid there panting before both men got up to remove their condoms. Luke came back with a towel to wipe you clean of yourself, Spencer putting the lube back where he found it. Luke tossed the towel to the side, laying down next to you. Spencer walked back into your room on slightly shaky legs, which made you smile just a bit. He, too, collapsed next to you. You were able to see all the red marks on his back and thighs from your nails, and you almost felt bad for not spreading the wealth around a little more, only Spencer’s skin receiving the assault.

Soon, all of your breathing reached a normal level, and Spencer pulled the sheets up over his body, Luke helping him get you under, then sliding under himself.

You sighed with content, then laughed, drawing both men’s attention to you, as if it weren’t already. “Wow. You sure know how to apologize.”

They both chuckled with you, cuddling even closer now.

“So was it worth it?” Luke half-teased.

You pretended to think about it, but replied, cheeky, “I mean, you could have told me sooner, but I guess I don’t mind the two of you needing to apologize.” And to be honest, you hoped there’d be more reasons for apologies in the future.

[rosiehrs]

kissing lessons | rosé

group ; blackpink  genre ; fluff 

pairing ; cheerleader!!rosé / fem!reader

summary ; roseanne asks you for kissing lessons to help impress the person she had a crush on. little did you know she only used it as an excuse to lock lips with you.

warnings ; mentions of sex, swearing

a/n ; this is the first thing i’ve written in approximately 4 months so it’s very rusty but i’m pretty glad i’ve managed to finally write something – woo! also not proofread xx

word count ; 2.7k

“i need kissing lessons.”

was the first thing she said to you when she entered the room. you looked up from your book in shock, “you need what now?”

“i need kissing lessons. from you.” she repeated. you examined her, looking for any sign of humor on her face, but there was none. right before you, stood the school’s most loved and popular girl, roseanne park. the both of you weren’t that close as you were one of the middle class, average kids while she was up there, rich and popular. she always tried talking and being friendly to you, you found it odd at first as she would just come out of nowhere and suddenly ask you about your day, but you’ve grown to appreciate and love her small acts of kindness. she looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and hopeful eyes. saying you were speechless was an understatement. did the head cheerleader and long time crush really ask you to give her kissing lessons?

“okay, hold up. could you fill me in really quickly? why on earth do you need kissing lessons?”

“It’s silly, but i kinda like someone..” she began, looking away. she tried hiding it, but the biggest smile was plastered on her face and you knew whoever this ‘someone’ was – was really special. you were flattered, but even more hurt. you had no place to be hurt as you were even closer with your locker than you were with her, but you couldn’t help it. you were more than glad that she asked you to help her improve her kissing skills, but knowing she wants you to help her impress someone else really managed to hurt your heart a little. “ms park has a crush! who’s this special someone?” you asked in a teasing tone. roseanne rolled her eyes and sat down next to you. “i’m not telling you, but i just really need your help.” she stared at you, basically begging with her eyes.

“i would love to, but you didn’t answer my question. why would you, roseanne park, the heartthrob of the school, need kissing lessons? from me?”

“because i’m pretty fucking inexperienced and have kissed like 3 people in my life? and those three people have barely given me anything more than a peck, oh and the kisses that went further made me down a whole bottle of mouthwash afterwards.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s words, “also because i’ve heard you’re a pretty good kisser, but i’m not telling you where i got that information from.” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, although you were very flattered, you didn’t know how to react. 

“come on, y/l/n. i’m not asking you to help me get better at sex- although i wouldn’t mind doing that with you-” you threw your rubber at her, making her giggle. “you suck.” you replied, making her smile. “i might be sucking something soon-” 

“park! shut up!” you scolded. she laughed at you and shook her head. “so? what do you say, y/n?” 

nodding and closing your book, you straighten your posture. “alright roseanne park, i’ll give you kissing lessons.���

roseanne looked at you with bright eyes and a wide smile, “yes! oh my god, thank you, y/n!” she replied, bringing you into a tight hug. “i owe you.” she whispered.

“you bet you do. now get your ass up and let’s get to class.”

–––

you spent the whole day worrying, it only just processed in your mind that roseanne wanted you to help her with her kissing. meaning you’d have to kiss her. panic rushed through you, holy shit. you were going to kiss roseanne park. the last period had just come to a halt and you packed your things slowly. your mind was all over the place and you didn’t know how to feel. once you stepped outside the classroom, the blond herself linked arms with you and dragged you out of school. “let’s get outta here, y/l/n.”

you let out a light chuckle as you got into her car, not long after she got in. “um, so my parents are out of town right now. should we head there?” she asked, looking at you through the rear view mirror. everything was just so bubbly and confusing, were you really about to do this? with roseanne park?

her voice snapped you out of your little mind debate, “y/n? you alright?” 

“oh no, yeah i’m fine. your house is fine.” you replied, making her giggle. “loosen up, y/l/n, i’m not gonna bite you.” 

“yet.” she smirked, you immediately looked at her – a beautifully elegant laugh escaped her lips. “i’m kidding – unless?” you smacked her leg, masking you blush away with a playful scowl. “just drive, park.” roseanne smiled and started the engine.

–––

the both of you sat down on her bed, placing your things down. rosé bounced down on the bed, excitedly, using the both of her hands to slap the mattress. “now how would you say i should improve, miss y/l/n?”

smiling sheepishly, you fixed your things. “now i wouldn’t know yet, miss park.”

“okay, so find out. i really need to impress this person.”

you kept your head down, trying to hide the disappointment on your face. she really needs to impress this person, this is just to help her with the person she has feelings for. and god, did you hate to think about it like that. but your heart was pounding and as much as you hated to admit it – you were excited to finally feel roseanne’s lips. “geez, easy, tiger. give me some time to prepare my lips or something.” you replied, making the aussie laugh. “well hurry, i need these lessons asap.”

“girl, what are you planning to do with your mystery lover? i’m pretty worried,” roseanne smacked your shoulder before grabbing her lip balm. “put it on.” 

you removed the lid of the stick and applied it onto your lips. she looked at you, as if she was waiting for you to do something. her eyes were almost screaming, “come kiss me already.”

“y/l/n, do i really have to make the first move here?” she teased, making you roll your eyes and lean in. you placed your hand on her jaw as she placed hers on your cheek. slowly but surely, the both of you started to lean in. you closed your eyes, waiting. it felt like forever until her lips finally touched yours. it felt like everything had just stopped, you knew you had to give her pointers and ways to improve on how she was kissing, but all you could focus on was how soft her lips felt against yours, how addictive the tingles felt. your lips moved against each other softly and elegantly. you were so caught up in the moment – you were running out of air, so that’s when you finally pulled away. she rested her forehead on yours, out of breath like you were. 

finally opening your eyes, the both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours. trying to really find out what the both of you were thinking. “i-” you started, your mind was blank. the only thing on your mind was the way her lips felt on yours, how soft, how sweet and how addictive her lips were. “well- i just.. you-”

“fuck, am i that bad?” she asked, worried. you were shocked, “no! god, no. you’re good, really good. i- i just don’t know how i’m supposed to help you after that.” you laughed, making her do the same. you went completely blank, you just stared at her, examined her. you really saw how beautiful and elegant she looked. “come on, y/l/n, give me something. like.. like how you felt! was i too soft? was there too much teeth? tongue, even?” she asked eagerly yet nervously. the tone of her voice and the look on her face was just beyond adorable. you giggled at the girl’s actions and shook your head. “roseanne, relax. you were great, it was – how do i say this without being creepy.. perfect? you don’t need any lessons, park.”

“oh come on, y/n. you don’t have to sugar coat it, give me the truth. go into details.. please?”

details, she wanted details. well shit.

“um, alright.. um, it was soft. but not in a bad way, it was sweet, gentle. perfect idea of a first kiss. i don’t- i don’t know how else to describe it. you’re good. end of story, park.” your words put a smile on her face, it made her feel proud, happy. “oh really?” she smirked, earning herself a smack on the arm. “shut up, rosie. you asked for the truth and i gave it to you. i’m gonna go home now..” you stood up, but was immediately pulled back down. “nuh uh, you’re not leaving. it’s been like 10 minutes, i just- i wanna improve. maybe go out of the kissing, how was the position of.. my hand? my body?”

you got to thinking, might as well give her something, right?

“okay well, maybe when you hold their cheek. just..” hesitantly, you leaned in and held her cheek in your hand. “before leaning in maybe just..” you caressed her cheek with the soft pad of your thumb making the girl blush a bright shade of red. “then when you kiss them, you could pull them closer.. like this-” softly, you pulled her closer to you. you were barely an inch away from her lips and you could feel her hot breath. everything you did made you feel so, so weak. you felt so vulnerable being this close to her. it felt unreal and you felt as if everything was just perfect at that moment.

roseanne’s eyes were glued to your lips and just couldn’t shake the feeling off, it felt so right. “should i try it on you?” she asked, breaking the silence. you cleared your throat and backed away. “um, yeah.. yeah go ahead.” you sat up straight as she brought her hand to your cheek. gulping, she caressed your cheek exactly how you did. her eyes were glued to your lips, she began nibbling on her bottom lip before pulling you closer and placing her lips on yours.

fireworks, butterflies, that was all you felt. her lips moved against yours, gracefully. before she could get carried away, she pulled back, staring into your eyes.

“i-..”

“was that good?”

“y-yeah, it was good.”

the awkward silence ate the both of you up, making you stand up. “um, i’m gonna get home. good first lesson, you’ll be fine, park.” you grabbed your things until she stopped you by grabbing your hand. “wait! i.. could you possibly.. give me more lessons? i don’t think i’m at my best yet.”

“oh, uh- yeah. sure, yeah, alright. just.. text me.” you replied, giving her an awkward smile. she nodded before standing up. “i’ll, can i drive you home?” she asked. “oh! no, please. it’s alright, i’ll just call an uber-”

“no, i insist! it’s the least i could do after you agreeing to help me out.” you were about to protest as she grabbed your bag and your hand. “come on, ms good kisser.” you giggled as you let her drag you out. 

––

“okay, what on earth is going on between you and chaeyoung?” joy, your beloved best friend asks. “i- nothing, i’m just giving her kissing lessons..” 

“you’re WHAT?!” she yelled, making you flinch. “sooyoung! be quiet!” you scolded, pulling her back down. “how long have you been giving ms. head cheerleader kissing lessons?!” she was shocked and offended - clearly. “just a few weeks.. relax.” 

“how could i possibly relax when i’ve just found out my best friend has been making out with the school’s most popular girl?! you bitch! why haven’t you told me?!” she slapped your arm, angrily. you couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s actions. she’s been there for you since you were 3 and you’ve pretty much told her everything that’s happened in your life, whether it’s when you had your first kiss or that one time you stepped on gum and you had to walk barefoot the whole day. “i didn’t tell you because i knew you’d tease the shit out of me!” you protested.

“well yeah, alright. understandable, but y/n?! you’ve been making out with the love of your life – how does it feel?” she replied, smirking at you. “shut up before i smack that smirk off your face.” sooyoung laughed and shoved you. “i hate you! why would she need kissing lessons? and why would she get kissing lessons from you?” she asked, disgust evident on her face and the tone of her voice. “she said she really wanted to impress the person she likes, and also i will quite literally-”

“y/n! wait up!” a familiar sweet voice called out for you. you and joy turned around, seeing the said girl running towards your direction. she had her hair in a tight ponytail and was wearing her cute, perky and hot cheerleading uniform. “hi cutie,” she greeted, making you smile. “hey chae.”

“um, i was wondering if i could have another lesson? today, after school maybe?” she asked, but it sounded more like she was letting you know. “sure,” you agreed, smiling. “alright, see you around.” she then walked off, swaying her hips and her ponytail along with it. your eyes were glued onto her and joy just couldn’t hold herself back. “oh my fuck, you whipped motherfucker.”

“shut up, chicken joy. let’s just get to class.”

“do you even know who she likes?” joy’s question really caught your attention. you’ve been giving roseanne kissing lessons for about 3 weeks and you still have no idea about who she has feelings for. “oh, um.. well-”

“ha! you don’t! you know what that means,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “no, i don’t know what that means, park sooyoung.” 

“ah, you lovesick fool.”

––

you and rosé walked into her room casually, putting your things down and talking about your day at school. you laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she talked about how these boys stole her box of apple juice at lunch.

“hey.. you alright?” she asked, obviously concerned about your sudden silence. “yeah, i’m fine. i’m actually just curious about something.” you said it that way so she would ask you what you were curious about. you hated bringing things up out of the blue, it was just easier this way. 

“oh sure, what’s up, sweetcheeks?” she rested her head on her palm as she laid on the bed, looking at you with such intent.

“who.. who do you like? who means so much to you that you’d be willing to get kissing lessons from me?” the question froze roseanne up. you saw how her shoulders tensed up and how her face fell. you watched as she sat up and cleared her throat. “um.. can you come here, please?” she asked quietly, patting the space next to her. you pushed yourself up and crawled to the space next to her. “what’s up?”

“um.. how do i say this..” she fiddled with her fingers and nibbled on her bottom lip. she was nervous and you could see it. “hey, are you alright?” you asked as you placed your hands over hers to calm her down. chaeyoung looked up and pulled you in for a kiss. 

soft, gentle, passionate. it didn’t matter how many times you kissed her, it always managed to blow your mind. her tongue entered your mouth softly, she pulled you in closer with her left hand on your cheek and right hand on your waist. the lessons you gave her really paid off, she was perfect. she tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss. once again - it felt like everything around you was floating and you were just on cloud 9. every time roseanne’s lips were on yours, you felt as if everything was just perfect. like nothing could be better. she softly pulled away with her hand still on your cheek. 

“it’s you.”

[cheekygreenty]

His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

[yesokaythatsfine69]

You Sexy Thing (Levi Ackerman x reader)

Description: Often Captain Levi is a little shit, and sometimes- he needs to be reminded about who's in control.

Character(s): Y/n, Levi

Pov: 2nd person, third person

Warning(s): SMUT!!! PORN WITHOUT PLOT- PEGGING, 18+

A/n: I keep seeing all this talk about pegging Levi Ackerman but I couldn't find anything to show- so in the words of Thanos, "I guess I'll do it myself"

Word Count:

*none of the Gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker :)

Your fists clenched, nails digging into the palms, on the verge of breaking skin. The yelps of your fellow squad members caused your teeth to grind. They had to have ran over four miles today- probably more- they had to do suicides double time, all of this shit and more were because the lovely supreme commander of heaven and hell, Squad leader Levi Ackerman had felt their cleaning of the stalls had been less than ideal.

Currently you were in the midst of doing push ups till he deemed fit. You glanced up at the captain, watching as his silver eyes roamed over the lot of you. Even as you seethed and raged- he was still the most gorgeous sight your eyes had ever laid upon. Levi's hair was raven black, in contrast to his light skin and silvery orbs. His hair was what caught you at first- the way it seemed to fall over his eyes just a bit.

It was long enough you could pull your fingers through- you were sure. You could only imagined how soft it must be. Levi facial features also caught you at a loss for words- they were quite dainty. Long black eye lashes, a soft line nose, and thin pink lips. God, was he pretty.

Your eyes moved from their spot, away from your Adonis and to the ground. No matter how pretty he was, he was still a bastard.

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, flexing your fists. The pain of doing another pushup finally getting to you. "Tch, I think you've all learned your lessons." You looked up again, knees dropping. The Devil himself spoke, lifting his hand and waving it in dismissal. "Go to the showers, you brats stink." Blowing a strand of hair from your eye, you rolled your shoulders back, taking Petra's outstretched hand as you bounded up.

No one spoke as they dispersed. You were itching for a shower, and you practically ran to get one.

You were dead tired, dead sleepy, and running on pure anger.

You watched the water flow into the drain near your feet, fixated on nothing but the boiling water as it hit you. Your anger had not evaporated-it simply grew. If he thought he could've done a better job, maybe he should have done it. You slammed the water off.

Or perhaps- and this was just a thought- he could let you get some real training in, instead of wasting your time and energy on being punished.

Punished.

Your eyes narrowed.

You stepped from the shower, one foot at a time.

Perhaps...the omnipotent captain Levi deserved a punishment of his own. Something that would...bring him down a peg.

You smiled, remembering a certain box hid underneath just for this type of reason.

"I think I might have just the thing."

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Levi was just as sexy (if not more) than he was pretty. Something about him, oozed it. Maybe it was the way he walked, confident but not egotistical. They way spoke- his voice. His dry humor, his bleak expressions, his impeccable fighting skills and savagery...his taunt ass, or maybe it was the way his uniform hugged his body.

Your hands tugged at a box that laid deep beneath your bed. It scraped against the floor, finally sliding directly in front of you. You unhooked the latch, pulling out the important piece of equipment you'd need tonight.

You bit your tongue.

--------------------------------------------------

The truth was, you could spot a bottom from a mile away. It was also the people who needed control in their daily lives- people who needed everything perfect. At night they liked to take a break- to be controlled. Who were you to judge? You couldn't blame them, not hardly.

You knocked at his office door. It was late, barely a few minutes before lights out. For several seconds nothing happened, but you waited. Patience was a specialty.

"Come in." The tone was annoyed, and as you entered you could see why. He had stacks of papers before him, a signal candle lighting the room. Levi rubbed his temples, a sign that the dim lighting had an affect.

His eyes flickered up to met yours, "lieutenant Y/L/N?" The air was tense and goosebumps erupted across your forearms. "Captain Levi, I'm glad I caught you." His Expression remained unchanging. "Tch, yeah, I'm sure. What do you want, brat?"

You smiled, your hands intertwining from behind your back. "You to apologise." His entire body paused. Levi twitched his head to the side, a small movement. "Oh? So you're here to waste both are times then, y/l/n." You turned, locking his office door behind you.

Levi stood. "Oi, oi, oi, what do you think you're doing?" You turned back to face him. "The only person who wasted our time today was you." His eyes narrowed slightly. This was a side of you he hadn't been used to. Sure, he'd seen this intense focus on your face before, this same expression you wore when you sliced and diced titan after titan.

"Tch, what are you on about you stupid-" I'm flash you had his hair in your grip, dragging his head to you. "It's not nice to call people stupid, Levi." His eyes were wide, and his face was inches away from your own. "I can forgive that though, especially when you look so pretty like this."

His eyes sunk back, his shock leaving him. "Oi, I guess you've got me where you want me." You smiled, innocence twinkled in your irises. "Not yet I don't." Loosening your tight grip, you gently guided his head to close the gap between you two.

His eyes fluttered close upon impact, the tenseness he often carried with his resolve melting away with the warmth of your lips. You hummed, feeling the way he seemed to open up with your touch. Gently you scratched his scalp, pulling a sigh from his mouth.

When it opened you wasted no time slipping in your tongue. He tasted like tea, which wasn't suprising but was rather delightful. He let out a small groan as she gave his bottom lip a small bite, tugging softly. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, dancing across his warm chest and abs. The feeling of what lied beneath was enticing and she pulled away eager to see it.

Levi groaned when you left him, an irritated, "y/n." Leaving his lips as his arms tried to find you, to bring you back to him. You escaped him though and worked to pull his shirt off.

When you had an object so important it was natural that worked as efficiently as possible to succeed. With that mindset you had him shirtless within seconds, Levi felt that had to be some type of record.

With his comfort in mind as soon as his shirt was off you folded it properly, working as efficiently as you had to take if off of him. When your eyes met his, they twinkled with something akin to admiration. You smiled and pulled him into a chaste kiss, his tongue moving to part your lips, but fire he could succeed you began moving.

You kissed his chin, and he frowned. "What are-" Then you kissed his neck and a shiver racked his body. His breath quickened and shook, your lips planting directly over his heartbeat. You sucked, making sure to leave him as many reminders of tonight as you could.

Your lips moved down his chest, blessing each nipple with a tug of teeth. Licking a stripe down his v line, you unbottoned his pants. He moaned, "y/n..." Watching as you tugged down his underwear with your teeth. His length sprained free, looking almost as eager as you.

"Stunning..." You spoke licking a line up his shaft. His legs shook at your move and you laughed, wrapping your first around his base. "It can't be this easy, Levi." He blinked looking down at you in bewilderment.

You lifted yourself up, becoming eye level with him. As light as a feather you stroked his cheek, his head leaning into your hand as though it were instinct. "I figured humanity's strongest would have put up more of fight." His eyes narrowed. "Especially since you seem to love giving orders." Your nails stabbed into his skin, his eyes widened and he pulled back "tch! You bitch!"

Your other hand grabbed his neck, squeezing it and bringing him to you. "I've wanted you for so long. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be so close and yet so far, to someone everyone wants." "Y/n." Levi whimpered as your hand tightened around his throat. "Maybe you do know how much you're wanted. Maybe you like it." You let go and he fell forward, you catching him.

"I guess we'll just have to add that to lists of why you must be punished." You pushed him to his knees, his pants still wrapped around his ankles. Your foot spread his legs apart, and kept them there. Your hand found his chin, pulling his face up.

"i hope you like this view, you'll need to get used to it." You pulled up your shirt, taking it off effortlessly. His eyes widened at your chest- you had chosen to go braless. Then, they relaxed, his tongue going between his teeth.

You pulled your pants off next, and then your underwear. The strap you had put on before you left your room flung out, and Levi looked between you and it. "Like I said, you need to be punished..." You stroked the strap on. "I consider this the punisher." You voice had dropped an octave lower.

Levi took on a dazed expression, half lidden eyes taking in the sight. "Open your mouth." His eyes flickered back up to you. They were big and puppy like."I said." You reached down and pinched his two cheeks together. "Open. Your. Mouth." His pretty little mouth popped open, and your hips thrusted the device in. Your hand ran through his hair as he sucked, when you reached the back of his head you pushed him forward.

Levi gagged around your cock, the fake tip hitting the back of his throat. Tears prickled, in his eyes, but your coos to take in more, to be a good boy for you, they caused his brows the furrow as he adjusted and did what he could to please you.

Using your grip on his head he allowed you guide him at your will, submitting to the drive of your hands. His eyes closed finally and your leg pressed up against his own hard on. "Who would've thought humanity's strongest could look so hot sucking dick." You spoke softly, causing your good boy to moan into the dick.

Finally, you pulled away watching the strings of salvia appear and separate as you let him go. His head bobbled towards you, his eyes barely open.

"fuck me...please." you bent down to where he was. "Oh baby..." Again, you stroked his cheek gently. "I'll do so much more than that to you. When I'm done with you...you won't be able to walk tomorrow." His breathe caught and you laughed. "Be my good boy and go to your desk. Ass out."

You watched him stand and walk to his desk, still filled with long forgotten papers and a dimly lit candle. You stood and moved to the neat pile you had placed his clothes in.

You pulled out his belt, smiling and snapping it. This could be useful.

You moved to where he stood, wrapping yourself behind him. "How well you listen, Levi." You slammed his upper body down onto the desk, pulling his hips up. His ass was on full display in the air, as perky as you imagined. Taking two fingers, you shoved them up is mouth.

Levi didn't need a command, his tongue went right to work. He wrapped it around your fingers while he moaned, pushing his hips against you and your cock.

"cheeky, cheeky." You smirked taking your free hand to grab his ass. Finally satisfied you pulled her fingers from his mouth.

"more..." His voice rasped out. "More? I haven't even started." With that you pushed your fingers into his tight hole. You began scissoring them, watching as he twitched beneath you. His breathing became louder the more you curled. Then you hit his prostate and he cried out, gasping at the intense pleasure you gave him.

Your fingers pulled out, and you reached for the belt that you had placed beside him for such a moment. "Tch, y/n please you must-" you reared the belt back and slammed it forward, the belt bouncing off his ass with a thrup! Sound. He gasped delightedly, his cheek pressed up against the cold metal of his desk.

Again you reared down, jolting his body. "You." Slap. "Think." Slap. "That." Slap. "You." Slap. "Can." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Treat." Slap. "People." Slap. "Like." Slap. "Shit." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Because." Slap. "You." Slap. "Are." Slap. "A." Slap. "Squad." Slap. "Leader." Tears streamed from his eyes, ass red and tender.

"you can't." You grabbed his hands from his sides, "and now you're going to be tied up with your own belt, right after you were just spanked with your own belt." You slide the belt around till it was tight enough to only hurt a bit.

Then you you raised his hands directly over his head. This was used as something to grip onto while you fucked him.

Her other hand made sure you two were properly aligned, and with little more than a grunt you thrusted in. A breath released from his body, a shout escaped his lips as you bottomed out.

You waited several seconds, gently stroking his face and cooing to him, waiting. Finally he nodded, telling you everything you needed to know. You pulled back, almost completely out, save for the tip before you plowed into him.

Your hips thrusted- hard and faster. The only way Levi Ackerman deserved- rough. Each time you bottomed out he grunted and it became a steady rhythm of grunts.

"nnnuh...nuuhhnn..ahhh..." He was drooling, each hit of his prostate weakening his resolve a bit more and making him a bit more needy for more.

Your position made it almost impossible for him to move and he could really only met your thrusts. "Harder!" He gasped out, tears running down his face, drool dripping from his mouth.

Your hand reached around and tugged along his dick, high pitched whines now leaving the captains mouth. "Y/n! Y/n I'm so close please, please." You bent down and bit into his shoulder, causing another Yelp to leave the squad leader.

"cum, bitch." You whispered to his ear and with a cry Levi Ackerman came, his eyes practically crossing as he painted his chest and desk white.

He laid their several seconds, breathing harshly and listening to the sounds of your praises. He was a good boy, he was. He was your good boy now, all yours.

Gently you helped him up and into his shower, fully discarding his bottoms and your strap, to take back to your room to wash.

You cleaned, scrubbed, and were as gentle as possible, making sure to help him to his bed.

You pulled your shirt over your head. "I can stay till you leave for breakfast...if you want that is but-" he cut you off. "Tch...Stay as long as you want." He pulled himself up and onto his elbows. "Especially since you didn't cum."

You raised a brow. "Levi, I appreciate it, but I don't think you're read yet...I mean- we-" again he cut you off. "Y/n, my mouth is always ready."

You paused. He was right, you hadn't cum and not very often did the people you slept with care. He was offering his mouth to you- not that Levi surprised you much- he was very caring and it seemed natural he'd be that way in bed.

You smiled and tugged off your shirt. "I hope you're hungry." You crawled into the bed, barely having to do a damn thing as Levi simply hoisted you up- as if you weighed nothing- and sat you on his face.

His nose carded through your folds- parting them for his tongue. Your hips buckled against him, thighs closing around his face. His hands came up and wrapped around them, pressing them together.

"Fuck, Levi." You moaned as his tongue licked from your hole to your clit, where he sucked for several seconds. Again he pushed his nose up into you, allowing you to ride his face and practically suffocate him. "God, you're so good." You squealed, yanking at his raven locks. He had definitely done this before and definitely knew how good he was.

He hummed into you, pushing you down each time your hips buckled up. Finally it seemed he had enough with your erratic movements before he flipped you into your back and moved so that he was on his stomach, mouth never leaving your core.

Your legs wrapped around his head as he ate, each time dipping his head in deeper to your core. His tongue fucked your hole with urgency, meaning, desire and finally with one final plunge you came, wetting his face.

He pulled away, allowing you to sit up. Your legs were shaky, but you moved so that you were directly in front of him. You licked your juices from his face, meeting him in a chaste kiss.

"Maybe I should be more harsh on you cadets more often." He spoke hurriedly as she pushed him down. You tutted. "Did you really learn nothing, my sweet boy?" He shrugged allowing you to pin his hands down above him.

"What can I say? I am the leader of the brats."

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BONUS

Erwin frowned at his friend and colleague. The two had been eating breakfast together and everything had seemed rather ordinary until Erwin noticed a bruise on the side of Levi's neck.

"uh..Levi?" Levi glanced up. "Where did you get that bruise?" Levi frowned at Erwin. "What bruise?" Erwin rolled his eyes impatiently. "The one on your neck."

"Hello everyone! I hope everyone slept well!" Hanji appeared interrupting the conversation. She slid into a chair on the other side of Levi, smiling happily.

Erwin made a few more glances at Levi's neck, but felt it best to leave it, lest he be smitted by the all powerful Levi Ackerman.

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A/n: BARK BARK BARK okay I definitely got a bit...carried away. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading, and pls feel free to give critism!

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Part 2

Summary: Freya wakes up in Last Light. She shares a bit with Halsin about her past, and starts to open herself up to the idea of letting him help her. Very fluffy snippet.

————

“Fucking hells.”

Halsin’s eyes snapped open at Freya’s voice, still hoarse from all she’d endured the day before. He had discovered what was wrong with Thaniel while Freya slept and though he wanted so badly to put his plan into action, he knew that Freya would have his balls if he went without her.

She was, of course, already trying to sit up on her own. Halsin moved from his chair to perch on the edge of her bed and used one hand to gently push her back down.

“How do you feel?” He asked her.

“Oh, all powerful archdruid, I’m in such pain. Put me from my misery, I beg you,” she retorted with an eye roll. Her sense of humor had returned, at least. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chest as he lightly flicked her nose and she snapped her teeth at him. “Honestly, Halsin, I’m fine. I’ll die of boredom if you don’t let me up, and then everyone’s efforts will be wasted.”

Damn stubborn woman, he thought as he slid his arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up. Freya winced slightly as her sore muscles adjusted to the movement, and when she was sitting upright she started testing her injured shoulder.

She did not behave like a woman who had just been at death’s door the previous day, that much was certain.

Freya looked down at the leg that had been sliced open to find it clad in clean black cotton pants. She shot Halsin a glare, apparently thinking he got her naked while she was unconscious or something. Not that he didn’t want to get her naked.

“Not me,” he said quickly. “Shadowheart brought clothes for you last night, since your others were shredded.” She ran a hand through her hair, finding it unbraided and clean. “That was me, I’m afraid. I figured if you wanted red hair, you’d dye it on purpose, and the blood was starting to stain.”

Freya huffed a small laugh. “Perhaps it would be easier if I did dye it. Silver is so inconvenient.”

They sat there next to each other in silence for several moments.

“I know you’re not really one for sentimentality, but I need you to hear this. I thought you were going to die yesterday. You are, perhaps, the strongest person I’ve ever met, and without a doubt the fiercest warrior. No one here doubts your skills or your strength,” Halsin started.

“My brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Freya answered. It was the first time Halsin had heard her say a word about her family, and he didn’t even think she realized she said it.

“But,” he continued. “Even you cannot face everything alone. I am here to be your ear as you bear your burdens, and the arms that protect you when you can shoulder them no more. If you aren’t ready to share your mind with me, at least let me mend your body when it comes back to me bleeding and bruised.”

Freya let his words sink in for a long moment, her blue eyes lining with silver as she took a deep breath. “Az would’ve loved you,” she whispered. “He would’ve smacked me upside the head and called me a stubborn brat.” She swiped at her eyes and let out a sad laugh. “Where I’m from, every favor has a price. There’s only ever been one person I could really trust to watch my flank, and he’s been gone a long time. I couldn’t protect my brother, but I can protect all of you.” She stood, gingerly testing her weight on her bad leg, and faced Halsin. Without any of her armor on, and missing her sword and shield, she was just a woman with the weight of the world on her slender shoulders.

She was choosing to be vulnerable with him, to share some pieces of herself that she had kept locked away for Silvanus knew how long. He took both of her hands in his and let blue light flow from his palms to hers to soothe her lingering aches.

“My friend, you rescued a bear from a cage and certain death without knowing if it would kill you. You saved my grove, and showed Kagha the errors of her ways. You held the line and almost lost your life to help me find my oldest friend. If you believe that my aid comes with a debt, consider it paid a hundred times over.”

Freya brushed her thumb over Halsin’s knuckles and gave him a quick nod. For her to share with him that small bit about her past, he knew, took greater courage than anything else she’d faced since he joined her camp. That knowledge made his heart nearly burst.

“Let’s get Thaniel back to camp,” she said, breaking the tension. “He’ll be safest with us.” She let go of Halsin’s hands and looked around the room. “Where in the sweet hells is my armor?”

Halsin laughed. “I gave it to Dammon for repairs. Wait here, I’ll go see if he’s finished.” Freya backed up a step so he could stand, dwarfing the paladin as he did.

“You know, you’re quite large for an elf,” she blurted.

“I am? You don’t say!” Playful sarcasm laced his tone as he laughed once more. “Trust me, it’s been said. You’ve shown more restraint than most in avoiding the subject until now.” Indeed, with them standing so close to each other, he noticed how tall he was in comparison to her. The top of her head barely reached his chest. He still had no doubt she could obliterate him in a fight, if she wished.

She shoved at his shoulder. “Whatever, old man. Go make sure Dammon hasn’t ruined my armor.”

As Halsin left the room and closed the door behind him, Jaheira caught his eye and raised her wine glass in his direction. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she gave him a knowing look.

It seemed the woman did know everything that happened in her inn, after all.

[pascalpanic]

Mirdal’ika (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader takes care of the Razor Crest and the child while Mando is out hunting. When Mando doesn’t return when he’s supposed to, the book-smart reader has to learn some street smarts and help her Mandalorian.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Okay, I’m a nerd, a certified nerd as if that wasn’t clear. This is my love letter to the nerds out there, to the ones who had their first kiss a little late, who stayed in and read books rather than partying. I love you, you’re cool. Italics are for emphasis and internal dialogue, but in some places also to show that another language is being spoken. Hopefully that’s clear! Oh, also: mirdal’ika is a word of my own creation. No Mando’a word exists for “nerd” that I could find, so this is my interpretation of the language using my best etymological skills!

mirdala= intelligent, clever -’ika = suffix meaning small or little mirdal’ika = intelligent little one; Mando’a slang meaning nerd.

Growing up, you were the kid who had her nose buried in a book at all times. You rarely interacted with the outside world. While the other children on Tatooine made sandcastles or played games, drawing in the sand, you read encyclopedias and fact books, learning about the other planets in your systems and other cultures. Your fixation at age 12 had been on Mandalorian culture, fascinated by the warriors that were like faraway, mythical knights to your young self. As a child enraptured by fairy tales and stories of intergalactic heroes like Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, you’d somehow always been enchanted by the bad-boy type, the dark and mysterious man who reluctantly saves the day, more along the lines of Han Solo. Naturally, the fact that Mandalorians never showed their face was mysterious, and you’d admit that you dreamed of being swept away by the Mand’alor and having the privilege of being the sole person to see their face, of being a queen and finding true love. You later moved on to research other cultures, even teaching yourself various galactic languages should you ever get the chance to travel. That didn’t seem likely, growing up on a planet where the only claim to fame was Luke Skywalker’s brief residence a few towns over. Your knowledge of Mandalorian culture was part of what made you so special to Mando, your employer-friend-coworker-roommate-co-parent whose name you had yet to learn. You never asked questions of him. Never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked him what was under it, never asked anything too personal, understood that the helmet could only come off in front of members of his clan. You’d cut him off and finish a sentence when he’d explain something of his customs to you, stunning him with your knowledge. He liked it, and by association he liked you. You had bore much of your life story to him, and he gladly would’ve given you some of his. He had come to like you, to trust you even, but you never asked. For fear you wouldn’t want to hear it, he held back. You even spoke Mando’a, though he didn’t know that. It always brought a smirk to your face as he’d turn his back after calling you some sweet words in his native tongue, thinking you’d be oblivious. It shocked you at first; you didn’t expect such a stoic and silent man to be so openly flirtatious, but after a while it most certainly grew on you. You would tease him equally in another tongue, calling him handsome or dashing in Pak Pak or Bothese. It was fun, the way he’d try to guess what you were saying, usually assuming it meant something negative.

With your vast knowledge of languages, you’d both expected that you would be able to interpret the words of Mando’s adopted son, that his babbling would be easily deciphered into some species’ tongue. Eventually you realized that he wasn’t speaking a language yet, simply regurgitating syllables like any child would. He was a baby, after all. You set out to make it your mission to teach the child languages when Mando was away, and he had begun to identify the meaning of words, even if he couldn’t say them himself. He could identify body parts on himself, you by your name, and Mando by his; well, the name you called him, which you knew wasn’t his real name. Mando had taken you on as a crewmate for the Razor Crest a few months ago now, and you still knew next to nothing about the beskar-clad warrior. He was a forward man, so you assumed he would tell you things when he was ready. That’s about all you knew: he was a man, and he was a Mandalorian. He wanted to tell you everything, especially the fact that he had been enchanted by your intelligence and wit since the first time he met you, stopping on Tatooine for a bounty and encountering you when he asked a fellow villager who the most knowledgeable person around was. The tiny green thing he held was a menace, and you cared for him while the Mandalorian man went and hunted his bounty. The child was hesitant to leave you, getting attached after a quick few days of staying in your hut, and the man had decided you could be valuable. Just before he walked through the door, he turned and offered you a job. You were shy when you accepted, and had nursed a crush the whole time you two had traveled together. You couldn’t believe the situation, just like in those trashy novels you’d read when you were interested in his culture. Now that you lived with him and the tiny green thing, you stayed aboard his ship while he hunted and cared for the kid, cleaned, fixed up the piece of junk, and generally ran the almost-household. It was enjoyable; you liked the man, especially once you came to find his sense of humor similar to your own, and you absolutely adored the child in your care. Your little ragtag crew fell into a rhythm after the first month or so: Mando would leave on a hunt for a few days. While he was gone, you’d play with the baby, feed him and care for him. You washed the blood and dirt from the man’s clothing and the child’s bile from the clothing belonging to you and the baby, taught the child new words, and generally… well, raised him. The baby felt like your child when you two were alone, but when the Mandalorian came home, he was the only thing visible in that child’s round black eyes. It was all about him, sitting in his lap, babbling incoherent words to him, playing with him. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian is on a hunt. You and the child sit in the bed compartment; you lie on the mattress and the child rests in his mesh hammock above the entry. At the last port, you picked up as many books as possible to entertain both you and the child. He loved listening to your voice, and so you happily read aloud to him as you rest together. The Mandalorian should be home tonight, you figured, since he told you that this was a rather easy bounty and that it should take him no more than 3 days. It’s now a couple hours after the third day, but you’re sure it’s fine. The child’s eyes droop closed as you read to him, flawlessly translating the book from the Pak Pak it was written in. The Basic words pour from your mouth, and the little thing gives a gentle yawn before curling up with his favorite blanket and silver ball and passing out. Looking up, you laugh at the sight softly and transition to reading in your head. Not long after the kid falls asleep, you follow. It was unintentional, but reading soothes you, and the perfectly cozy bed that smells like Mando draws you in further and further until sleep washes over your body. You hug one pillow to your chest as you sleep, imagining it was the man’s body you cuddled up against. - Mando is 24 hours late. You’ve been pacing in the ship since you realized it’s officially a day later than he said he’d be back. Dammit, you’re going to find that man. You’re not unaccustomed to violence, having been in scuffles as a child and teen, fighting off Jawas or unsavory men in Tatooine cantinas. You need to track him down and find him. First, you go up to the cockpit and look at the comm watch he gave you. It has a two-way tracking device; one for him to find you, and one for you to find him. Mando has the technology to see where you are built into his vambrace. You, however, have nothing. After searching the cockpit, you find and crack open a tracking fob he used in the past. You open the back of the comm watch, finding the bit with the tracker and wire it to the fob. As you connect two wires, the fob suddenly blinks with light. Laughing at the fact that you made it work, you relax a little. Now you can track the Mandalorian man down. After slipping the fob into a pocket of your pants, you scoot back down the ladder and to the cargo hold’s back wall: Mando’s arsenal. You can do this, you tell yourself, and dare to open Mando’s personal armory built into the wall. You strap a holster to your thigh, adding a vibroblade there. A belt with two guns rests on your hips. An ammo belt drapes across your chest, settling between your breasts and pulling your black tank top tight, the back of the leather sash holding Mando’s backup pulse rifle. You take a look in the mirror of the refresher, and you have to admit that you look badass. Weapons and homemade tracker at the ready, you set out to find him. You leave the baby with a trustworthy woman at the hangar, one who has babysat him before for Mando, then enter the bustling city. - Following the blinking and beeping of the fob, you find your way to the opposite end of the city, to a building located near the outskirts. It’s run down and looks abandoned. It makes perfect sense that someone would hide here. As you approach, the beeping of the fob encourages you; the Mandalorian is definitely here. You disable the sound on the fob and slip it in your pocket, grabbing one of the blasters from your hip. As you approach, the building is silent. The roar of the city is quiet but present, and you slip through an open doorway quietly. You scan the rooms, blaster held in front of you and ready to shoot. You take inventory of the first floor and find nothing. The staircase looks terribly old, and you wince as you take your first step onto it and it makes a noise. Now or never, you tell yourself and quickly run up the steps, knowing the noise can’t be avoided, so you’d better make it quick. You reach the top of the steps, pulling out your other blaster, and find a male Twi’lek standing over  a pile of silver and black on the floor. Mando. He’s most definitely unconscious, maybe even- no, he can’t be dead, you can see his slow breathing and the way it makes his body rise and fall. “Fuck,” you say out loud, and the Twi’lek turns towards you. The man is large, much larger than you. He’s overweight and dressed in combat clothes, his face battered and bloody. Your heart sinks as you realize this man is the bounty Mando was going for. You need to start thinking on your feet, and quickly. The man starts to move toward you and you hold out both blasters. “Easy there, nerra,” you tell him in Twi’leki, calling him ‘brother’ to attempt to put him at ease. It doesn’t have the effect that you hoped. “Why are you here?” he asks back, also in Twi’leki, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t draw,” you threaten and inch closer. He was a bail jumper, Mando had informed you before he left, but not for a petty charge; he had escaped in order to avoid several charges of murder. He was a former bounty hunter, who Mando had encountered once. The idea strikes you. “I’m here for him,” you say and nod to the lump of beskar behind the man on the ground. “There’s a bounty on his head. I… heard whoever turns him in gets to keep the beskar too,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “You going for him too?” The Twi’lek man shakes his head. “No. He was coming for me. Thought he could beat me.” You seize this opportunity. “From what you look like, I don’t think anyone could. This one is worth a lot of credits. Enough to run away to a pleasure planet… twice over,” you say, inching closer. Mando makes a soft groan and it breaks your heart as he gains consciousness. He must notice you; he starts to moan out words, but you know he can’t speak or he’ll expose you both. “Silence, Mandalorian,” you say again in Basic, words holding acid. “Twice over… let’s bring him in together. Find some wonderful planet to share that bounty on…” you offer, raising an eyebrow and slowly creeping closer to the man. “What’s your name?” You ask. He tells you his and you tell him yours, then give him a seductive smile. The man’s face falls into a smirk. You put both blasters in your belt once more and his posture relaxes fully. “Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful.” “Wow. For a jaded bounty hunter, you’re more foolish than one could ever believe.” Before the man can process your words, you’ve slung the pulse rifle over your shoulder and pull it into position. You shoot a pulse and it finds its target in his chest. He groans in agony and falls backwards, directly on top of Mando. Wincing for the man beneath the hulking Twi’lek, you grab a blaster, shooting the man in each leg. “Mando, hey, it’s me,” you tell him as you roll the behemoth from on top of him. “I’m here,” you murmur. He starts mumbling back, but it’s in Mando’a. That makes sense, you suppose, that he’s reverting in such a moment of crisis. “How hurt are you?” you ask, beginning to speak Mando’a to him in hopes he’ll understand you better. Mando’s brain works through the fog, hearing your words and recognizing that it’s you. “Real bad,” he groans out, speaking his native tongue. You touch his elbow, unprotected by beskar, and he whines. “No, no,” he whimpers, sounding almost like a child. You sigh. This was going to be harder than you expected. “Fuck, how am I going to get you out of here?” The brain function that the Mandalorian has left is your saving grace. “Speeder bike. Hidden down there. We can get on.” “Yes, but how are we going to get you downstairs?” He doesn’t respond, simply groans in pain. If this was going to work without immense pain on his part, some kind of miracle was going to need to happen. “I’m going to drag you down the stairs as carefully as I can, okay? We’ll let gravity do the work. Do you have a good arm?” “The left one… so clever, so smart, pretty girl,” he breathes out, words rasping. You blush at the words but chuckle. He’s in so much pain there’s no way he can think straight now. “I’ll go get the bike, then we’ll get you down there.” This is the hard part, you think to yourself. First, you run down the steps and search for the speeder bike Mando mentioned. You find it and sigh in relief. It’s a piece of junk, but it should do. You position it at the bottom of the stairs and then run up them again. “Okay, this is going to hurt. Can you roll yourself?” “No, shoulder’s all fucked up,” he mumbles and you groan. “Well, I’ll have to drag you on the good one. Get ready.” Taking his good arm, you begin dragging him towards the steps. He groans and you wince. “I’m so sorry, you’re doing so well,” you tell him as you move him. “Here we go.” Once he’s at the top of the steps, you hold him under his armpits, blushing at how close you are. He’s so strong, even injured, and you smile softly to yourself. You lower the two of you down the stairs with careful movements and manage to hold him long enough to get him seated on the speeder bike. He leans forward onto the handles. “One moment,” you tell him. Running up the stairs once more, you shoot another pulse into the bounty. He gives a dazed nod, clearly not understanding anything through the pain he’s in. You can’t let Mando leave this man behind. You’re sure he’s unconscious, so you repeat the same movements as before but with next to no gentleness. You toss him on the back of the speeder bike, where the gunner would sit, and tie him down with ropes before covering him with a blanket. “Alright, back to the ship as quick as we possibly can,” you inform Mando and get the speeder to a door wide enough to fit it through. Once it works, you hop on between Mando and the handlebar and start it up, moving as quickly as you possibly can. Soon enough, you’re back at the hangar that holds the Razor Crest. You enter the back way, using the speeder bike entrance. You hop off quickly and park it by the Crest. “Stay right there, I’m going to get this asshole into the carbonite,” you tell Mando. His consciousness hasn’t been clear for at least a day. He didn’t even process the fact that you had grabbed the bounty. “What? You got him?” “One of us had to,” you tease, enjoying the fact that the two of you are finally conversing in his native tongue. You’ve always loved Mando’a, the way the words sound rolling off your tongue. You untie the man, still unconscious, and haul him up the ramp of the Crest. You’ve seen Mando work the carbonite freezer once or twice, and you hope you press the right buttons as you force the man onto the slab. “Come on, baby,” you murmur to the machine, hoping it’ll work. With one final button, there’s a hiss and cold air blows from it, freezing him. You sigh in relief. You return to the main hold and pop out a cot for him to lie on. Running back down the ramp, you find the dazed Mandalorian in the exact spot you left him in. “I’m going to carry you into the ship,” you tell him, grunting with effort as you lift his practically deadweight body off of the side and into a standing position. You drag him up and immediately shove him onto the cot. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you cringe as he moans in pain at the contact with the cot. “One more thing and we’ll get some bacta in you.” The owner of the hangar is waiting for you outside the ship, holding the kid, both confused by the commotion. You very quickly and hurriedly explain to her that everything is fine now, thank her and pay her a generous amount of credits, and rush back onto the ship with the baby. “Keep the speeder!” You shout behind you as you close the ramp. - A full day and a half later, the Mandalorian awakens from a deep slumber with a pounding headache. He sits with a jolt, which only makes the headache worse. He looks around to find that he’s in the Razor Crest, the familiar hum indicating that he’s in hyperspace. The events of the past few days begin to manifest in his memory and he groans, lying back down on the cot. You climb down from the cockpit as you hear him stirring and find him on his side. “Good morning,” you say softly as you sit on the edge of his cot, the kid in your arm. You set the child down and he toddles off elsewhere.  “You were out for a good day and a half,” you tell him and stroke his side softly. “How do you feel?” “Like shit,” he groans, rolling to his back again. He’s hyper aware of your touch, the way your fingers drag down his- oh shit, he’s shirtless, armorless- skin, avoiding the bruises. “You… thank you,” he says, gravelly voice soft. It sinks in that he’s wearing just a pair of shorts and his helmet. You must’ve undressed him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His breath catches in his throat. You nod and stroke his good arm. “Of course. That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?” you tease. He chuckles, but it’s clear that takes effort. “Really, thank you. And you got the bounty too! Shit, mesh’la, I-” he says as he starts to sit, but you push him back down with a hand to his chest, caressing the side of his beskar helmet. “Nayc, stay down,” you tell him, chuckling softly. “Rest. I’ll bring you some water and go back up to the cockpit so you can take off the helmet,” you say with a soft smile, standing and going to where you keep the food and water bottles. As you move, he mulls over the events that led him here. He got knocked down and beat by the man that was supposed to be his bounty. That never happened. You came to rescue him and- wait. You just told him no, nayc, in Mando’a. In fact, you were speaking Mando’a to him the whole time you rescued him, reassuring him and directing him in his native tongue, which he had no idea you spoke until just now. You return with a nutrient bar and water bottle, setting them next to his side on the cot. “I’ll head back up-” you start to say, but he stops you by grabbing his wrist. “You speak Mando’a,” he says simply, looking up at you with wonder behind his mask. “Yeah,” you chuckle and admit, face flushing with warmth. His is equally heating beneath the beskar. He sits up slightly but instead you come to his level, sitting on the edge of the cot and pushing him down with a firm palm to his chest. He chuckles softly. “So you’ve understood me every time I’ve called you beautiful,” he says, a tinge of shyness in his modulated voice. Nodding, you tuck a stray hair back from your face. “I… yes, I have,” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. “I hear you talk in Mando'a in your sleep too, sometimes.” Even his chest is flushing with warmth now. You look away, at a corner of the ship “You talk about your life. People from your past.” The silence hangs between the two of you, your hand still resting in the center of his chest. You slowly drag it to his good shoulder, and down his arm. He clasps your hand in his when it reaches his fingertips. “Have you heard the name Din?” He asks in his native tongue, and you shake your head softly, truthfully. It never came out. “That’s… my name. Din, Din Djarin,” he admits to you, hand squeezing yours softly. You gasp softly, not expecting that information from him. A smile settles on your face after a moment. “Well then. Hello, Din.” You lean down and press your forehead to where his lies beneath the metal. A keldabe kiss, you know, the most intimate gesture a Mandalorian can do. It truly melts his heart, the organ pumping frantically in his chest. “Hello to you too, gorgeous. Wait,” he stops and pushes your face from his, gently. He returns to speaking Basic with a chuckle. “How many languages do you speak?” You look upwards, mentally counting. “Uh. 8 and a half. I’m still not finished with Ubese,” you say and turn back to face him, a shy smile gracing your face. “Wow. You’re a mirdal’ika,” he tells you, the smile evident in his voice even though you can’t see it through the mask. Separately, the syllables make sense. You understand the direct translation, but it’s odd, and you cock your head to the side as you look down at the Mandalorian- no, Din. “Little clever one?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Yes, well, that’s the direct translation. It’s really more of a slang term.” “For?” “In Basic… I believe the equivalent would be… nerd.” “Din!” You squeal and laugh, smacking his good shoulder lightly with a backhand. “Excuse me, that’s rude,” you chuckle, the smile growing even wider on your face as you look down at him. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you give a soft sigh. “Well, you need to drink that water. I’ll head back up to the cockpit,” you tell him, really meaning to leave this time, the smile falling. Once again, as you stand and try to move, he grabs your arm. “I… I think I’m going to need help with that,” he admits, almost ashamed. “Please. Stay.” You nod, but then realize what it implicates. “No, Din,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t do that to you, you and that helmet, it’s… it’s your everything, I couldn’t possibly-” “Please, cyare,” he asks in his native tongue again, and your heart melts. “I want you to see me. I need you to see me.” Heart pounding, you take a beat before you respond with a nod. You sit down once more, hands slowly tracing up his sides, then his chest and up to the base of his helmet. “You’re sure. Positive,” you ask. “Of course I am.” With a nod, you allow him to bring his hand to the side to unlatch the lock. Once it releases, he lifts his head just above the pillow and you slide off his helmet, catching the back of his head with one hand and easing it back down to the pillow. You make sure the helmet rests on the floor before you finally look at him. He’s gorgeous, truly. His tanned skin, which you saw when cleaning his wounds, is covered with dark stubble and a mustache on the lower half of his face, broken by two plush lips. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you take in his softly hooked nose, his dark eyebrows, his dark and messy hair, but most importantly, his eyes. His eyes are a beautiful chocolate brown, set gently into his face and looking at you like you’re a shimmering supernova, no, something even more beautiful. For a moment, you get caught up staring at him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Din,” you mumble in Mando’a. He just gives a soft smile and murmurs his thanks. After you finish staring, you shake your head quickly. “Sorry, the water,” you chuckle nervously, turning to grab it from your other side. Din’s hand catches the side of your face. “The water is a secondary need,” he says softly in Mando’a, turning your face back to his. “I took this off for something else.” His eyes hold a question as he looks up at you. You bite your lip for a moment before breaking into a smile and nodding. The Mandalorian pulls your face down to his, and, ever so gently, your lips finally meet, real and warm and absolutely delicious. You sigh softly, putting a hand on the side of his face too. His lips are softer than you’d expected, while yours are just as beautiful as he dreamed about at night. You both continue for a moment, his hand drifting to your neck, completely lost in each other. A moment later, you pull back and giggle. “I have to admit something, Din,” you tell him and lovingly stroke the side of his face. “It better not be that you’re secretly engaged,” he asks teasingly, a soft smile on his face and raising an eyebrow at you. “No,” you laugh and run your hand through his curls, carding your fingers between the surprisingly soft locks. “That…” you gulp and look away before looking back at him. “Was my first kiss,” you admit and bite down on your bottom lip. He laughs softly but there’s love in his eyes. “A girl as beautiful as you never dated when you were younger? Never went out and flirted with her classmates?” You shake your head. “I was generally too busy at home, reading or teaching myself the language of the man who’d eventually be my first kiss.” You both laugh at that and you grin. His hand rests on the side of your face, gently sweeping his thumb across the skin beneath his fingers. “Of course you were. My little mirdal’ika,” he laughs, bringing your face to his to kiss you once more.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Princess and the Miller

A/N: In honor of @monsieurbruhl​ reaching 1,000 followers as well because I can’t stop thinking about her post, I decided to make a Tonda one-shot. It deviates a little from the original post, but I hope you all still like it. BTW I haven’t read the book or seen the movie, but after reading up on it, I am going to go with an alternate version of this world. Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Tonda x Fem!Reader. No use of Y/N.

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluffy Smut, Happy Ending.

You had always been told that when you turned 21, you’d marry a prince. It was a marriage arranged since your infancy, you hadn’t met your betrothed and yet you were in a carriage on your way to his kingdom to marry him. You tried your best to find the best in the situation, tried to get some semblance of an idea of who the man you’d soon call husband, but all you got were very generic answers. He’s speaks several languages, plays many instruments, charming, handsome. But no one told you whether he was kind, generous, or good. Your eyes fell on the greenery whirling past your carriage as you felt your nerves grow.

Silently, you prayed that the prince you’d soon be married to would be kind, that you could learn to love the man and try to have a happy life. Your prayers quickly stopped as suddenly, the carriage had rocked and jumped wildly and then before you knew it, the carriage tipped over and things went black. A pounding in your head was the first thing you clearly knew before your eyes managed to open and focus enough to see the destruction before you. The coachman that was riding with you was trapped beneath the carriage and you could hear the soft whimpering of pain. You stand, though your leg was in great pain, and despite your own weaken state, you tried to help by pushing against the carriage, but to no avail. You looked around and noticed smoke in the sky. Someone lived by, they will help.

Running towards the direction, you press on, despite your own body aching, your head swimming with light headedness, because you had to help. Tired, but you managed to reach a mill, and saw a figure whose back was turned from you. “Excuse me,” your voice low and hoarse. The figure doesn’t hear at first and continues with his work, so you move forward, your body leaning against a pile of wood, which you knock down on accident.

The figure whipped his head around and at first seemed ready to fight but seeing you, blood dripping from your head, your weaken state, made him soften. “Please help,” you manage before passing out.

The next thing you knew, you wake up in a bed, your head bandaged, your leg in a splint and the pain subsided a bit and everything started to slowly come back to you. You try to get up from bed only to be hushed and pushed back gently. “No, don’t get up.”

It’s then do you take a look at your rescuer. He was older than you, can’t be no more than ten years older, but his wavy brown hair which he tied back, to his warm brown eyes and friendly smile made him seem boyish. “The coachman,” you say suddenly, “My carriage had crashed, he needs help,” you say, trying once again to get up.

“Alright,” he says, once again gently, pushing you back down, “I’ll go and see. In which direction did you come from?” You tell him to the best of your knowledge, but your head hurts so much, and you feel as if you want to cry. He offers you a small wooden bowl and brings it to your lips. “Drink. It’ll help with the pain.”

You do as your told, what else did you have to lose? Once he makes sure you drank all of it, he settles you back down and goes to find the carriage. Laying there, you wait and the pain in your head fades, allowing you the chance to wonder what will happen now; will your betrothed start to get worried if you are not there by tomorrow and have a search party sent for you? Will your father when he doesn’t receive word from you? Quite a bit of time goes by before you realize that the man returns, and his face is grave.

“I am sorry miss, but the coachman is dead. He died before I found the carriage.” His brown eyes grow tender with remorse and silently offers sympathy.

You cry, not only because the coachman was a good man you knew growing up, but because you felt completely and utterly alone. How you wished you were home now, wished you never left to be engaged, wished you were with your family now. The man does not say anything to you for a long time, leaves the cottage with a shovel in hand, and you knew what he was going to do. His absence allows you time to grieve, time to accept the situation, and when he returns, he still gives you space, waiting for you to speak first. He tells you he had buried the coachman, but you don’t feel like you could respond without crying, so you remain silent. When you do speak first, it is late in the night before he decides to retire to sleep. 

“What is your name?”

“Tonda.”

“Thank you, Tonda.”

Crying yourself to sleep, you wake and it takes you some time to realize where you are but are quickly comforted by the sight of those same soft brown eyes, sitting by the fire, stirring the pot. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” He gets up to bring you some porridge, gesturing for you to eat. “Where am I?”

“In my mill, just on the outskirts of Schwarzkollm, a small village, simple, but good. Where were you heading off to, maybe I know a way to get there.” You thought to not tell him the whole truth, withhold your being a princess, but looking into his eyes, you feel as if you can utterly trust him with anything. So, you explain that you were on your way to be married, that your betrothed was expecting you any day and must be worried. He took your being a princess well and instead of acting like everyone else who fell to their knees and dare not look at you, he continued to look at you, like you were an actual human being, not a symbol as your father once described you. “I know the kingdom, it’s a half a day’s ride from here. I’ll take you there as soon as I am sure you are feeling better.”

“Oh, thank you, Tonda! Thank you!” You clasp his hands into yours, a gesture of gratefulness, but somehow the touch made your cheeks grow warm. Perhaps it was because you realized that this was the first time you had been alone with a man that was not your father, perhaps it was because of how close both of your bodies were, or perhaps it was the look in Tonda’s eyes that made your stomach flutter like a million butterflies.

Word quickly spread that Tonda had a visitor in his mill, a young and pretty woman at it too, and people came to know the story, though you asked Tonda to not revel your true identity. Tonda was polite and kind enough to try to hold many of them back, certain it would overwhelm you, especially from the trauma you suffered the day before. But a few older women get by, offering food, clothing, and remedies to help you feel better, and you thank them graciously, knowing they mean well. You become grateful to be alone once again with Tonda, so you could have some peace.

He is gentle when he checks your bandages, cleans the wounds, and reapplies fresh wrappings. “You have only a small cut on your forehead, that’ll heal soon, but your ankle looks very bad,” he observes and you have to agree with him, what with it’s dark purple bruises and deep cuts that even grazing it caused great pains. “Stay off it for as long as you can; the longer you stay still, the quicker it’ll heal.”

You stay in bed, applying ointments and herbs that Tonda and the older women bring to you, while Tonda does his chores as well as trying to care for you. Feeling guilty, you offer to do little things to help, such as peel potatoes and mend clothes, little things you didn’t think mattered, but did mean so much to Tonda.

You wondered how you’d pay him back, especially since he was good enough to grab your trunk from the wreck and brought it to the mill. It wasn’t the clothes or the trinkets you cared about, but your books. Your father took great care to have you educated, to read and write, know your math and history. One day, Tonda noticed you reading and asked about it. “Oh it’s one of my favorites, but then again, I am partial to love stories. I’m almost done with it, you can read it after if you like.”

His cheeks grew red. “Oh, that’s kind of you, but-”

“But what?”

He looks down then admits, “I can’t read.”

You look at him surprised, such a capable and bright man stood before you, and he didn’t know how to read! “Well, how about this? As a way to repay you, I can teach you to read and write in the evenings, and whatever else you’d like to learn. What do you say?”

At first, Tonda tried to refuse, saying that there was no need to repay him, but after arguing that it would be good for him when he does business in the village, he at last accepts.  And so went your life for the next month. During the day, Tonda worked on the mill while you tried your best to help in bed, then in the evenings, you taught Tonda how to read and write. He was a quick learner and so proud of himself that you couldn’t help but to be proud as well.

In the time between, you both came to understand each other. Tonda proved to be a kind, gentle soul who loved animals and children, with a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. His father taught him to fight, which you were grateful to hear that he had little cause to use his skills, his mother taught him how to cook, which is why you were always asking for second helpings of his food. He told you how he was orphaned when he was quite young, and had lived on his own since, how while there were times he didn’t mind the peaceful quiet, he struggled with the solitude.

You told him how you understood what he meant, often feeling all alone in the big castle, how your being a middle child and not a boy, your worth was measured in how good of a wife you could one day be. You tell him of your apprehensions of your upcoming marriage, how small and insignificant you feel in this world, especially since there had not been any word on anyone trying to find you.

“No one is insignificant. We all have a reason, a purpose. Even a blade of grass has a purpose, for that blade of grass may very well be shelter to an ant, the nourishment an animal needs to live. You have your purpose, you may not yet know it now, but you will. You’ll mean something great to someone, and they’ll find they can’t live without you.”

Your heart thumps harshly against your chest, the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his voice all touched you so deeply, that you almost forgot to breathe. He turns away from you, looking as if he spoke something he shouldn’t.

The next day, you try to walk. The bruises have gone and the cuts have turned to faint scars, but it is still a little sore. Tonda stands by your side as you attempt to walk and with each attempt, you get further and further. While the sight of you getting better should have been a moment to celebrate, neither of you say the words, but both remember his promise. “I don’t think I am quite healed yet,” you speak before he does, “I think we ought to wait until I am able to walk completely, perhaps another week, just to be sure.” You are grateful when Tonda happily agrees and lets you remain with him.

A week turns to two, and those two turns to four. You learn from him how to work the mill, helping him more and more, going into the village with him, meeting the people properly. You don’t hear the whispers of the villagers, certain that you and Tonda were courting, but it’s perhaps better that you didn’t it would only make things complicated. And still, two months and no word, no sign of either kingdoms looking for you.

Eventually, you dare ask Tonda to take you to your betrothed kingdom. You just have to know what happened, why no one came for you, to let them know you were safe. A flash of pain shoot across his eyes, but being the honorable man he was, he hitched his horse and the two of you rode on. When you did reach the kingdom, you were surprised to see celebrating going on, ribbons everywhere, flower petals falling from the sky, cheers from the crowd.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” Tonda asked a passing villager.

“The prince is married!” said the villager, running off towards the castle.

You and Tonda stare at each other bewildered. Trumpets sound and you see, standing on the balcony is the prince you were to marry, and beside him, your sister, as his bride. The sight is like a stab in the heart, not because you had wanted to marry the prince, but because you knew the truth now. No one came for you because in their eyes, you were dispensable, if not you, another will easily take your place. 

The realization made you break down, sobbing as Tonda took you away, carried you even as you were so overcome with despair. He helps you back on the horse and together, he brings you back to his mill. The entire ride, you are sobbing into his back, holding on to him for dear life, your heart utterly broken. It’s dusk when you return to the mill, and ever the gentleman, Tonda helps you down from the horse and escorts you back in, making a fire when he sees you shiver. “I am so sorry, my princess,” he says at last softly, “They do not deserve you if they think you can be easily replaced like that.”

“I’m just,” you say low and brokenly, as you sit in the closest chair, “Not the blade of grass they needed it seems.”

He quickly kneels before you, taking your hands into his and makes you look into his eyes. “You are more than a blade of grass; you are the sky, the earth and the oceans. You are everything that makes life worth living for, and that prince and your father are fools to not realize that. You mean something great to me, always.”

You stare deep into his soft brown eyes and it hits you. Tonda, the man who rescued you, who cared for you, listened and taught you, you were in love with him. Yes, it was clear now, and the revelation helped to ease the heartbreak. Taking his face into your hands, you reached forward and kissed him. It was gentle at first, beautiful, something you had always read about in the romance stories and it made you both gasp when you parted.

You don’t know who prompted it, you feel as if it was you, but you can't be certain, but what you do know is that Tonda carried you to the bed, clothes stripped from the both of you and for the first time for either for you, you laid down together and carefully learned together these first throes of passion and love. His coarse hands were gentle on your skin, his lips everywhere as if he couldn’t dare part with you, his movements gentle and slow, not wanting to rush this breathtaking moment. He sighs and moans at the feeling of your soft hands running down the planes of his back, combing through his long wavy hair, the soft whimpering of your voice in his ear. 

“I love you,” his speaks desperately, lovingly, hopelessly, “I love you, love you, always.”

Hours later and you stare into the small fire as it slowly diminishes and Tonda curled behind you, sleeping. Today was a whirlwind of emotions, and yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to feel guilty for how it ended. It stung to think your own father didn’t care, that to the world you were dead. In his sleep, Tonda pulled you closer and nuzzled himself closer to you, making you smile.

Well, you think, perhaps it’s better that the world thinks me dead, to earn this second chance to truly live. And live you did with your sweet miller, happily ever after, in fact.

Tagging those who I think would be interested: @monsieurbruhl​, @creme-bruhlee​, @bruehl​, @neonheart1244​, @justfangirlthingies​, @git-it-got-it-good​, @daniel-bruhhl​, @cazzyimagines​ 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[parvulous-writings]

Nightmare // Liu Kang x reader

Request:     I was wondering if I could request a scenario of either Liu Kang or his s/o having a nightmare, maybe of the other dying. Along with the prompt “It’s okay… I couldn’t sleep anyway…”

Requested by: ​anon

Summary: Reader has a series of nightmares, and goes to Liu Kang for comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of death, fairly graphic descriptions of various forms of death. 

Words: 1.7K 

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

not my gif

Nights in Raiden’s Temple had always been peaceful, even in the most troubling of times. The blanket of darkness only truly fell in the early hours of the morning, when the torches finally fizzled out in their mounted sconces, with no one left awake to tend to them. The only light left to illuminate the hallways of the ancient structure was that of the moon and her many stars.  For you, tonight though, it was not a very peaceful night. It had started off as one, the same as any other. You had adhered to your schedule as you religiously did each evening- you washed your face, ridding your skin of the grime of the day, you folded your clothes to take them down to the washroom in the early morning, like you did every day with your fellow champions. You had nestled yourself into the sheets of your bed, curling up to rest, falling asleep quite quickly. You were not wrapped in tranquility forever, though. In the very early hours of the morning- perhaps two or three hours past midnight- you awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in your bed, a slick sheen of sweat adorning your skin. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you were short of breath, as if you had been training or sparring with other champions, rather than sleeping. You wiped your hands over your face in an attempt to calm yourself, as disturbing images flashed through your mind. They were burnt beneath your eyelids- scenes of Liu, scorched by his own flame, his flesh bubbling and blistering as he cried out in pain. His skin turned to char, and he collapsed, slumping over on his knees as his body finally caved in to the injuries he had sustained.

Then another- Liu engulfed by an emerald green light. It snaked around his limbs, bathing him in the eery glow of the streams of light as several strands shot down his throat, choking him, drawing the life from his lungs. You were forced to watch as he began to decay, the muscles beneath his skin wasting away, leaving him as nothing more than skin and bones- if you could even class it as that, as even from a distance his skin now seemed as thin, and as delicate as rice paper. He was not given a peaceful last breath in this vision, it was forcefully ripped from his lungs.  A third- a disagreement between himself and his cousin and closest friend Kung Lao. Ordinarily, the pair would either agree to disagree, or they would work out his differences, but it was not the case this time. The two were in the fight pit, lashing out furiously at one another. Liu was hailing down a rain of fire upon his closest of companions, whilst Kung Lao expertly slung his chakram hat back at the monk. Though Lao was suffering many, many burns, it was Liu who was taking the majority of the hits. There were gashes on his face, his gi was slashed open in several places, exposing his torso which was littered with bruises. After a particularly harsh throw from Lao, Liu stumbled, losing his footing for a moment. Kung Lao took this as an opportunity to take advantage of Liu’s weaknesses. He hurled his hat towards his cousin, the blade of the brim running through Liu’s shoulder, creating a fountain of blood. The fire wielding monk fell to one knee, choking on the fluid, and Kung Lao started to approach him, calling his hat back to his hand. The descendant of the Grand Champion of the Order of Light approached the Chosen One slowly, an almost smug smirk on his lips. He gave a quiet chuckle, but had chosen not to gloat, kicking Liu Kang on to his back, watching him squirm and struggle. Without wasting anymore time, Lao threw his hat into the sand above Liu’s head, using his arcana to make it spin like the blade of a buzzsaw. Grabbing his cousin’s arms, and dragging him along the ground, until he had been split in half, his blood and his organs spreading out and drenching the sand. 

You wanted, so badly, to look away from this monstrous sight, but you couldn’t. Your tried to close your eyes in this dreamworld, but it was of no use. It was this final segment of the dream that had caused you to wake up in your cold sweat. Your eyes darted around the dark confines of your room, trying to find something that could provide you with some sort of comfort. But beside your blanket, which felt more vaguely restrictive than anything, you had nothing.  Though perhaps, that wasn’t strictly true. There was something, or rather someone, that could comfort you. You shakily got to your feet, getting dressed in something that covered you a little bit more than the typical night wear, padding out into the dark hallway, heading down as quickly as you could muster, given the lack of light. Eventually you wound up at the door you desired, or at least you hoped so. You raised your hand to knock timidly on the door, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the others nearby, but loud enough to catch the attention of the dweller within those quarters. You wrapped your arms around yourself, waiting patiently. You didn’t have to wait long, as the wooden door creaked open slightly. Before you stood Liu Kang, his eyes just barely open from sleep, his hair tousled slightly from tossing and turning, as he told you he often did at night. He rubbed one eye with his hand, his prayer beads slowly sliding down his arm with the movement. He mumbled something inaudible, as he registered you standing just outside his doorway. He noticed your slightly disturbed expression, and became much more alert. “Are you alright?” Were his first words to you, and you gave him an almost sheepish look. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to spill out thanks to the elder gods for him being alive, but you restrained yourself. “I did not mean to wake you... I was more wondering if you were awake.” Your voice is soft, just above a whisper; the thought of him dying in your dreams underlying your every words, although he was unaware of it. You could tell he had only recently gotten to sleep, something he didn’t often get much of. The monk shook his head at these words.  “It’s quite alright… I couldn’t sleep anyway…” He offered you a brief smile. “You seem worried. What seems to be the matter?” He asked you, moving aside and beckoning for you to enter his room. You step inside, rubbing the back of your neck as he closes the door carefully behind you.  “I... Had a nightmare.”  “Oh?” Liu replies, moving to sit on his bed. “May I ask about the nightmare? It is alright if you do not wish to divulge what you dreamt.” He told you, “Though perhaps it will relieve some stress from your shoulders.” He encouraged, and you sighed gently. How were you to tell him this? Sure, it may not have been a reality, but it had felt so real. 

“I saw you dying.” You say it bluntly- why sugarcoat something that blatantly troubled you so? Liu is stunned to silence, just staring at you, unsure of what to say to comfort you. You decide to continue, hoping this will help him comfort you more effectively. “I saw it happen several times... You were burned, then you decayed, and...” Your eyes glaze over for a moment, and you swallow a lump that had formed in your throat. “And Kung Lao killed you.” This shocked Liu even more; what had provoked such vivid and horrific dream sequences? He didn’t know, and he thought that perhaps it would be better for him if he didn’t know, it may not have been his place. You didn’t come to him to have your problems solved, you came to be comforted. He remained quiet for a moment more, as his arm slipped around you, pulling you closer to his chest.  “It’s okay.” He soothes, moving you both so that you laid on his bed, facing up at the ceiling, “It was nothing more than a dream. It’s gone, now.” He told you. You glanced to him for a moment as you settled onto his chest a little more.  “But... It felt so real. Everything about it. The sounds... The sights... All of it. Even the way you fight- all of your inflections, and even Lao’s smirk. It was all there and-” Liu shushed you as you started to babble.  “It was a dream. I will not deny it has clearly had an impact on you, but I will remind you of the fact.” His voice was soft as he spoke, “And I will remind you that we are all safe here- from death at least. I will not get injured from flames, I can control them well enough to defend myself from them. Decay will certainly happen eventually, of course, but it is many years away I am sure.” He paused for a moment, letting you just process his words. “And as for my cousin... You know he will not let loose all of his skill on me.” He’s right, the relationship between Kung Lao and Liu Kang was a tight knit one, rife with humor and playful jabs, but at the same time a sincerity that they will both be there for one another. You nod slowly. He starts to gently trail his warm hand up your upper arm, soothing you a little more. 

Liu falls silent, and the pair of you just lay there on his bed for a while, his hand still carefully gliding over your skin. You start to feel drowsy, and your eyes weigh themselves shut as your body succumbs to the exhaustion your adrenaline had staved off. Liu didn’t move you, he just smiled down at your sleeping form, shuffling slightly to settle down himself. He finally finds sleep with you in his arms, finding the same sort of comfort in you that you had found in him. 

[ohpretty-baby]

my babysitter’s a quarterback • jjk

⇥ pairing: qb!jungkook x cheerleader!reader

⇥ side pairing: namseok

⇥ synopsis: after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age.

⇥ genre: fluff, crackfic, angst, e2l, jungkook is stupid, jimin’s an asshole, hoseok’s a sweetie, namjoon is also a sweetie, reader is Stressed, pining, mutual pining

⇥ warnings: cursing, crude humor, mentions of cheating, divorce

⇥ word count: 30.0k

based off a request for @fan-ati--c​ (i hope you like it dear!)

a/n: hi everyone!!! this is my first ever lengthy fic, so pls have mercy on me. i had a lotta fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!!!! much much much much MUCH love <333 (feel free to give feedback and your opinions!)

“Y/N, what has gotten into you?” Your mom gently places the tip of her fork on her plate, folding her hands together. Her words are stern, but she doesn’t raise her voice in order to save face. The air at the dinner table is dense and heavy on you, and the fact that your father and your little sister, Clementine, seem to have their eyes glued on you doesn’t help either. Clementine sniffles and the sound makes your blood boil.

You sigh, looking up from your phone to shoot a glare to your mother. You also send a glance of distaste towards your sister, which allows you to get a quick sight of her puffy eyes and runny nose. The prongs of your fork are poking your lips while you lazily chew the spaghetti stuffed in your mouth. Shrugging, you place your phone and the fork down, folding your hands in order to mirror your mom seated in front of you.

You stay silent, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, because you know she has more to say.

“Darling, you’re being extremely immature,” Your mom always had to give it to you straight, “You know that Clementine didn’t mean to upset you.”

As always, your mother is articulate and sharp when she speaks. Not once does she stutter, and after being her daughter for 17 years, you’re not entirely sure if she’s ever stumbled on her words before in her entire life. It’s indicative of her personality: intelligent, quick-witted, skilled, yet unbelievably blunt. From the way her patients praise her for constantly being compassionate and kind, you often wonder if your mom really is a psychiatrist or if she’s hired a clone to work in her stead.

It’s not that you hated your mom. You loved her dearly, as you did with the rest of your family. The reason why you seemed to always butt heads with her, though, is simply because you have a little too much in common with her (personality-wise). Your dad’s always said that you were a carbon copy of your mother, after all.

“All I’m asking is that Clem asks me if she can use my makeup,” You cough, a few bits of the noodles going down the wrong pipe, “You, of all people, mom, know how expensive lipstick can be. I need that for football games.”

It’s not a clear statistic, but it is a pretty solid fact. You always use facts in order to back up your arguments, just so that your parents can’t say anything in response. Sometimes it works. You’re still waiting for the day when you have something impactful to use.

“Well, you know that when she sees you getting all pretty,” She taps her fingers on the wooden table, “She wants to do the same, and as the-“

“As the older sister, I have to share,” You roll your eyes, and you shift your focus on Clementine, “Sorry, ok? I won’t get so mad next time.”

“Clementine, what do you say?”

“It’s ok,” She sniffles, wiping her eyes.

“No, dear. What do you say?”

“I forgive you, Y/N.”

You bite back the sarcastic comments you’re dying to say, opting to stuff your mouth with spaghetti instead. The rest of your family starts eating as well, and you keep your head low to avoid making eye contact with your sister. You love her with almost every bone in your body, but right now, you can’t tell if you want to throw your food at her or slap her with your ceramic plate.

Today, she took it upon herself to go through your makeup bag and steal one of your (again, highly expensive) lipsticks so she could slice it with a butterknife purely out of boredom. This all happened while you were taking a bath, and when you got into your room, you saw her sitting at your desk, lipstick chunks spread all over one of your old math notebooks. So of course, you yelled at her.

Then she cried. Then your mom made you apologize because you were upset that she wrongfully went through your stuff without permission. But that’s really how things have always been, ever since you were 5 years old and Clementine was just born. You’ve grown up constantly taking the blame for Clementine’s wrongdoings. It’s just how things work in your household, because your parents genuinely believe that she could do no wrong.

Apparently, being 12 gave you lots of perks.

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, listen to me when I speak to you.”

“Sorry, what’d you say?” You don’t care about matching your mom’s formality anymore, your cheek puffed up with more food.

“I was asking you how your day was.”

“Oh, just wonderful. Fantastic. Dandy,” You snap back, not really aware of what you’re saying as your words fly out of your mouth.

“What’s with your attitude, young lady?” She scoffs, then pauses a bit before speaking again, “Listen, I know that it’s tough, having to see Jimin-“

You slam your hands on the table, standing up. Your chair screeches awkwardly against the wood flooring of the dining room. Swallowing down the rest of your food, you try to soothe the hard lump forming in your throat.

“Do not try to analyze me. I’m not one of your patients. There’s nothing you need to fix about me, got it?” You raise your voice, staring her dead in the eye, “I just had a shit week and I very much do not need you to try and pinpoint whatever’s going on in my head.”

Your mother gasps, and only now does your dad decide to speak.

“Young lady, go to your room right now,” His words fall flat, and you scoff at him.

Your parents were complete opposites. If your mother was over analytical, your father could never read the room. Not because he was dumb, per say, but because he was always in his own little world. He always responded a little too late, felt things a second after they should be felt. That’s just how your dad thinks. He doesn’t mean to be mentally absent when all of you were at home, but he’s always been preoccupied with his work. That’s a big thing you’ve admired about your dad, how easily he can focus on one thing and ignore the rest. It’s one of the main reasons why he was so successful as an architect. Growing up, you would stay up past your bedtime just so you could be with him in his office. You’d watch how he could just sit down and create a multitude of building designs without getting distracted.

By the way he looks at you with a flash of guilt in his eyes, you can tell that he’s the only one that gets your reasoning. You can also tell that he knows how wrong it is for your mom to bring up your ex-boyfriend during dinner.

But because he wants to uphold his “authoritative” figure, he needs to “put his foot down”.

“I was planning on it anyway, thanks,” You grumble, storming off.

Once you reach your room, you slam the door—purely for dramatic effect. You throw yourself on the bed, getting out your phone and doing the first thing that pops into your head. You call Hoseok and he answers right away. A smile flashes on your face as you feel some relief from your anger.

“Hello?”

Jung Hoseok has been your best friend ever since you first stepped into your hellhole of a high school building. He was your saving grace. The only thing that kept you sane.

When you joined the Monarchs, the cheerleading squad of your school, Hoseok was the only person who talked to you during practice, even if he was a year older than you. An infamous characteristic of his is his big smile. His lips always resembled a widened heart, and he showed off his pearly whites wherever he went, exuding happiness that was extremely contagious. And if his smile was big, his heart was even bigger.

You know this because Hoseok immediately asks you “Is everything okay?” when he hears your shaky breath over the line.

You explain to him what had happened seconds prior to this phone call. Then your conversation spirals into you ranting about how your parents have been telling you that you’ve been a terrible sibling. It’s something insulting to hear, knowing that they’ve always made you take the blame for everything your sister does. It hurts even more that they can’t acknowledge the fact that getting through a breakup is hard for a 17 year old girl. They couldn’t even cut you some slack.

A pang of guilt hits you when you relay everything you’ve said to your sister over to Hoseok. Maybe you were somewhat in the wrong here. But could you blame yourself? You were going through a hard time, and it’s not unusual for someone who’s stressed to act out. Not to mention when the stressor is heartbreak.

During the beginning of September, you found Park Jimin, your past boyfriend of one year, and some other Sophomore on the cheer team making out in his car afterschool. It was now the end of October, but the memory haunts you in your every waking moment. The image of another girl pressed up on him, her skirt hiked up high enough so that you could see her spandex, flashes in your mind. In your head, you see Jimin running her hands all over the girl’s skin, purple splotches blooming on her neck and on his.

You shut your eyes, rubbing them violently as you try to ignore the painful truth: If you hadn’t decided to surprise him with some brownies you made for him that day, they would’ve done a lot more than just making out.

The notion makes tears prick your eyes, the familiar sting returning. You had been crying almost every night. Everytime you close your eyes, the same image of him and that girl appears and you can’t get rid of it at all.

You’re about to break down again, and Hoseok talks you through it. He allows you to vent, to let everything out, and he promises that the two of you will hang out after tomorrow’s practice. It gives you relief, something to look forward to at the end of the next school day. Tomorrow was Friday after all, and like you said before to your mom, your week was shit.

There had to be at least one good thing you could have this week.

That statement is short lived, however, because instead of sitting with Hoseok at your favorite diner with a strawberry milkshake in front of you, you’re sitting at your dinner table yet again, poking at pizza with a plastic fork. You stare at the grease stains on your paper plate in disgust, as the dining room is so silent you can practically hear the small ticks of the red second hand of the clock on the wall. 

What a great way to start the weekend. Friendless, boyfriend-less, and miserable. You look up from the greasy mess before you to shoot a glare to the person in front of you.

“Why the hell are you here?” are your first words to the boy.

“Your parents called me?” He responds, mimicking your questioning tone. You scoff at him.

Jeon Jungkook. The cocky, annoying as fuck quarterback on the football team who coincidentally sits behind you in Pre-Calc everyday is now sitting across from you at your dinner table. The boy who breaks off pieces of eraser chunks and throws them at your head just to annoy you while the teacher is giving a lesson. The kid who kicks your chair at least five times every single day just because he has fun getting a rise out of you.

You don’t know how exactly your hatred for him began, but it definitely started when you first became a cheerleader.

Popularity was never something that came easily to you. Many people don’t remember, but in Freshman year, the only time your class knew of you was when your name was called for attendance. You didn’t play any sports, nor did you participate in theatre or had any musical talents whatsoever. You were simply just, there.

This all changed when your mom suggested cheerleading. You did have a few years of solid gymnastic experience and you really had nothing better to do, so you decided to take the opportunity to sign up for tryouts.

It was hard, and you slipped up a lot of times, but the coaches saw potential in you. They told you that you’ve really got drive, and they praised you for continuing to get up and perfectly following directions when they asked you to execute an especially hard move. Eventually, you were accepted and once you had more time to practice, you had gotten the hang of cheerleading quite quickly. You ended up falling in love with the sport, working hard both on and off the field. You always got constant praise for your willingness to learn new things.

And with your new success on the team, you gained a reputation for yourself.

When, exactly, did Jungkook join the picture?

You’re not sure. He kind of forced himself in.

One day, you weren’t at your usual best. The sun was beating down on you harshly, which didn’t make things any better. The football team had been practicing with you guys, and it was obvious that many of the boys were ogling at the cheerleaders. They would nudge each, looking suggestively at the girls while whispering crude comments about them.

Jungkook, being the youngest and most energetic one on the team, had other ideas in mind. You see, he lived quite loudly and he was… Eccentric, to say the least.

His eyes were focused on the cheerleaders, pinpointing at anything that would be of use to him. He peered around intently, looking for any mess ups or mistakes that they had made. He would have made fun of anyone, really. Jungkook didn’t know much about the girls on the squad, so he really had no problem using their flaws to his benefits. He wanted to make his own team laugh, and that in itself was justification enough for Jungkook.

It was just unfortunate that you were his target.

Once he saw you topple over on the ground, he was ready.

“Hey, thunder thighs! Be careful out there!”

After that, you heard nothing but boisterous laughter from the football players. It was an immature insult, one ridiculous enough to enrage you. You wished you could’ve ran over to the other side of the field and just punched him the gut, right then and there. But his own coach and grabbed him by the ear, dragging him towards you so he could apologize.

It was a lame apology, and you could tell that he was trying everything in his absolute power to bite back the laugh he was holding in. You would've said something about it, but since Jungkook was more built than you and there were authorities present, you reluctantly accepted the apology, choosing to go on with your practice instead of letting it get to you.

And after that day, Jungkook has made it his goal to torment you whenever he sees you. Since he sits behind you in Pre-Calc now, that’s become his job every day.

Jungkook was taller than Jimin. He was a pretty attractive football player, too. You would give him at least that. But he was meaner than Jimin. A bigger asshole than Jimin. More annoying than Jimin could ever be.

Literally any good quality that you thought you could find in a guy, Jeon Jungkook did not possess it. Any kindness, sympathy, or even general decency in his heart was nowhere to be found.

He had messy brown hair, a smug grin on his face that you’d love to punch, and a lean body that you wish had gone cripple. Confidence wasn’t something that he had a lack of. In fact, Jungkook’s cup overfloweth with so much confidence to the point where describing him as merely confident would be a misdeed.

Narcissistic was the word. He was extremely narcissistic and obsessed with himself, which was indicative of the daily gym snaps he’d post on his Snapchat story. He was everything that disgusted you about guys combined and turned human.

Jungkook’s very presence could set you off, and you know that he lives off of that.

This is no different from your Friday night, as he’s gnawing on pizza right in your own damn house. He’s scrolling through his phone and you’re staring at him in disgust, while Clementine has already eaten and is now sitting on the couch, curled up with some sci-fi book she got from the store last week. Taking in his appearance, you inwardly cringe when you notice him lick the oil that has found itself on his fingers.

“There’s a napkin right next to you.”

“That would be a waste of paper,” Jungkook responds, licking away the last remnant of oil and marinara sauce on his thumb, “Gotta be eco-friendly, y’know?”

He wiggles his fingers at you, his infamous shit-eating grin appearing yet again. You hate the way his mouth tugs up to the right a little bit, how his eyes gleam mischievously since he’s so full of himself. If Clementine wasn’t in the house right now, you’re certain that Jungkook would’ve been on the floor, knocked out. You would’ve hit him with a frying pan, like in that one Disney movie Clementine loved so much. Or you would’ve hit him with your Pre-Calc textbook. That shit was heavy. You could knock him out cold with that. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

You roll your eyes at him, saying nothing and eating the rest of your pizza. You make a mental note to ask your parents why the fuck they thought it was a good idea to call over Jungkook on a Friday night.

But you know the answer to that already. They seem to believe that you haven’t been “responsible” enough for Clementine, which is weird, knowing that you’ve practically raised her all her life. Your parents have always been too busy to spend enough quality time with her, save for when they defend her at dinnertime.

So instead of having a civil conversation with you—or even asking if you were doing alright—they decided (without your permission) that a babysitter would be the best option for your little sister. And you still had to stay at home tonight because your mom asked you to “see if the babysitter is okay for Clementine”.

You’re not sure where the logic was in your parents’ thought process, but you did feel bad about your sister. She had warmed up to you a little bit after yesterday, but you know that she’ll stay closed off for a while. Not only to you, but to everyone else. You wish that your parents had known that. If they did, they’d be able to get that you’re probably the best babysitter for her. But no, they had to invite Jungkook over, someone who’s boisterous and annoying, and they probably expect Clementine to get along with him just fine. (And also, what had even compelled him to start a career in babysitting?)

So you decide to stay, just so she won’t be scared of being in her own house. You have been hard on her for a little bit after all, getting irrational and moody whenever she talks to you. It’s the least you could do for her. Despite everything, you still did really love her. 

She was your sister, for goodness sake!

“Hey, just a reminder,” Jungkook’s at your trash can, throwing away his plate, “Your bedtime’s at 10 tonight.”

It’s a stupid statement, and both of you are aware that the rules are for your sister. You can’t help but feel yourself heat up, though, when he sends a wink your way.

“That’s for my sister, you dumb fu-“

Your obvious response and insult combo is interrupted when you find Clementine standing in the doorway.

“Y/N?” Her voice is timid, shy, and her head hangs low when she speaks. She doesn’t like how there’s some random stranger in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Can we play Telestrations?” She keeps her eyes on you, and you feel yourself soften. It’s been a little bit since the two of you played anything together.

“Mind if I join in?” Jungkook says before you can actually respond to her. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and Clementine blinks at him, stunned. All she does is nod, too afraid to verbally respond to your classmate.

You’re also stunned by his sudden change in demeanor. His cocky aura is replaced with a soft tone, smiling brightly at Clementine instead of smirking at you. He walks over to her, asking her where the board game is. She mumbles something quietly, something only Jungkook can hear, and he responds with an even more enthusiastic grin. He turns to you before they make their way back to the living room.

“You coming, or…?”

So that’s how you find yourself at your coffee table with your little sister and the most annoying person you’ve met in your entire life, getting ready to play a round of Telestrations.

All you can say is that your night definitely isn’t going the way you planned at all.

He’s sitting criss cross applesauce on the carpet, extremely relaxed as you pass out the cards, the drawing pads, and the dry erase markers. You try to hide the scowl you oh so desperately want to show, but if Clementine sees you upset with him, she’ll definitely feel less safe with him.

You don’t know why you’re defending him, but here you are, attempting to be civil with him just to make sure your sister doesn’t feel as threatened as you do. You try your best not to start any fights with him, either. You’ve heard enough about people calling you a bitch at school. Ever since you broke up with Jimin, you’ve somehow been deemed the psychotic ex by all of your peers, because how could Jimin possibly do anything wrong?

You can’t tell what’s worse: the fact that everyone says you’re a bitch, or the fact that girls come up to you now, asking you for advice on your ex-boyfriend.

Sighing, you watch as Clementine rolls a four and chooses “This Side” of the cards. You internally groan when you look at the yellow side of the card. The glossy square seems to laugh at you, presenting what your subject would be.

How the hell were you supposed to draw “tunnel vision”?

Writing your name and the word on the first page, you mentally prepare for the challenge heading your way.

“Y/N,” Clementine calls for you, “Mine isn’t working…”

Jungkook hands his marker to her before you can, and he’s testing all the other markers in the box to see if they’ll work for him. You look at him accusingly, eyes asking him: “What the hell are you trying to gain?” He shrugs at you, a simple action that tells you:

“Sorry, I’m just a great babysitter.”

He quickly goes back to his own card, copying down the words with his new marker. You return your attention to your pad, figuring out how you were going to draw your word.

“Are you gonna set the timer, Clementine?” Jungkook asks, and she shakes her head.

“We don’t use it,” She responds in a mere whisper, and Jungkook can’t hear her.

“Huh?”

“We don’t use the timer,” You answer for her, “It’s more fun that way. You can take your time.”

He nods, and the three of you flip to the first page so you can start.

You draw—well, attempt to draw—a pair of glasses facing two strange rods. You squint at the doodle, examining it as if you had to guess what the answer was. The only possible answers you’ve come up with are that A.) You’re terrible at drawing, B.) Art is definitely not your future career, and C.) No one is going to be able to figure out your drawing, not even yourself.

“So, Clementine,” Jungkook starts, catching both you and your sister’s attention, “That’s a pretty cool name.”

“Thank you,” She doesn’t look up from her pad, too focused on her drawing.

“Do people call you anything else?” He prompts, going to work on his own pad as well.

“What do you mean?” “Like, nicknames.”

“Oh. My friends call me Tina,” She says, “Y/N calls me Clem, though.”

“That’s dope,” He pops the “p”, and the way his mouth moves is enough to annoy you.

“Yeah,” Is all your sister says, and it’s obvious that both of them are determined in making their drawings look good. You, on the other hand, are already done with your sad chicken scratch of a drawing, and you take the time to watch Clementine as she leans close to her pad, right hand clutching the marker tightly.

Like your dad, Clementine was able to immerse herself in a single task, but unlike him, she was incredibly skilled in multitasking. Sometimes, she’d read a book while having a full conversation with you, and she’d still remember the content of the chapter she was reading. It was a skill that you both envied and admired about her, how she could easily redirect her attention to one task while also still performing the second task flawlessly.

“You done already, Y/N?” Jungkook quirks a brow while he looks up from his drawing. You sneak a glance at your sister, who’s immersed in her drawing, before responding.

“Don’t push it,” You mouth out, folding your hands together on your lap while you wait for the other two to finish. Jungkook flashes an obnoxious smirk your way, and it takes everything in you to not kick him in the balls right now.

“I’m done,” Clementine announces, passing her pad to you. You pass yours to Jungkook, praying that he doesn’t say anything too terrible to you. He then passes his to Clementine, completing the circle.

“W-What?” Jungkook mumbles to himself, biting back a laugh while he examines your drawing. You internally groan. There was no use in hoping that he’d have mercy on you.

In an attempt to block out his bothersome snickering, you try to guess what Clementine’s word was. You feel part of yourself die inside, as you can already tell what she’s drawn. You write the word “deer” on the third page, after looking at the drawing one more time. In the short amount of time Clementine had given herself, her depiction of a deer was scarily accurate.

“Are you guys done?”

She has her pad lying on the coffee table while she drums her fingers on the surface. You nod, while Jungkook has his hand covering his mouth. He shakes his head, still trying to decipher your sad, sad drawing. Instead of making fun of you, he’s actually making an effort to figure out what your word was, eyebrows deeply furrowed while his eyes run across your pad multiple times.

You’d feel bad because you truly don’t have an artistic bone in your body, but seeing him frustrated by your doing slightly amuses you.

Jungkook takes a few seconds before taking a deep sigh and quickly scrawling something on your pad. You can’t tell if you’re excited or dreading what he put down for your word, but that doesn’t matter because now you have to draw Clementine’s guess of what Jungkook’s word is.

A frog?

How come everyone else’s words were so easy? And how are you supposed to remember what a frog looks like?

Biting your lip, you hesitantly put the dry erase marker on the pad. You stop when it makes the initial hit, a small dot appearing on the laminated surface. This is because Jungkook’s leaning over to watch you draw, his hair mere centimeters away from tickling your skin. When you freeze, Jungkook finally moves away, turning to face you.

“You need something?” You ask in an accusatory tone. He shrugs.

“I dunno. You look constipated, so I was curious,” He says, working on a new drawing. It’s another dumb yet excruciatingly annoying jab at you, and you’re baffled at how anyone could think that that was something of use to say.

Clementine giggles, and both you and Jungkook gawk at her in surprise. You feel a sense of betrayal, seeing as your own sister finds someone like Jeon Jungkook humorous. But she’s having fun, so maybe your dignity would have to be something to sacrifice tonight.

And your parents wonder whether or not you’re a good older sister for Clementine, as if you weren’t literally tolerating the person you hate most right now just for her. You steady yourself, being proud of your kindness to him so far. The fact that you’ve actually restrained yourself from knocking Jungkook out in itself is a surprise. You’ll be sure to reward yourself with something later.

You go back to your drawing, working on the small bumps for the eye sockets and the wide almond shape of the frog’s mouth. The frog looks incredibly awkward, its eyes a little too close for your liking. Did frogs have nostrils? Obviously, right? You draw two thin slits on top of its long line of a mouth, hoping that that’s what a frog’s nose looks like. It resembles a frog, and honestly you’re willing to take whatever you can get, so you close the pad, waiting for the other two to finish.

When everyone is done and all of the pads have returned to their respective owners, you get ready to present the devolution of your prompts. Clementine’s eager to go first, which puts a soft smile on your face.

She shows off her deer, and then your correct guess, and then Jungkook’s drawing. Quite frankly, you’re quite amazed at Jungkook’s depiction of the prompt.

There’s a cute deer standing on some grass with a few random flowers around it. Like Clementine’s, it’s quite realistic, keeping in mind of the limited time and resources you’ve all had. Jungkook’s chest swells in pride when the two of you stare at his drawing for a few more seconds, secretly admiring his handiwork.

“I didn’t know you could draw!” Clementine’s indirect praises increase his ego but you stay quiet, not willing to say anything too positive around him.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Jungkook responds, pointing out how good her deer is.

Jungkook takes his turn to present, and even his frog is amazing. Then, he flips to your drawing, a failed imitation of a frog compared to Jungkook’s accurate one a few seconds ago.

“Tina,” The sudden use of the nickname confuses you. Since when did he think he could be this informal?

“Yeah?”

“Your sister’s not really the creative one in the family,” The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, “Don’t you think?”

Clementine thinks about what to say while Jungkook watches the steam coming out of your ears in pure delight. No matter how good of an artist Jungkook is, or how good of a babysitter he could be, nothing would ever make you want to be acquaintances with him, let alone being just civil with him. What makes matters worse is that Jungkook can easily get away with making infuriating jabs at you since your sister is here with you.

You also try not to think about how Jungkook is getting paid for tormenting you outside of school, because if you dwell on it for far too long, you don’t know what you’d do.

“Y/N doesn’t have to be good at that kinda stuff,” Clementine turns to you happily, “She’s already cool.”

You sheepishly smile back at her, and then she asks you to show your drawing pad now.

“Okay, so,” You clear your throat, “Uh, my word was tunnel vision.”

“...That actually makes sense now,” Jungkook nods, stroking his chin dramatically. He squints at the drawing as if he was in an art gallery.

“This is my drawing,” You flip the page, revealing your chicken scratch from before. Clementine bursts out laughing, and you can’t help but become a little annoyed at her reaction.

“How did you not get that?” She asks Jungkook, and you feel the anger bubble away and instead become replaced with smugness. Your sister still had your back after all.

“Hey!” He points at your drawing, baffled at your sister, “Look at that and tell me that you’d guess it correctly!”

“Um, yeah,” Clementine snickers.

“How?”

“It’s glasses. Vision,” You chime in, “Then those are tunnels. Tunnel vision, right, Clem?”

“Yeah!”

“What?!” Jungkook gawks while you give your sister a triumphant high five.

“What could you have possibly guessed?” You chuckle, turning the page out of curiosity.

Before you can see the word, however, Jungkook forcibly snatches the pad out of your hands. He’s no match to your quick reflexes, though, because you’re pouncing onto him, pinning him to the carpet so you can retrieve your stolen drawing pad.

You’re about to grab it, but then he grins at you, making you stop in your tracks.

Your eyes widen, realizing how you’re in an extremely close vicinity to him, his face inches away from yours. The two of you make unnerving, silent eye contact, each of you staring at each other’s face from time to time. It’s during this that you notice how big his eyes are, resembling Clementine’s drawing of the deer from before. You also notice the mole under his bottom lip and how his lips are naturally tinted a pleasant pink. Jungkook chuckles tauntingly at you and you come back to your senses. You’ve been staring at his lips far longer than you’d like to admit.

“Can’t get your hands off me, huh?” He whispers, winking at you. The pizza you had eaten 20 minutes ago crawls up your throat right away, and you immediately peel yourself off of him. Jungkook still has the pad in his hands, signalling a victory for him.

You cough awkwardly, returning to your seat and wiping away imaginary dust on your lap. You claw at some loose fabric of your sweatpants, balling up the material in your hands. Jungkook sits up as well, nonchalantly fixing his now messy hair. He remains unphased, even though you were literally on top of him a few seconds ago.

“He put Harry Potter and taquitos,” Clementine says, breaking the silence. Jungkook’s eyes shoot up to send her a glare with feigned annoyance, while you end up laughing a bit louder than you’d like to. Then again, anything to relieve the uncomfortable tension would work.

Jungkook’s cheeks are tinted a shy, light pink, while embarrassment is painted all over his face. It’s a lame situation to laugh at, one that you probably would never admit to anyone that you find it humorous, but seeing Jungkook flustered makes you the happiest girl in the world.

The night continues with Clementine bringing out all of the board games your parents bought you over the years. It’s fun yet unbelievably painful, having to cooperate with Jungkook just for the sake of Clementine. When you played Monopoly with them, you were always reluctant to give Jungkook money, even if it was fake. You were also reluctant to receive money from him, even if the action was beneficial for you and not the other way around.

He spends the night still making stupid jabs at you, some of them earning laughs from your sister. You suck it up and deal with it, because this is the happiest you’ve seen Clementine in a long time, so you just strain a smile and move on.

When it’s about 9:45 PM, the three of you stop playing board games since Clementine has to get ready for bed. You come up to her room so that you can say goodnight and tuck her in.

“Today was fun, Y/N,” She giggles while you pull the covers over to her.

“That’s good to hear, Clemmie,” You respond, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

Before you shut off her light, Clementine grabs the bottom hem of your shirt.

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” The scared look in her eyes tells you that you’re gonna have to stay for a little longer, so you sit down on the bed.

“Are mom and dad gonna be okay?”

At first, you’re shocked that Clementine had even noticed, but then again, she’s always been this observant. And she was 12 already. She wasn’t dumb. It was also obvious that the reason why your parents randomly decided to go to dinner tonight was because they were trying to iron out some issues that they’ve been having.

All you do is nod and ruffle her hair playfully. Another smile appears on her face when you kiss her cheek.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” You say, although you’re not so sure yourself.

Recently, you’ve been having trouble sleeping as well. This was because your parents always start fighting whenever they see that Clementine is asleep. You don’t know what exactly they’re arguing about every night, but you’ve assumed that it must be money issues or something along the lines of that. Real adult stuff that they want to keep you two out of, but it’s so hard to ignore when they’re yelling at each other so loudly.

Clementine’s room is closer to the stairs. Of course it’s not a surprise that she’d notice there was something wrong with your parents.

“Do you think I…?” She mumbles out the question, but you don’t need her to finish the rest of it because you’re wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close to you.

“Don’t ever think that,” You say, sighing, “You didn’t do anything, ok? Mom n’ Dad are just fixing things between themselves.”

She nods, hugging you back.

“You should go to sleep,” You pull yourself off of her, placing yet another kiss on her head before tucking her in under the covers, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Promise?” She sticks out her pinky finger and you chuckle, sticking out yours and looping it around hers.

“I promise.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You say goodnight to her, turning off her lamp and shutting the door. Now that she was attended to, you had to start cleaning up. You walk downstairs to see Jungkook sprawled out over your couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. You wish that the saying “Make yourself at home” never existed, since your parents have an affinity for using it, which in turn forces you to deal with Jungkook laying on your couch like a complete slob.

The first job you assign yourself is to tidy up the living room, and you stack up all of the board games together so you can put it in the random storage closet your house has. Jungkook, of course, doesn’t bat an eye at the fact that you’re cleaning up the house all by yourself.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. You walk over to the kitchen to have another slice of pizza while Jungkook acts like you don’t exist in your own house. Your stomach grumbles obscenely, even though you had a slice a few hours earlier.

It must be the stress. You do tend to be hungrier when you’re under a lot of stress, and today threw many annoyances your way.  

You check your phone and you realize that Hoseok texted you an hour ago.

[October 9, 7:30 PM] Hobi: Y/N i honestly think i’m gonna lose my mind?????????? Y/N? Y/N where tf are u i’m going insane holy shit text me when u get this PLEASE

Right away, your fingers move at the speed of light

[October 9, 10:30 PM] Y/N: omfg hobs you have no idea the shit i just went thru think i got three years taken off of my life anyways sry for the late reply what happened?

The iconic three dots and text bubble show up. You stifle a laugh. Hoseok must’ve been waiting by his phone for your text.

Hobi: i think i may have gotten myself into a date???

Y/N: a WHAT with WHO Hobi: yknow like mymanwhosnotreallymanbutheis yeah him Y/N: ur joking SPILL

You eagerly chew on the cold, stale pizza in your other hand as you wait for Hoseok to tell his whole story. Whether he’d be sending a voice memo or he’d just spam you with a multitude of texts, you never really knew. That’s just how Hoseok was.

But that didn’t really matter, because Hoseok had a date. With the kid he’s liked since the beginning of last year. Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon, coincidentally in Hoseok’s photography class this semester, was easily the smartest person in the whole school. The teachers were more than heartbroken knowing that he’d be graduating this year. The students, more specifically the girls, were also saddened, because Namjoon was also quite attractive. He was tall, kind, and extremely smart, and because of this, he had earned the title as “The Package” by Hoseok. He was everything everyone ever wanted in one person. Accurately put, Kim Namjoon was a  full package.

Hobi: ok well like we have a project in photography class where we have to take pics of nature and i wanted to do the flowers bc yknow, easy A and since u couldn’t hang out today >:( Y/N: hey, not my fault my parents think that i’m a terrible sister

Hobi: yeah u have to tell me how that went but anyways i went out to take pics after practice and guess who i saw? namjoon

Y/N: aaaaAAAAAHHHH

Hobi: YEAH and then we were talking and stuff and it turns out that he’s doing flowers too and then he gave me HIS NUMBER Y/N: omfg,,,

Hobi: i  k n o w so like i think two hrs ago he texted me and we started talking and stuff and then he was like “yknow there are prettier flowers in the botanical garden downtown” and then he asked if i wanted to hang out next week so i said yeah Y/N: holy shit hobs

Hobi: yeah so it’s not really an official date but i’m counting it as one in my book

You hold back a squeal, though you want to scream at the top of your lungs so badly. You opt to just smiling from ear to ear at your screen as you continue to freak out over text.

Hobi: the only problem is that i have to pretend that i like nature :( but not only that…. like i have to know stuff

Now Hoseok’s begging you for advice on nature, and you mention that you also aren’t the biggest nature lover either. Hoseok tells you he’ll have to do some research on flowers and you think that he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. 

Your brief moment of happiness is rudely interrupted, however, when you suddenly see Jungkook before you, standing across from you at the kitchen island.

“You’re still hungry?” He says, opening the box and grabbing the last slice.

“You’re one to talk,” You scowl, watching him take a bite from his pizza.

Jungkook leans on the island, which in turn causes him to be closer to you, since you’re also leaning on the same surface.

“You don’t really smile a lot, baby,” He teases, wiping off sauce from the corner of his mouth.

So there he was. The Jeon Jungkook you’ve known and hated so dearly. He’s always called you random pet names, simply because he knows how much you despise him. It takes everything in you to hold back the urge to cuss him out. The walls are thin and your sister might wake up.

“Don’t call me that, first off,” You spit, “Second off, why do you care so much?”

“Jus’ makin’ conversation,” His cheeks puff up as he continues to stuff his mouth with food.

“Like I give a shit,” You grumble, looking away from the chewed up food that you can see in his mouth. It’s so unfortunate that Jungkook thinks it’s a good idea to talk while eating.

“Wow, you’re so mean to me,” He takes a large swallow of his food and then pouts, “You’re killin’ me here, babe.”

Despite his seemingly sad words, Jungkook’s giving you a big, toothy grin. He winks at you for the umpteenth time tonight, and you try to think of all the ways to kill someone in silence. Right now, you wish that Clementine was awake, because it’s only around her that he seems to be somewhat decent towards you.

“You have a nice house and nice parents,” He says, more to himself rather than you as his eyes scan the tidy kitchen, “And your sister’s so nice. Why aren’t you?”

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

Some would say that 10 PM is too late to have a nonsensical argument with some douchebag quarterback from your grade, but here you are having a ridiculously heated dispute with Jungkook at 10 PM. Again, all of this is happening in your own house.  

You roll your eyes at him, and you wonder how you haven’t hurt yourself by the amount of times you’ve done that today.

The two of you eat pizza in angered silence, an uncomfortable situation you never thought you’d ever have in your entire life. Well, you’re a lot angrier than Jungkook, who’s got a smug, satisfied look on his face because he just thinks it’s so much fun to annoy the hell out of you. That makes you even more upset, which causes you to get angry with yourself because you know you shouldn’t let someone get to you like this. It’s a never ending cycle of negativity whenever you’re around him, really.

Soon enough, the faint, muffled sound of the garage opening is heard through the door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. That’s Jungkook’s signal to leave.

Before he leaves, though, he turns to you yet again.

“Thanks for the money,” He winks, “And the free pizza.”

The weekend goes by pretty slowly, but eventually, you end up in the classroom again.

Your school day is pretty much uneventful until you get to 5th hour Pre-Calc.

The busy click, click, click of mechanical pencils and the sound of scribbles from students’ writing are all you can hear after lunch. You follow their leads, hastily scrawling down your own notes on the lines of your notebook on your desk. Once you finally get into the zone of your note taking, you feel Jungkook lean in behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the cologne he uses, and the familiar odor sets off your flight or fight system.

Now that your parents have officially “hired” Jungkook as Clementine’s full-time babysitter, you realize that you’ll be forced to see him more often and have that strong, pungent cologne constantly wafting into your nostrils. You’re certain that you’d lose your sense of smell eventually.

If only Clementine hadn’t continued praising him after he left last Friday. Maybe then your house would actually be a safe haven for you. But no, now Jungkook is allowed to come and go into your house whenever your parents need him. (Again, as if they didn’t have a whole other daughter who was willing to take care of Clementine.)

But that’s another issue to worry about later, because Jungkook’s obnoxiously chomping down on his gum right in your ear. He’s so close that you can practically smell the watermelon flavor from his mouth, and you want to barf.

All you can think is: A.) Who in their right minds would ever actively choose watermelon gum over mint, and B.) Who would think it’s a good idea to chew on their gum so damn loud in the middle of class?

To both of those questions, the answer is Jungkook, plain and clear.

“Do you mind?” You hiss at him as you try to copy what the teacher has written on the chalkboard, “This isn’t a fucking ASMR channel.”

“Slow your roll there, baby,” His words come out in a teasing lilt, the pet name causing you to tighten your grip on your pencil, “First off, mind your business. Second off, I’d be an amazing ASMR youtuber, thank you very much.”

He’s imitating the way you talk to him, which makes your blood boil yet again.

“Well, you’re not giving me any chills.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

His statement causes you to freeze in your seat, mind racing as you try to think of a good comeback. Nothing appears, and you’re sure that if you were in the right headspace, you would’ve already had something good to say.

But you’re still going through heartbreak and the stress of dealing with your parents, so all you can muster to say is:

“You’re disgusting.”

Your words remind you of Friday night, which then makes you want the Earth to cave in under you and swallow you whole. You’re still dumbfounded at how Jungkook was able to come into your house without setting off all of the security systems your parents have installed there.

“Aw, baby girl,” The use of that pet name makes the digested lunch from 20 minutes ago crawl up your throat rapidly, “You really got me there! I’m so hurt, you know that? You’re so mean to me.”

You can’t see him, but you just know that he’s clutching his heart dramatically. Your whole body burns up in flames as you imagine the annoying smile on his face, the way it tugs to the right side a little more because he’s so proud of himself. He can see the steam pouring out of your ears, and all that does is egg him on.

Now he’s poking your back lazily with the end of his pencil, propping his head up on his elbow as he tries his hardest not to laugh.

It takes approximately ten seconds until you snap.

Once the pencil hits your back for the umpteenth time, you reach behind you quickly, snatching it and tugging it forcefully out of his hands. Without thinking, you hold the ends of the pencil between your fists and when your fists shoot up away from each other, the pencil breaks in half cleanly. You’re satisfied with the splintering ends of Jungkook’s pencil while he’s gawking at you, wondering how the hell you could have broken a pencil without any struggle. The smug smile is now on your face, but it quickly fades away when Ms. Lee turns to you and places her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. You make eye contact with her and you immediately straighten up your seat, your breath hitching as you attempt to remain calm under her threatening presence.

You weren’t scared of many things, but Ms. Lee definitely made your skin crawl.

“Miss Y/N?” Her voice booms all the way to your seat in the back of the class, “Would like to share with the class as to why exactly you’re breaking a pencil in the middle of my lesson?”

“No, ma’am,” You quickly respond, your words coming out in a pathetic squeak.

You can feel the mischievous gaze Jungkook has on you, but you pay no attention to it. The teacher grunts, turning her back to the class and resuming her ever so important task of writing important formulas on the chalkboard.

You let out a soft groan and you noticeably slump in your seat, making Jungkookk chuckle.

“Nice save there, Y/N.”

“Fuck off, will you?” You toss the pencil halves back onto his desk, not wanting to have anything to do with any of Jungkook’s property. You made a mental note to wash your hands once class ended so you could rid yourself of whatever pathogens lurked on Jungkook’s pencil.

“Do you always have such a way with words?”

If you were in a private space with Jungkook, where his hands are tied and he couldn’t do anything to hurt you, you’re sure that he would’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp by now. You desperately yearn to have just one day where you can beat his ass.

But you frown, knowing that that day would never come.

“Do you always act like a pretentious dick?”

“Baby girl,” The name returns and you have never wanted to kill someone as much as you’d like to Jeon Jungkook right here, right now, in 5th Hour Pre-Calc with Ms. Lee, “If there’s anything to describe this dick, it’s certainly not pretentious, I’ll have you know that.”

“Wow,” You scoff, “Do you always have such a way with words?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact-“

“Miss Y/N and Mr. Jungkook!” Ms. Lee bellows, “I am teaching a lesson! Would you like to share-“

“No, ma’am!”

You keep your head low, continuing to copy down the notes on the board. Jungkook kicks the back of your seat multiple times throughout class, and the only thing you can think is:

How is this guy allowed to be around little kids?

Usually, when you see someone regularly in your life, your bond with them grows stronger. But with Jeon Jungkook, you’ve learned with each passing day that your hate for him becomes stronger and stronger. And it’s been exactly five weeks. You’ve kept track.

Because now that he’s your sister’s babysitter, he’s become a lot more involved in your life. At least, he’s become involved in Clementine’s life (which ultimately means yours as well).

And as a result, your parents have started going out almost every single night, save for when there’s a football game or when Jungkook is too busy with homework. This meant that he was at your house at least 3 times a week, sometimes even more, because he just loved being with your family and your family just had to feel the same way. Sometimes your parents would even ask him to drive Clementine home from school. 

(An issue that would easily be solved if they let you learn how to drive. But apparently that was absolutely preposterous.)

One thing you’ve learned about Jungkook is that he’s scarily good at acting. He’s amazing at being sweet to Clementine, offering to drive her home after school whenever he can and creating inside jokes with her all the time as if he wasn’t planning on ruining your life this whole time. Since he’s such a “good babysitter”, your parents have started having him come over for dinner, and almost every night you had to restrain yourself from starting a food fight with him. He was always polite to your parents, though, making easy conversation with them at the table but never even daring to say a single word to you.

If someone was on the outside looking in, they’d think that Jungkook was a good person. Like a superhero, however, when he was around you, he would take off his disguise and reveal what he really is: a conceited jock who only thought with his dick.

The only possible benefit of him taking care of Clementine is that you have a lot more freedom now. That freedom has turned into occasional hangouts with Hoseok on the weekend. You’d usually use any chance you could get of hanging out with your best friend, but you also didn’t trust the dangerous human being who was constantly in your house, watching her. As a result, you’ve chosen to stay at home with Clementine, babysitting her babysitter. You label it as being a protective older sister.

But as Jungkook annoyingly puts it, with his notorious, cocky grin:

“You really like my company, don’t you, babe?”

He couldn’t be further from the truth.

This is different from tonight, though, because you’re relishing in the overly sweet, artificial taste of the strawberry shake right in front of you. It tastes like relief, like some much needed freedom from your overbearing parents on a Thursday evening.

Today, they took it upon themselves to lecture you about your sleeping schedule, telling you it’s irresponsible to stay up so late. What they don’t get is that you’ve been working on an important paper for your AP Lang class while also helping one of your classmates with their own paper. It strikes you that they don’t realize how much schoolwork your teachers pile on you. And it infuriates you even more that they always jump to the conclusion that you’re a bad kid, even though you’ve constantly had good grades while balancing schoolwork with cheer. That notion’s always gone unnoticed.

Of course, this wasn’t a pretty sight to be seen, your parents arguing with you right before their dinner date, and coincidentally, right as Jungkook stepped into the house. You don’t know what his reaction was, but you presume that he was most likely stunned. The only time you’re ever truly enraged, bluntly saying whatever harsh comments come to your mind, is when your mom starts to belittle you. This was the first time Jungkook’s ever seen you this upset. Or articulate.

It was safe to say that things didn’t end well, you storming up into your room and slamming the door.

And, as expected, you chose to have a much needed diner date with Hoseok tonight. Clementine even encouraged you to go, saying that she’d be fine with Jungkook, but you couldn’t help but still be concerned for her safety.

“Y/N, stop checking your phone,” Hoseok whines, snatching it from you, “What’s got your panties in such a knot?”

You grumble in protest when Hoseok scrolls through your conversation with your little sister over text message.

The music from the old, torn down jukebox fills the diner, and you’re surprised that it still even works. That jukebox has been there ever since your parents were kids. Nonetheless, you enjoy the nice, cheery melodies playing from it. You kick at some random bits of fries on the floor, your beaten red converse still visible under the dark shadows of the table. The diner smells of fried food, a scent that you’ll happily breathe in everyday. There’s an elderly couple sitting at the other end of the diner, waiting for their waitress to bring them their food. The old lady waves to you, and you wave back, flashing a small smile her way.

“Y/N, Tina’s gonna be perfectly fine,” He says, creating a shooing motion with his hand, “It’s not like he’s going to kill her.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He literally loves her,” Hoseok takes a bite of his burger, some of the juice from the patty seeping out, “Yesterday he asked me to ask you what type of music Tina liked, Remember? Granted, he was too scared to talk to you. but-”

“Don’t,” You groan, stealing a fry as compensation, “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, I don’t like him either,” He says, “But I’m just sayin’ that you don’t gotta worry so much. Your sister’s 12 already. She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And technically, there would be no clear motive for him to do anything wrong because he’s getting paid,” Hoseok takes a fry for himself, “Why would he feel a need to get rid of his only source of income? That’d be ridiculous.”

You sigh, resting your head on the table in defeat. He was right. Even if Jungkook was a douchebag towards you, he wasn’t insane.

“Don’t do that!” Hoseok scolds, flicking your forehead, “Your menu was just on that table!”

“So?” You rub your forehead in a failed attempt to the pain Hoseok has just inflicted onto you.

“You know menus can have 185,000 germs per square centimeter?” He exasperatedly explains, pulling out some hand sanitizer from his backpack, “Or was it only 85,000…? No, I remember it being-“

“Wonder where you got that information,” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows while you cleanse yourself with Hoseok’s hand sanitizer. The tips of Hoseok’s ears turn red in seconds, and you laugh at his misfortune.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” He grumbles, hiding his face in his hands. You giggle, eating so many of Hoseok fries that he decides to order some more for you. That’s how your diner “dates” usually went, you only ordering a shake but then stealing all of Hoseok’s food.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“He’s adorable, as always, but he’s really… How do I say this?” He pretends to search for the right words before deadpanning, “An absolute fucking idiot.”

“What?” The statement catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your shake.

“He’s so dumb, Y/N,” Hoseok hits his forehead with his palm, “So we’ve been hanging out a lot, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me why he can’t get the clue that I want him to actually ask me out?!” He groans, “Like, I’ve been trying to bring up prom, but he doesn’t get from the multiple times that I’ve said that I don’t have a date that I want him to ask me…”

Hoseok angrily chomps down on the last bit of his burger, while you’re still roaring in hysterics about how he finds Namjoon frustratingly adorable.

“I don’t get boys,” He pouts, “I really don’t. And I am one!”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, sipping the rest of the shake in your glass.

The two of you catch up on everything you haven’t been able to share from weeks before, since school can provide only so much time for talking. When spending time with Hoseok, you realize how often you let the little things get to you. You tend to sweat the small stuff so much that you don’t realize all the good things happening to you. It was a nice albeit short break from reality, sitting with Hoseok in your favorite diner with your favorite strawberry shake and some greasy, delicious fries.

Eventually, you end up back at home at 10:30 PM. You come a little bit later than your assigned curfew, but it’s not like your parents would notice. They’d be home even later, since they’re stuck at your grandparents’ house. You snicker to yourself while you unlock the door, imagining the invigorating conversations they’re having over there.

The first thing you’re (begrudgingly) met with is Jungkook sitting on your couch, watching football.

“You’re home late,” He says, eyes glued to the screen. You kick off your shoes, letting them land wherever they want to, and you ignore him. You weren’t about to let anyone, not even Jungkook, ruin the fun night you had. It was too much for you to be constantly miserable.

Then, as if on cue, the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafts into your nose rather pleasantly.

“Did you guys bake?” You ask quietly, taking off your jacket. Jungkook nods.

You walk over to the garage door, where the coat closet is. Putting away your jacket, you smile to yourself. A cookie sounds amazing right now.

Grabbing some milk out of the fridge, you pour yourself a glass and take a second to really take in the beauty of the cookies. They’re perfectly browned at their edges, while their center is a light tan, and there’s a few visible chocolate chunks in all of them. Your mouth waters, despite stuffing yourself with milkshakes and fries. You place three cookies on a plate.

“I’ll be in my room,” You say as you walk up the stairs. You know Jungkook doesn’t care, but it’s been a force of habit ever since you were a kid.

When you reach your room, you quickly open the dormer window so you can sit on the roof.

If you were ever to meet the person who designed this house, you would give them a big hug and ask them to marry you, regardless of their gender. The dormer window and its alcove has been a safe space for you growing up, and you sit on the roof every time you need to clear your mind or if you just needed to treat yourself on an especially rough day.

You swing your legs outside the window, slowly moving near the edge of the sill until you’re comfortable. The brisk night air makes its way into your room, the wind pushing your hair gently in different directions. There’s a soft symphony of crickets chirping, and you take this moment to stare at the night sky.

A handful of stars shine in the pitch black sky, more than you’d see in the city but less than you’d see in the country. You make a silent prayer that one day that you’d be able to experience what a full starry night sky would be like.

Your plate of cookies and glass of milk is placed on the window seat. A cookie finds its way off of the plate, into your hands, and then into your mouth. The first bite is perfect, bits of chocolate and cookie crumbs left on your lips. You lick them eagerly, feeling nothing but euphoric as you take a sip of your milk.

“Never knew Tina could bake,” You hear a low voice behind you. It’s soft, but you still jump when you’re taken out of your cookie-intoxicated trance.

Looking up, you see Jungkook at your door, walking over to you. Your face is stuffed with mashed up cookie bits and some milk, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too tired to care, nonchalantly wiping off your faint milk moustache with the sleeve of your sweater.

“She’s great at it.”

“I know,” He chuckles before pointing to the window cushion, “Mind if I…?”

“If I said that I did mind,” You move your plate and your glass to the side so Jungkook has space, “What would you do?”

“I’d sit down anyways,” He jokes, doing just as he says.

“No point in asking, then.”

An awkward silence befalls the two of you, but that’s how nights with the babysitter went, unnerving pauses constantly appearing as he tries to figure out what to say to annoy you.

In fact, you’ve created a game out of these situations. You try to guess what he’ll tell you this time. Right now, you’re betting that he’ll mention something about your peach fuzz, or that you’re a fattie for having cookies late at night. He’s called you thunder thighs before. You wouldn’t put him past calling you a fattie.

“She talks about you a lot, y’know.”

You’re initially taken aback, but the night is too calming, so now you’re pulling your legs close to your chest, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You have your back turned to him, sitting on the window sill while he’s on the window seat, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You hear him sniffle, “Didn’t know that you liked the Power Rangers so much.”

“Are you kidding me?” You turn around to face him, “That was my childhood.”

“Mine too,” He smiles, one that’s different from his usual smirk, “Favorite ranger?”

“Trini, easily,” You point to the Yellow Ranger plushie laying on your bed, and he chuckles.

“I personally like Zordon the most.”

It’s not something you’d usually laugh at, but Jungkook ends up cracking up at his own joke and somewhere along the way, you find yourself giggling at it as well.

Another silence comes, and you finish the rest of your cookies and milk while he fidgets nervously with his hands. If Jungkook was trying to have a conversation with you right now, he was failing miserably. It’s somewhat interesting to you, seeing him open his mouth to speak, hesitate, and then closing it out of the corner of your eye.

It’s kind of cute, even.

You blink, looking forward. What the hell were you thinking? Was the loneliness really getting to you that quickly?

“Tina made those for you, actually.”

“That’s sweet of her.”

“Yeah, um,” Jungkook scratches the nape of his neck, “She told me more about what happened earlier today.”

“Huh?”

“With your parents.”

“Oh.”

You imagine what Clementine must’ve thought, seeing your parents continue to yell at you for hours on end about your sleeping schedule. She hates seeing her family upset, and that probably made her sad for a while. You hope that she’s sleeping peacefully in her room right now, tucked away into a land of dreams.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, “I’m sorry about that.”

Involuntarily, you let out a scoff. Whether it’s directed towards him or your parents, you’re not sure. You are quite surprised, though. Since when did Jungkook ever apologize for anything? Since when did he ever feel bad?

“No need to be sorry,” You mumble, “Not like you did anything.”

Another silence, this time being accented with some awkward coughing.

“I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

“You think my parents getting on my back about sleep is sweet?”

“No, no, no,” He quickly sputters out, “I mean that your sister cares about you so much. I think that’s really sweet.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” You say, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, “That’s Clementine for ya. Sweet.”

“Like the fruit.”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, “Did you know her name means ‘mercy’?”

It’s a fact you like to share with anyone willing to hear.

“That’s really cool, actually.”

“Yeah, my mom chose that name because I was too mean when I was younger,” You shake your head at the memory, “She said that we’d need someone more forgiving in the family, so the name stuck.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” He laughs, and there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, “It’s nice, having dinner with you guys.”

“Dinner’s alright. Shockingly average,” You shrug, drawing out the last two words, “Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s nice to see you and Clementine together, I guess,” He runs a hand through his hair, “Things like that aren’t so simple for me.”

“What’s wrong with your home?” Your tone seems a lot more blunt and judgemental than you intended it to be, but Jungkook isn’t phased. He laughs at your question, even.

“Which one?”

You got the memo.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re not the reason why my parents split,” He says nonchalantly, but then he laughs at himself again, “You know, I have a little brother too. He’s a little bit younger than Tina.”

You turn around and stare at him, and you’re unable to hide the surprise in your face. The position of you constantly craning your neck just to talk to him is uncomfortable, so you sit on the other side of the alcove, pulling your legs to your chest once more.

“What’s his name?”

“Yeonjin.”

“Not trying to be mean, but I always thought you were an only child. You kinda give off the vibe,” You rest your chin on your knees, “How come he’s never with you?”

“I don’t blame you,” He says, “It’s ‘cause he tries to always be with our dad. He also hates my guts, so there’s that, too.”

“...Can I ask why?”

The warm glow of your bedroom light shines on one half of his face, while the dim lighting from outside paints his other half. You take in his appearance, how his hair has gotten messier every time he runs his hands through it, how his soft brown eyes are bouncing around your room, studying each poster and each picture that you have placed on your wall. He takes a sharp breath before speaking.

“I hate my dad,” He scratches his cheek, “Well, not really? I don’t know, it’s confusing.”

“I get that.”

“I caught him cheating on my mom, I think two years ago,” He bites his lip, “And y’know, I told my mom. So they split.”

You nod, listening intently to every word he says.

“Yeon doesn’t know that. I begged them not to tell him,” He says, resting his head on the wall and staring out the window, “So he thinks that I’m why they’re not together.”

It’s during that moment where you realize that you don’t know much about Jungkook outside of the classroom and your home. You try to imagine what he must’ve felt during that moment, seeing his own dad with another woman. Then, you think about what it was like for him to know that his brother still blames him and will continue to blame him for everything.

The conclusion you reach is that you can never truly know the pain that he’s going through.

“You know it’s not your fault, though, right?” You point out, “It’s your dad’s.”

“Yeah, can’t help but feel bad sometimes, y’know?”

“I mean, no shit.”

A few light, sad chuckles emit from both of your lips.

“Well, that was strangely freeing,” He hummed, “I think you’re the second person in our school who knows that now… I don’t really know why I shared that, sorry.”

You look at him. He’s still staring out the window, his Adam’s apple clearly defined since his head is leaning back. His black shirt stretches loosely over his skin, giving you a vague hint of the muscles underneath, and his sweatpants make him look… cuddly, almost. You don’t know why, but somehow he seems as if he’d be so comfortable to hug.

Even if he’s in basic clothing, he still seems to look good.

Your initial reaction to this thought is that it’s wrong, but you’re too tired to protest it. Instead, you’re focused on how shy Jungkook has gotten, how he avoids direct eye contact and slurs his words together, save for the occasional stutters in between his sentences.

“Don’t feel bad, that’s pretty heavy. You gotta let that shit out sometimes.”

“Yeah…” He says, more to himself rather than to you, “Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“What’s up?”

“Why’d you and Jimin break up?” His eyes are on yours, and he’s immediately trying to take back his question, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, cause that’s none of my business-“

“You’re good,” You chuckle, “He cheated on me.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, I never knew...” He frowns, “Y’know, everyone thought you were endgame.”

“Me too,” You replied, “But apparently not.”

It isn’t until you feel Jungkook’s hand on your face that you realize you’re crying. He gently wipes away the influx of tears falling from your eyes, not saying anything sarcastic or mean towards you. He’s just… there. Ready and willing to listen. He even shuts the window when he notices you shivering, a shocking contrast from his usual behavior towards you.

It’s the first time anyone other than Hoseok has asked you for the real story. The first time someone that’s not your best friend has actually taken the time to listen to the truth.

“You know that’s not your fault, either, right?”

He’s repeating your words, but for some reason they don’t sound so convincing to you.

“I dunno,” You sniffle, “Feels like it is.”

“Why would it be? He cheated on you. Not the other way around.”

You take a few moments to steady your breathing before you speak. You don’t know why you want to spill your emotions out to Jungkook, but under the moonlight and your bedroom lights, there’s a sense of security in opening up to him.

“This is gonna sound so fucking stupid,” You start, “And you better not tell anyone, or else I’m for sure gonna kill you right when I see you.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I’ve never… done it,” You cringe right when the words come out of your mouth, “I told Jimin that we should wait until we… y’know.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” He states, and you can’t help but be surprised at how understanding he could be.

“You don’t think it’s a little bit weird?”

“Nah,” He replies, “I also think it’s absolutely not a reason to cheat. There’s literally no valid reason in doing that, no matter how unsatisfied you are with your partner.”

“I guess so.”

The fact that Jungkook is getting mad in your stead makes you giggle.

“And plus, it was you. How do you cheat on someone like that?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook pauses for a minute, processing what he had just said.

“I mean, if I was Jimin- No, I mean, if I was me,” He gestures to himself, “Which I am, I would never cheat on my partner. It just makes no sense. You already have a whole ass person who likes you. I think I’d be happy enough with that already.”

“Yeah, you’d think so,” You add, and now it’s you taking a few moments before speaking again, “Um, thanks, by the way. For talking with me, and stuff.”

“Oh, no worries,” He smiles at you, “Just kinda wanted to see how you were doing because of earlier. You did look pretty upset before you left the house.”

You smile back, and it seems like he’s about to say something, but the sound of the garage interrupts him, signalling that it’s time for him to leave. He stands up from the alcove and grabs your empty plate and cup to bring downstairs.

“Hey, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”

You both know the answer to the question but Jungkook asks it anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” You can’t seem to wipe off the grin present on your face, “There’s nowhere else I could be.”

If you had to go back in time and tell yourself that eventually Jungkook would start driving you home after school and that you’d actually enjoy his company, you’re certain that your past self you’d slap your future self in the face and say that you were insane.

And maybe the latter was true.

“You’re terrible at singing,” He snickers, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road.

You’d retort and say that he doesn’t know shit and you’re actually an amazing singer, but you’re too preoccupied screaming One Direction lyrics off the top of your lungs. You decide to just jokingly flip him off instead.

The band’s songs hold a close place in your heart, because their music was what brought you and your sister closer. Although you’ve somewhat grown out of their cheesy lyrics about love and youth, you had to admit that their music was extremely catchy.

And apparently Jungkook thought this as well, because he was quietly singing along to each song word for word.

“Didn’t know you were a fan,” You tease, and he’s caught off guard.

“I’m not…”

“I bet you cried when Zayn left.”

He doesn’t look at you, because he’s driving, but the tips of his ears turn bright red, and you roar in hysterics at his reaction.

“You know I very well could’ve just left you at school,” He’s got a smile on his face despite his harsh words.

“Oh, you’d never,” You reply, staring out the window and enjoying the basic scenery around you.

After the one night where Jungkook and you dumped all your emotional baggage on each other, you found yourself looking forward to him being in your company from now on.

At first, you only decided to be nice to him since he knew the fact that you were with Park Jimin—that bombshell of a boy—and you never got it on with him. It’s not something you’re ashamed of, but you know you’d hate it if anyone else knew, because the rumor that you were crazy would just then become truer and truer to them. So you became nicer, gentler with Jungkook. Plus, hearing his story made your heart sadden a little whenever you saw how excited he was to be with Clementine.

And somewhere along the way, between him walking you to your classes and buying a Poptart pack and saving one for you after school every day, you realized that maybe he wasn’t such a bad kid to be around. He seemed to like being with you a lot too, always offering to drive you home when you had practice and when you didn’t, he’d offer to get fast food with you before going home.

Maybe it was the solidarity of experiencing pain, or it very well could just be that you’re one of the only people who knows Jungkook’s secrets and he’s one of the only people who knows about yours. Maybe there’s some pity for each other present, or it’s simply just because the both of you are tired of constantly bickering whenever you’re within a 20 foot-wide radius of each other.

You could spend countless hours trying to draw a conclusion, and you’ve tried to, during the late nights where you can’t sleep where you’re tossing and turning around restlessly. But eventually, you end up falling asleep, always answerless to the paradox you’ve been trying to solve.

Whatever the answer was, you’ve stopped caring about it, because you deemed it useless to keep trying to find it.

“How’s the new routine going?” He asks, desperate to change the topic.

“It’s going, that’s for sure,” You chuckle, “I think we just need a little bit more practice and we’ll be good.”

One thing that you’ve learned about Jungkook after becoming his friend is that he loses his natural vulgarity when you know about his family history.

You noticed this when Hoseok came over to your house one night and Jungkook didn’t call you a demeaning pet name at all during the time being. He also never bothered the two of you, making some small talk with Hoseok before leaving to play Just Dance with your sister. (He bought her that game when he found out that you guys had a Nintendo Switch that you never use).

The first thing Hoseok said to you when the two of you went to your room and you closed the door was:

“Where the hell is Jungkook and what the fuck did you do to him?”

It was a comical night, Hoseok freaking out over the wonderful, ever elusive mysteries named Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook.

Another thing you (and Hoseok) had learned about Jungkook is that, surprisingly enough, his best friend was the Kim Namjoon himself.

This happened that same night, when Jungkook knocked on the door and accidentally overheard Hoseok say his name. Jungkook’s initial reaction was:

“It’s you?!” He almost shrieked in disbelief, “You’re the one Joon has a crush on?!”

His words, of course, came with a shrill: “He has a crush on me?!” from Hoseok.

Through this rude awakening, Hoseok and you learned that Namjoon was the only friend Jungkook had. Apparently, he started tutoring Jungkook when Jungkook was about to fail freshman year. Jungkook said that Namjoon was the only reason as to why he survived his first year of high school, and because of that he never left Namjoon alone. Eventually, they had strangely become the best of buddies.

And being the best of buddies meant that he knew Namjoon’s secrets.

(Safe to say, it was a rough night for both Hoseok and Jungkook but a fun one for you.)

“How’s Seok and Joon?” Jungkook asks, out of the blue, and you can tell the question has been on his mind.

“Hobi’s waiting for Namjoon to make a move.”

“Ha, that’s funny.”

“What?”

“Namjoon’s waiting for him to.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I honestly wish I was,” He chuckles, driving into your subdivision.

“It’s amazing how glaringly obvious the two of them are,” You sigh, “Hoseok made bracelets for him. Tell me that that doesn’t scream: ‘Oh hey, by the way, I like you!’”

“Yeah, Joon has so many pics of him on his Insta, you’d think they’d be dating by now…”

“They’re really, really oblivious.”

“Well,” He shrugs, taking a turn into your driveway, “It happens to the best of us.”

Jungkook walks out of the car, heads over to your door, and as usual he helps you out while reaching for your backpack and your cheer bag so he can carry them for you.

Clementine’s sitting in the kitchen, working diligently on her math homework.

“Tina!” Jungkook sings, setting down your bag on the couch. You walk over with him to her, and she has a bright smile on her face when she sees the two of you together.

“Hi!” She responds, “I’ve got something to tell you guys!”

“What is it?” You ask, sitting next to her and taking a peek at her worksheet. It’s something about fractions.

“I think I have a crush!”

“Holy-“ You stop yourself before you can say anything bad, “Uh, wow, Clem!”

“Yeah, wow…”

You and Jungkook look at each other with somewhat sad eyes. He may not have known her for as long as you have, but he feels the same, strange dull pain that you’re feeling in your chest.

Your little sister isn’t so little anymore.

Tonight was going to be a long one.

Late night conversations with Jungkook at your dormer window have become a regular thing.

It’s the moments where fatigue starts to really hit the two of you that you have the most fun with him. There’s no shame in what you say, and no judgement stemming from one another. During then, it’s just you, Jungkook, the occasional plate of pizza and snacks, and the moon.

“I can’t believe she has a crush already,” You muse, a hint of melancholy in your tone.

“She’s 12, Y/N.”

“That’s still too young, don’t you think?”

“How old were you when you had one?”

“I think,” You pause, sorting out your vague childhood memories, “In Kindergarten, maybe?”

“My point exactly.”

You curse under your breath as you’re obviously defeated. You hate when logic is used against you. Jungkook just laughs, performing his usual habit of rubbing his nose and jerking his head so his hair can stay out of his eyes. Both of you are leaning on either side of the alcove and the window is slightly open so that you can hear the regular music of crickets outside. A light gush of wind blows through, gently shifting around random strands of your hair.

Jungkook’s yet again scrolling through his phone, looking at funny memes on Instagram and sending them to the group chat titled: “Namjoon’s Angels” that he so cleverly named. Your phone buzzes multiple times, and when you turn it on, 4 notifications from the said group chat appear on your screen. They’re all from him. You look at the boy in front of you and he’s got a delighted smile on, eyes crinkled up into crescent moons while he’s so focused on whatever’s on his phone.

“We’re in the same room, Kook,” You say, showing your screen to him, and Jungkook’s a bit surprised at the nickname, but he quickly shoots you a fake glare before going back to his own phone.

“Those aren’t just for you, princess,” He retorts, tapping away on his screen, “Those are for Joon and Hoseok too.”

Your phone buzzes once more, and this time it’s a notification from just Jungkook.

[November 15, 10:40  PM] jeon.jk on Instagram *Sent a post* [November 15, 10:40 PM] jeon.jk on Instagram This one’s for you! :)

Upon opening the chat, you’re met with an obscure picture of-

[November 15, 10:41] y/nnnn_ beans? jeon.jk Beans.

You send him a questioning look, and Jungkook squeakily laughs, almost out of breath by how funny he thinks the picture is.

jeon.jk Do you not like it? I think it’s rather nice.

The most surprising thing you’ve discovered about Jungkook is that he’s quite the articulate texter, which is a weird juxtaposition from his usual character. It’s certainly the strangest thing you’ve known about him.

y/nnnn_ it’s quite off putting jeon.jk :(

“I’m right in front of you,” You declare, turning off your phone and putting it on the cushion. Jungkook rolls his eyes, but nonetheless does the same.

“But that’s no fun.”

“You’re so weird, you know that?”

“I like to think I’m pleasant to be around.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. He sticks his tongue out at you before looking out the window.

“Are you going to the football game tomorrow night?”

“Kook.”

“What?”

“I’m on the cheer team…”

“Oh,” His lips form a small, tight circle and then spread into a sheepish smile once he connects the dots, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He starts, “Anyways, did you get invited to the party after?”

“At Taehyung’s?” You ask, and he nods, “I did, yeah.”

“You gonna go?”

You bite your lip, deep in thought over the question. Hoseok got invited too, and he was begging you to go because you hadn’t talked to Namjoon enough, save for whenever he asks you where Hoseok is after school.

While it would be a good idea to come along and really start to get to know your best friend’s crush, you could already tell that it wouldn’t slide with your parents.

“There’d be no one to babysit Clementine,” You reason, “I mean I’d love to, but yeah…”

Jungkook visibly deflates, so much so that he looks like a cartoon character. You suppress a laugh, an apology coming out instead so that you don’t make him feel any worse.

“No, I get it,” He sighs, shoulders slumped down, “It’s no worries then. We’ll still see each other after the game, then, right?”

“If you really want to, sure.”

“I want to.”

You smile at him, and Jungkook mirrors you, a toothy grin flashing your way.

Your favorite moments with your unconventional, newfound friend are during the late nights, because of times like this. Around you and around him, the world is soft and light. There’s a calming simplicity when you’re talking to Jungkook, and your chest constantly feels light and fluttery. His lame jokes become funnier, and your words towards him become kinder.

Even though it’s dark, the nights seem to shed light on who the two of you really are and how you two really feel about each other.

There’s no malice, no ill intentions towards each other either. You like being there with him. Time isn’t an obstacle, which is something you’ve always felt slipped out of your hands like fine sand. The world just comes to a standstill, both of you trying to talk as much as you can before your parents come home.

For you, time has been a nuisance. You lose sleep while you hunched over your desk, working on assignments because the night is the only freetime you have. Because of that (and so that you can peacefully talk to Jungkook whenever he babysits), you simply just do your homework in the morning. Your alone time is always cut short, since you’re swamped with cheer, homework, and family obligations.

You hated how time ran out.

After all, your time with Jimin had run out.

But when you’re sitting on the cushion in your alcove with Jungkook, you slowly but surely start to adjust to the ever changing world around you. Sure, you feel guilty about constantly dumping your emotional baggage to someone you’ve just become friends with after two years of having pure hatred for them, but time and time again he’s always reassured you, telling you that he really didn’t mind you venting to him.

It’s not like Jungkook was your only option, since you always had Hoseok to rant to. But seeing Hoseok happy made you happy, and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a complete pity party.

So yeah, maybe Jungkook was the only option you had. You didn’t really mind either, since Jungkook had his fair share of problems that he’d talk to you about. There was no point in feeling bad at all, actually. There was a fair exchange of listening and venting between both sides.

You did find having an issue to restrain yourself around him. Everytime he spoke about his brother, you just wanted to jump into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. Even more so when his voice cracked and slowly turned into silent whispers and warbled mumbles. Your heart always broke when he would start blinking more and more so that his tears wouldn't come out. Sometimes, when things really got rough, he’d let a few ones fall, but he always followed it up with forced laughter and a strained smile.

It always made you wonder if he was hiding anything else from you.

“Wait, Y/N,” He says, raising a pointer finger up, “You can go to the party!”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you forget?” He asks, seeing how confused you are, “I’m Tina’s babysitter.”

“I didn’t forget that…?”

“I’m gonna be at the game, cause, y’know, I’m, yeah,” He explains, “Your parents are gonna have to stay at home regardless.”

You stare at him blankly as it registers in your head that there’s nothing stopping you from going to Taehyung’s infamous house parties.

“You’re right,” You mumble, “Sorry, I must be tired.”

“When’d you sleep last night?”

“Yesterday?” You stare up at the ceiling while you try to remember the other night, “4… I think?”

Jungkook shakes his head at you, ashamed.

“What’d I say about sleeping late?” He wags a finger at you, “You’re gonna ruin yourself if you keep doing that.”

“Okay, thanks, mom,” You snicker.

He then changes the topic, now complaining about the very same paper that you stayed up late to work on. You added on to his ranting, speaking your own mind as well.

The conversation is stopped abruptly when you hear knocking. Jungkook and you turn from each other to see your parents standing at the doorway. Neither of you had even heard the garage opening, or your parents walking upstairs.  

They’ve got tired, but happy smiles on their faces, and it comforts you knowing that they’re starting to iron out whatever issues they're going through. Your mom waves at you two and you echo her movements.

“Ah, I gotta go, then.”

Jungkook swiftly gets up from the alcove, grabbing his jacket that was resting on your desk chair. He greets you goodbye and then does the same with your parents, your dad walking him to the door. When both of the boys leave, your mom joins you, replacing Jungkook’s spot. She smells of steak and has a faint scent of wine about her. The relaxed, blissful state she’s in tells you that she’s intoxicated right now.

“Glad you had a fun night out,” You say, a soft smile on your lips.

“I quite like Jungkook,” She seems to not have heard your words, “Don’t you?”

“He’s nice, yeah.”

“He reminds me of your dad.”

She’s definitely a lot more drunk than you thought she was.

“Let’s get you in bed, mom,” You chuckle, standing up and helping her, “I think that’s enough for today.”

When you take her to her room and she staggers over to sit in her bed, you say goodnight to her. She responds, and you know very well that she’s most likely going to fall asleep with her dress on. You decide that your dad could handle that.

After getting ready for bed and crawling under your covers, your mind starts to wander, fixated on the idea of Jungkook and your dad being similar.

You can’t find a single distinct comparison between the two of them, but then your mind travels to the topic of your parents when they were younger. When they weren’t dating and they just knew each other as neighbors. Were they nice to each other?

Was there ever a time where they hated each other?

In between the many questions traveling through your mind, you start to enter the deep limbo of being half asleep and half awake. This doesn’t stop your curiosity about your parents story, as you see the two of them in your dreams. A young version of your mom bickering with your dad.

Then, it suddenly flashes to you walking with Jungkook in the hallways of high school, talking and bickering like you usually do.

Despite being heavily sleep deprived, you actually have a good night’s rest for once.

It’s Friday, which meant one thing and one thing only. It’s game day.

And although you complain about how sore your muscles are after practice and how you hate staying after school for so long, but when you’re sitting on the track, listening to the shouts from the student section and watching the football get tossed back and forth between players, you can’t help but be excited for halftime. You even become immersed in the sport, intently watching the boys tackle their way through the field. Half of the time you’re not completely sure about what’s going on, but you definitely were having fun sitting with Hoseok and watching the football teams brawl for a simple leather ball.

You had to admit it. There really was something magical about football games.

It was the way the grass smelt of rain and sweat, the way you could hear nothing but excitement from the crowds of students in the student section, the way that everyone was donning the school’s signature colors of purple and gold. The energy tonight is explosive, and you relish in every single section of it.

Your teammates are focused on the game and on themselves, making sure they remember the routines you have been practicing for months. But you, on the other hand, have separated yourself from the group of girls standing on the track and talking to each other. Instead, your focus is stuck on Jungkook.

Watching him on the field is like magic.

You don’t mean to, but your eyes follow him as he rushes past the opposing team, pushing past everyone effortlessly. He knows exactly when to keep the ball clutched closely to his chest or when to throw it to his fellow teammate, and he defends himself against the opposition, turning his back against them in order to protect himself from their tackles. It’s all like clockwork, like Jungkook could predict the other team’s movements. Even though you’re far from him, you notice the way he scans the field, so much so that you can see the gears turning in his mind. He’s got a whole map of the field and the teams in his head, creating a strategy right on the fly. All to get a touchdown.

Jungkook may be the big-headed goofball who used to enjoy annoying you, but he was a completely different person on the field. He’s someone determined and clever, and he doesn’t show off or become cocky when he’s on the field. Instead, he looks out for his own teammates and becomes a real leader.

You see this when Kim Taehyung, one of the running backs, gets tackled and crashes straight onto the turf, his helmet thudding quite loudly. Before Jungkook grabs the ball in Taehyung’s hands, he gives a quick tap on the running back’s helmet as a simple way of telling him that he’s doing a good job. To tell him to not give up and to get back on his feet. It’s a barely visible gesture that no one in the crowd would notice. It’s basically insignificant to… anyone, really. But you feel your heart soften when you figure out what the gesture meant.

Then you sit up, slightly, because his eyes meet yours and suddenly all the air in your chest has decided to leave. The crease in his eyebrows disappears and he’s beaming at you.

What amazes you is that Jungkook still has the ball secure in his hands, shoving his way through the hordes of players like they’re nothing.

You wonder what it’d be like to see Jungkook running up close. It’s hard to see from this distance, but you can see how the sheen of sweat glosses his skin. There was no doubt that he was muscular and you knew that, because you saw him every single day, but tonight his body is even more defined. They flex as he moves, biceps bulging because he’s clutching onto the ball so tightly.

You’re unaware of the way your thoughts travel to Jungkook being sweaty and hot on the field. Somehow it makes you feel like you’re betraying everything you’ve stood for by thinking like this, but instead of creating an even greater inner conflict between yourself and your conscience, you give up and continue to spectate the game.

(If by the game, you mean Jungkook.)

It isn’t until you decide to give him a small wave that he stumbles. He passes the ball to Kim Seokjin, the receiver, and quickly gets up on his own feet before he can fall on the ground. The opposition’s focus is now moved onto Seokjin, and so is Jungkook’s.

Seokjin reaches the end of the field. He scores a touchdown, and the crowd goes wild. The roaring sounds like music to your ears and you stand up, cheering along with your friends to congratulate your team. You beam when you see Jungkook running alongside the receiver, genuine grins on the boys’ faces. You feel proud, but you’re not entirely sure about what.

“We’re gonna kill it soon, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, and you mirror him, a happy smile on your face as well. He’s also too focused on memorizing the steps in his head to notice that you’ve been drooling over your little sister’s babysitter.

“I mean, duh,” You dramatically flip your hair over your shoulder, making the both of you giggle.

People say that cheerleading is such an outdated sport, but you actually loved it with your entire heart. You’ve created many lasting friendships with the girls (and Hoseok, of course) on your team, and the cheer squad was the exact reason why you had a somewhat reputation at school. It was basically the only thing that kept you going during the 3 years of high school you’ve gone through, and you’re sure that it’ll be the only thing keeping you sane for the rest of your years at this hellhole of a school.

Well, that was a topic for another day.

Because before you can have another existential crisis about the fact that you’re already on your junior year of high school—you haven’t figured out exactly what you want to do with your life—and that time has really slipped you by, the timer on the big, chunky, outdated metal screen ticks down. A bold, orange “0:00” appears, signalling that it’s halftime. The football teams slow down and head back to their respective sides, getting ready to take a break while the cheerleading squad gets ready for action.

When all of the boys are seated at their benches, some of them guzzling water or simply just catching their breath, you, Hoseok, and the rest of the girls make your way onto the turf. The speaker announces your team, staticky voice emitting from the speakers and filling the air.

It’s go time.

You all huddle in a circle, hyping yourselves up with team chants. It’s invigorating, being with all of your friends, getting ready to present the routine you had been trying to perfect for the past few months. You step into the circle, and the girls lift you up, throwing you up in the air. As you’re thrown, you let the force move you, your body twirling around. You land gracefully back into their arms, and the crowd goes wild once again.

The cheerleaders grab their pom poms that are lying on the turf and they get into position. Everyone places their hands on their hips, smiles forming on all of your faces as the crowd simmers down to get ready for the show. A beat starts from the drum line, and you all wave your pom poms in the air, the tinsel-like material sounding almost like rain as they swivel in circular motions. You scan the crowds, looking at all the different students sitting together.

Then your eyes meet, and your face falters.

Park Jimin is sitting in the bleachers, beaming at the Sophomore on the cheer team. You’re rudely reminded of her sitting on his lap in the back of his car, and your eyes become hazy as you try to save face.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Hoseok whispers, “He’s not worth it.”

You nod, averting your focus from Jimin. This was the final football game of the season. You had to make the most of it, and you weren’t going to let him get in the way of it.

The cheer captain starts with a “5, 6, 7, 8,” and the rest of you follow her chants.

The routine starts with a high kick and a right punch up, followed with another high kick and then a strict order of arm positions along with a few more kicks that you all execute with style. Some of the girls move to the front, doing backflips to entertain the crowd. The flyers, bases, and spotters, get ready for extensions while the girls in the front keep the student section preoccupied.

Hoseok is assigned as one of your bases, and two other girls—a base and a back spotter—get into formation along with him. They lift you up carefully, steadying you right away as you're raised up. The other flyers are lifted up, too, and you sigh in relief knowing that everyone did their extensions easily. You flash bright smiles to the crowd and they all scream, cheering you on as well. Your combined shouts add even more energy to what was already an electric game.

The cheer is something cheesy about having more spirit than the other team, and the words are really cringy at points, but you don’t care. You’d shout them to the ends of the earth for all you cared. What mattered was the way the student section responded with almost double the enthusiasm. Kids are hollering, practically jumping out of their seats and yelling as they repeat the school’s signature lyrics. There’s nothing but pure excitement for the game, the football team, and the cheerleaders.

You’re lowered down for a few minutes by the bases only to be thrown up quickly. Keeping your stomach tight and your arms stiff, you fall back into the arms of the cheerleaders underneath you. It’s a perfect execution of a cradle, and you’re practically glowing with pride for your team. It’s obvious that the coaches would praise you all at the next practice. The crowd goes crazy for your team as well. Once you’re placed on the ground, it’s your turn to perform flips and high kicks, and you carry out the rest of the routine effortlessly.

Staring at the crowd, you take in how everyone is smiling at you and your team, impressed at the stunts you all pulled off in such a small time frame. Their eyes are shimmering with pride and you’re certain that their throats have gone raw from all their hoots and hollers. The night sky is painted black, but the atmosphere you’re in is far from dull. The crowds are colored purple and gold, matching your uniform and the football players’ uniforms. There are kids from different cliques, but they’re all sitting together and cheering, showing the solidarity a school could have.

You hold on to the moment for as long as you can, your chest heaving up and down as you pose confidently when the routine is done. Hoseok looks at you with immense pride and you do the same, both of you practically radiating out there on the field.

Eventually, halftime is over and you’re back to sitting on the track. You’re sweaty, but you don’t care. You know you did amazing and that was worth it.

A wave of uneasiness hits your chest when you see the sophomore rush over to her backpack to check her phone. She grins at her screen before running over to your coach, using some lame excuse so she can leave. After that, she rushes out, and you see Jimin following suit.

You plan to see what they’re doing, but Hoseok grabs your wrist, already knowing what you were going to do.

“Y/N,” His voice is stern, “I love you. Don’t.”

“But-“

“It’s not a good idea. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Some of your nerves fade away when Hoseok demands that you’ll get pictures with him, even if both of you are drenched in sweat. He reasons that it’s because you rarely have any pictures with him. But isn’t that the sign of true friendship? Not being able to have pictures because you’re either having too much fun together or the both of you look so ugly you can’t even bear to have a photo taken? You use that reasoning with Hoseok and he simply pinches your cheek, telling you that you’re insufferable and forcing one of your teammates to take your pictures.

When the game is almost done, the sophomore is nowhere to be seen.

You see your coach asking around the other girls, but they all respond with a shrug. Hoseok keeps you distracted by talking about the new friend group you’ve created with him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. Then, he starts to talk about Namjoon and the latest “date but not date” that they had last weekend. You realize you’ve never wanted to talk about Namjoon more than ever before.

While he’s gushing, you look at the photos you’ve taken with your best friend. A satisfied smile finds its way on your face when you see that they ended up a million times better than you thought it would. Hoseok also admires them while you swipe through the many new pictures in your camera roll.

“Told you it’d end up good.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You decide that you’d post your favorite ones, since you haven’t put anything new on your Instagram.

You tap on the app, planning to create a draft to post tomorrow. To your surprise, though, a new post from Jimin appears on your timeline. It’s a picture of the girl in his car. She has a bright smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a rosy pink.

Under the picture there’s a blue heart.

You’re reminded of all of the posts he had of you that had the exact same caption. You frown. Blue was your favorite color.

You go to his page, and all of your photos from before are gone. You’re frozen in your spot. Your mouth feels incredibly dry and a hard, rough lump forms in your throat. Your eyes start to sting, and the pain you thought you’ve forgotten about has come back twice as strong.

Hoseok notices this and you hand him his phone.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.”

“I’m gonna,” You wipe your eyes and fan away the moisture so you don’t mess up your mascara, “I’m gonna go home after this.”

“Do whatever you need to,” He says, patting your head so you can rest your head on his shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You text your parents, asking them to drive you home.

The game is slow, dull, and boring, but after such an excruciatingly long wait, it finally ends. Once it’s over, you’re immediately walking out and making your way to your parents car. You ignore all of the students around you, pushing your way through them.

You also ignore Jungkook, who’s been running after you right when the game ends but loses you in the crowd.

When you come home, the car ride with your mom consisting of you breaking down and your mom comforting you, your mom quickly takes you to the bathroom, drawing a warm bath for you. She closes the door so neither Clementine or your dad can see the state you’re in, and she drops in a few drops of lavender into the steamy water. You hastily take off your uniform and your makeup, wanting nothing more than to get in the tub.

Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself to feel the warm water soaking your skin. The oil she added to the bath creates a pleasant scent to the steam, and your lips curve upward when you get a whiff of it. You rest your head against the edge of the porcelain surface, eyes getting hazy as the scent of lavender drowns out your senses. Your mother puts her hands through your hair, massaging your head with shampoo.

If your mother was being this gentle, this nice to you, then this was really serious.

When she plants a loving kiss on your forehead, humming sweetly, you feel your lip quiver. You were tired. This was your breaking point. You couldn’t take it anymore. Warbled, shrill sobs escape from your lips and you’ve lost all notions of self control. Your mom holds you close to her, indifferent to the soap suds and water soaking her shirt.

“Sometimes change is necessary for growth,” She says as you cry everything out.

“It hurts,” Your words come in between gasps.

“I know, darling, I promise you that you’ll find someone who truly deserves your love.”

“...Really?”

“Yes, and, you know, I already know one person who deserves it.”

“Who?”

“You.”

You hang onto every word she says, hoping that they’re actually true.

[November 16, 9:35 PM] Jungkook Hey, is everything okay? I tried talking to you after the game but I couldn’t find you Why is that? You don’t have to tell me, just wanted to know if you were okay I’ll tell Joon you say hi later tonight. He was really excited to hang out with you Sorry, I must be spamming your phone Anyways, just wanna say you did great tonight

Read at: 10:01 PM

[November 19, 4:02] Jungkook You didn’t show up to school today I think this is actually the first time you’ve skipped school Let me know if you need the homework or anything Read at: 4:10

You tap out of the conversation and put your phone face down on your nightstand. Tossing around in the bed, the sheets are uncomfortably hot around your sweaty skin. Your room is humid, since you’ve been doing nothing but lay in your bed for the past 3 days. Your eyelids slowly droop downward while you attempt to remove yourself from the throbbing pain in your head.

A slow, soft creak emits from your door. You open your eyes to see your sister, holding a tray with a cup of water and a grilled cheese sandwich. She still has her school clothes on.

“We ran out of soup,” She says, walking over to you.

You give her a weak smile, shifting over so she can sit next to you.

“Thank you, Clem.”

She sits up straight, expectantly watching you eat. She waits for your reaction, and your lips curve up naturally while you chew, she lets out the breath she’s unconsciously been holding in.

“Are you… doing okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” You nod, and then you roll up the sleeve of your hoodie to flex your bare arm, “Your sister’s strong.”

Clementine giggles and she leans back, resting her head on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your skin, but you don’t care. The grilled cheese in your mouth tastes absolutely amazing—most likely because you haven’t eaten anything since a bowl of soup yesterday.

“I never…” She starts, but then stops. You reassure her that she can tell you whatever she wants, and with a deep breath, she continues, “I never really… liked him.”

“Hm?”

“Jimin. I never liked him,” Her words lower into a nervous whisper. You wonder how long she’s been holding it in. She looks up at you once more, “Sometimes I could hear when you guys talked on the phone.”

Your initial response is to be angry, but there’s no point to. It wasn’t her fault that your rooms were so close to each other. Clementine scoots down so that she can rest her head on your chest, and you wrap your arms around her.

“He was kinda mean,” She sighs, “And I didn’t like how he talked to you.”

You nod. There was a truth in her words. You imagine what she thought hearing you cry behind a closed door, hearing you freak out because Jimin would end the call on you randomly when you mentioned Hoseok. Thinking back on it, Jimin was quite possessive when the two of you were together. Quite ironic.

“He’s like Gaston.”

“Gaston?”

“Yeah, full of himself,” She spits bitterly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your sister speak negatively towards someone, “Only likes you ‘cause you’re pretty. Gets mad if you don’t give him something when he’s nice to you.”

Despite her dulled down description of Jimin, her words are a rude awakening for you. It’s as if you were roughly picked up and dropped into a cold, freezing bath, the frigid water creating an abrupt awareness of the reality of your past relationship. The reality was that Jimin was terrible to you, and no matter how many times you tried to label it nicely, tried to dumb it down so you yourself could swallow it easily, the truth is that whatever the two of you had wasn’t love.

It hits you that you really don’t know anything about love.

“You deserve someone better than Jimin.”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, but Clementine cranes her neck and looks at you with burning eyes.

“No, I mean it,” She huffs, “He was terrible-“

“I know, I know, Clem,” You give her a light, reassuring smile, “But we’ll figure that out later, ‘kay? Right now it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah,” She relaxes, resting on you again, “I’d like that.”

You pinch her cheek before speaking again.

“So, you wanna tell me more about the new guy?”

She hides herself in your embrace instantly. Her new crush, Lucas, seemed quite nice from what she tells you.

The rest of your day is spent with Clementine over board games, movies, and cookies, and from how she eagerly spills out everything to you, you realize just how much she’s held from you, afraid to bother you since you “had a lot on her plate”. You secretly promise her that you’d be there for her more, that you’d forever be a shoulder to cry on for her from now on.

It’s almost funny, how a breakup forced you into having a better relationship with your sister.

When the night falls and you’re in Clementine’s room with her, ready to say goodnight, she musters enough courage to say something else to you.

“I like Jungkook.”

“I know, so does everyone,” You reply, suddenly remembering the multiple text messages from him that you’ve ignored.

Would he be upset with you? You decide that you’ll deal with that later.

“I like the way he looks at you.”

“What do you mean?” You questioningly state, taking the covers and putting it over her body. Even though she’s already 12, you don’t think you’ll ever stop tucking her in. She doesn’t object, either, eagerly accepting your advances and pulling the covers over so only her head pops out.

“He kinda,” She yawns, “He looks at you different.”

“Different?” You chuckle lightly, reaching out to turn off her lamp.

“Yeah,” She slowly closes her eyes, “Like how Dad looks at Mom.”

You freeze in place at her words, but then you quickly shake it off. She was most likely dreaming.

“You must be tired, Clem,” You mumble, “You should sleep.”

“Yeah, I should.”

You leave Clementine so she can sleep peacefully. With the absence of her around you comes the presence of an underlying issue that you never noticed was in your life.

When did Jungkook ever come into the equation?

Returning to your habit of tossing and turning around uncomfortably in your own bed, your mind tackles the notion of what your true feelings are for Jungkook.

Was he a bad person? Certainly not, from what you’ve learned. Were you guys friends? Yes, you were, obviously, from all the conversations you’ve had at your window.

Staring at said window, you imagine Jungkook sitting there, with his wide grin and his tousled, chestnut hair. You can almost smell the scent of his laundry detergent on your nose. His laugh rings in your ears, soft, breathy chuckles sounding almost like a melody to you. You think of all the times he’s walked you to your classes, dropping you off to your room before rushing on over to his own class that was on the other side of the building. He’s never told you, but you know that he’s always late to class because of you. This revealed itself because you’d see Jungkook hastily walking over to the attendance office to get tardy slips for his teacher.

You chuckle at the thought. It never registered in his head that the office was in the hallway of your 6th hour, so whenever he gets a slip you’ll see him pass by your doorway.

An image of Jungkook with Clementine flashes in your mind when you close your eyes. You see him dancing goofily with her to some Spanish song you’re not familiar with, all so that Clementine will be comfortable dancing around him. You take in how he smiles at her, how he looks at her so happily, and how he’s so eager to embarrass himself because he just likes seeing her laugh.

Then, when you close your eyes, you see Jungkook looking at you. His eyes are soft, and there’s something there you can’t really describe. It makes you feel safe, makes you feel like you can put your guard down around him. You notice that whenever your eyes meet his, there’s a bright, warm smile on his face.

A light, fluttery feeling hits your chest, but it’s far too faint for it to be significant, you think. You brush it off as something trivial. Jungkook was your friend, and that was that.

He was nothing more and nothing less, thank you very much.

[November 20, 12:30 AM] Y/N sorry for not texting back haven’t been feeling well i’ll be back tmrw, tho you got time to talk after school tmrw? we could get burgers or something [November 20, 12:31 AM] Jungkook Of course, yeah It’s no worries btw, Y/N Just wanna know you’re okay. I’m driving you I’m guessing? Y/N yeah there’s no one else who will, lol

Going back to school is a little rough, and although you only missed one day, you were already toppled with absent work and new lessons that you had to teach yourself.

But every worry seemed to disappear when you finally got to the diner with Jungkook. During this, you explain everything to him, stuffing your mouth with the fries that you loved so much. Jungkook listens to every single word you say, gnawing down on his bowl of mac n’ cheese.

“That’s so shitty of him.”

You can sense the anger in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” You shrug, pulling your strawberry smoothie close to you so you can take a sip, “Not my place anymore.”

Jungkook redacts what he was about to say, only nodding as to make sure he doesn’t speak over you.

“Sorry about not responding,” You mumble, and he shakes his head profusely.

“No, no, I get it,” He smiles fondly at you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m here for you, okay?”

It amazes you how understanding he can be. Seems like just yesterday he was chewing gum obnoxiously in your ears, blowing bubbles and popping them in hopes that the sound would destroy your eardrums.

Jungkook fills you in on what you had missed yesterday, already offering to help you if you need any help. The two of you spend the time at the diner talking about anything and everything, and things somewhat feel normal for once.

You wish that everything could stay just like this in the diner, where Jungkook is sitting in front of you, cracking lame jokes left and right and you’re laughing so hard that you can’t even be bothered to breathe anymore.

A few weeks pass, and you’ve slowly started to adjust to the “new normal” of your life. But this was only because you had such amazing friends to help you out whenever you saw Jimin with his new girlfriend. Hoseok has been there for you and always will be, Jungkook constantly has new jokes up his sleeve that he’s constantly waiting to use, and even though you’re not that close with Namjoon just yet, you’ve learned just how kindhearted he is.

This is because when you told him the whole story of you and Jimin, he started sending you pretty flowers every single day. Those were Namjoon’s “cheer up” texts that gave you a soft comfort when you received them.

Slowly but surely, your regular diner dates with Hoseok have turned into full on hangouts with the other two boys. Jungkook would drive you, while Namjoon would take Hoseok. Usually, though, your hangouts would consist of you and Jungkook losing your appetites over how sweet Namjoon and Hoseok are to each other. There wasn’t one time where Jungkook wouldn’t roll his eyes to you when Namjoon would compliment Hoseok’s hair, and you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve lost it over Hoseok pinching Namjoon’s cheek whenever he teases him.

It’s still a complete shocker to the both of you that they’re only friends.

But you honestly wouldn’t change your new friend group for the world. Albeit sort of dysfunctional and unconventional, you all worked together nicely.

Things slowly came together piece by piece, and you felt that maybe your life would continue on peacefully, just how you wanted it to.

However, today is different.

After school, Hoseok asks you if the two of you can hang out one on one, just like before, and of course you agree, because you had to admit that you did miss spending time with just him. So you expect it to be a fun filled Friday afternoon with Hoseok. Maybe you’d hear him rant about Namjoon being clueless for the umpteenth time without ever acknowledging how oblivious he is himself.

What you expect, however, is very different from your reality, because when Hoseok and you walk out of the school building and into the parking lot, you’re met with a pretty sizable crowd. There’s kids, mostly boys, pointing their cameras and you hear multiple shouts and cheers from the crowds.

You’re about to stealthily dodge the crowd and head over to Hoseok’s car, but then a gap forms in between a few students and your jaw hits the ground.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, his familiar voice confirming your suspicions.

The other boys spur him on, yelling out incoherent words that you can’t decipher. You grab Hoseok by the wrist and pull him over to the crowd.

Getting a closer look at the scene, you and Hoseok give each other a scared, concerned glance. Jungkook has Jimin on the pavement, landing multiple brutal punches across his face. Jimin, whose eyes have turned hazy, has blood coming out of his nose, and if Jungkook lands one last punch, Jimin is bound to have a broken nose (if he already didn’t).

It’s a good thing, though, that the principal suddenly appears, pushing past everyone and splitting the two boys up. Jungkook and Jimin are both sitting up now, tattered and beaten down. Jungkook wipes away the blood on his mouth, while Jimin tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down heavily. His face is screwed up in agony and you wince upon seeing the newly formed black eye that he’s sporting.

Jungkook doesn’t look any better either. He’s got bruises all over him, and a handful of deep cuts and scrapes from falling on the ground. He has blood on his sweatshirt, and you can’t tell if it’s his or Jimin’s.

The crowd disperses, students not wanting to get involved with the authorities. You and Hoseok stay, however, because Namjoon appears out of nowhere, his arms crossed and a tired look on his face while he assesses the damage. The principal pulls them away by their collars in order to create distance from the three of you standing there. Once there’s a reasonable space between all of you, he begins to mouth them off.

“He made jokes about it but I never thought it’d happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples, “I got the principle once I saw what was going on. I was too late.”

“What’s gonna happen?” You ask, voice coming out in a weak whisper.

“They’ll both be expelled for a little bit,” Namjoon strokes his chin.

“Expelled?” Hoseok gasps in disbelief, “Don’t you mean suspended?” 

“The fight’s on school grounds, and they were both deliberately violent,” Namjoon explains, “If Jungkook had only made a threat to do it, then he’d be suspended. Expulsions last much longer than suspensions, based on what the principal will think is a fit punishment for the kids.”

Leave it to Kim Namjoon to know the school’s rulebook like the back of his hand.

“What’ll happen with sports?”

“Now that, I’m also not entirely sure,” Namjoon answers, and you can see the gears turning in his head, “Let’s hope the coaches will even be willing to talk to them.”

Jungkook makes eye contact with you and although he’s tired, he seems to have sobered up. You stare at him with shocked, disappointed eyes, and he looks down at his feet, like a dog who just got scolded by his owner. He rubs his nose, taking a deep breath and choosing to just listen to what the principal has to say.

What could have possibly compelled Jungkook to beat Jimin into a pulp?

The next night you see Jungkook at your door, the bruises and cuts on his skin somewhat faint, but still apparent.

“Um, hi,” His eyes bounce around from you then to the ground, “Listen, Y/N, I-“

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss at him, coming out of the house and closing the door behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t you realize what you did yesterday?” You say, “Because of that you got fucking expelled!”

“That’s what I was here to talk about,” He explains.

“There was literally no reason for you to do that, Kook.”

“Y/N, if you were there, you’d understand.”

“No, Jungkook, no,” You shake your head, “I get it, Jimin’s an asshole. That doesn’t mean you need to beat him up for it!”

“Y/N,” He sighs, visibly irritated, “If you would just let me tell you why-“

“There’s no point, Jungkook!” You throw your hands up in the air while you yell at him, “You’re expelled! Do you even know if you can play football anymore?”

He bites his tongue, giving you a perfect answer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N,” He grabs your wrists, forcing you to look at him, “If you had just heard the things he said about you, you’d get it. Please, I just wanted to talk to you and apologize. Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to.”

He’s pitiful before you and you feel your anger rise.

“Y/N, he said such shitty things about you.”

“I don’t give a shit!” You retort, pulling away from him,  “I don’t need you beating up people for me, Jungkook. Do you really think I’m that weak?”

His eyes widen and he’s at a loss for words.

“No, Y/N, I never said that,” He reasons, “I just didn’t want him to talk about you like that anymore. You guys aren’t even together anymore. I was fed up.”

“Don’t you think there’s other ways you could handle that? Maybe you could, I don’t know, ignore it?”

“Y/N, please,” He pleads, exasperated, “I know this sounds stupid, but I really couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry, I just-“

“Do you really think I’m that helpless?” You scoff, “That I can’t handle when someone speaks of me badly? That you have to do everything for me?”

“No-“

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“I know,” He mumbles, “I couldn’t control my anger.”

“Yeah, that’s apparent,” You deadpan, crossing your arms, “I don’t need you to fight my fights for me, Jungkook. That’s not how it works.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” You spit, “If you had known that, then you wouldn’t have done anything.”

It’s an awkward position to be in, fighting with Jungkook at your front porch in the middle of a cold, December night, but you’re too heated to care. You ignore how you can see your breath come out in a light fog whenever you speak.

There’s a thin covering of snow everywhere, and you’re glad that you consistently wear a hoodie and sweatpants as pajamas in both summer and winter. Some snowflakes are resting on Jungkook’s head, leaving delicate white, sparkling dots in his hair. Matched with his red nose and red ears, you’d almost say he was adorable if you weren’t cussing him out right now.

“Why would you even think that was okay? Why would you do that?”

“Y/N… I…” He sputters out, “I just…”

“You just what? You think I’m so weak that I can’t handle my own problems?” You roll your eyes, “You’re unbelievable, Jungkook. You really think that I’m that weak?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You don’t get it do you?” He scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I did it because I couldn’t stand to hear him talking shit about you.”

“Why couldn’t you? It’s not your issue. It’s mine, and quite frankly-“

“It’s because I’m in love with you, Y/N!” He yells out, then coughs once his confession registers in his head, “I couldn’t… I didn’t want to hear him anymore.”

HIs words make your breath catch in your throat. Your heart stops, and Jungkook stares up at you nervously. You step away from, shaking your head profusely.

“No, you’re not,” You breathe out, “You’re really not.”

“I know it’s super wrong to say this now, I just,” He scratches the nape of his neck, “I guess I felt that I needed to tell you.”

“You barely even know me,” You say, and you can’t explain why tears well up in your eyes. You wipe them away, “Go home, Jungkook. It’s late.”

You’re about to go back into the house but Jungkook’s words make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I know that you’re ass at drawing,” He prompts, “You’re also shit at singing, but you do both anyways, because you think it’s fun.”

“Kook-“

“You say that you don’t do much in your freetime, but I know that you spend all of your time hanging out with Tina whenever you can, because you care about her that much,” He states, “I also know that you secretly really like Monopoly, even though you’re fuckin’ clueless on how to play it. Most of the time you go bankrupt, but even then you’re happy playing that. You’re the only person I know who’s like that.”

You’re speechless as Jungkook begins to list off specific details about you that even you don’t know.

“You always try to twirl your pencil in class, but every single time you get embarrassed when you drop it on your desk and everyone looks at you.”

“Jungkook, don’t do this,” You turn around, “Listen, you don’t know what it’d be like to be with me. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Who says that?”

“Me,” You say, “I’m still confused about everything. It’d be bad for both you and me. And plus, what if I’m not over Jimin? You wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t like being with me.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m set, Y/N,” Jungkook declares, “From the moment I really got to know you, I figured that I wanted you for the rest of my life. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need me to.”

“There’s no way you can be so sure.”

“I can feel it, Y/N,” His words are desperate as he tries to reason with you, “It’s different with you. I’m different when I’m with you. I’m happy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do know, Y/N!” He shouts, “I’ve spent so many nights trying to figure out why the fuck I think about you so much until I eventually realized it. I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure about my own feelings.”

“You’re wrong, Jungkook.”

“Can you stop?” He snaps, “Stop belittling my feelings. Stop acting like you know shit about love, because you don’t. Your only relationship was with an asshole who cheated on you and talks shit about you even though he’s with another girl.”

Jungkook’s right. He’s absolutely right. You’re reflected on it, too. But you can’t help but become enraged when the truth comes out of his mouth.

“I don’t know shit about love?” You laugh bitterly, “Yeah, I don’t. And Jimin was an asshole. But you don’t know anything about love either.”

“At least I know what I deserve and what you deserve,” He says, “If you could just give me a chance to show you-“

“Show me what love is?” You interrupt, “Jungkook, how can you? Your own brother doesn’t even love you!”

You struck a chord, and you see that right when the words come out of your mouth. It’s only during then that you realize that using facts in your arguments aren’t always the best thing. Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, his mouth ajar.

“I.. Jungkook, I’m really sorry. Stuff like that isn’t your fault,” You open the door and step inside, “I think that just shows we’re not good together. You should go home. It’s late. Goodnight, Jungkook.”

After that night and once Jungkook is done with his (mercifully given) 10 day expulsion, he finds a way to avoid you at all costs at school, going as far as to even switch seats with someone in the one class you have together. Your supposed “long lasting” friend group had ultimately split up, you and Jungkook giving each other the cold shoulder while Hoseok and Namjoon tried to find a good balance of seeing each other and you guys at the same time.

Jungkook no longer drives you home, and there’s now an empty seat at the dinner table that looms heavily on your conscience. Clementine hasn’t said anything, reassuring you that she’s happy just being with you, but you know that she’s having a hard time dealing with the situation as well.

His name is omitted in your house, and no one in your family asks about him.

Well, until now.

Because when your mom sits with you on your bed, asking what really happened, you cry once more in her arms, the guilt finally pushing you past your breaking point again. You tell her everything, and she holds you close, hushing you while you cry.

“Why were you so upset with him?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” You say as you think about it.

“Do you still have feelings for Jimin?”

You reevaluate your sentiments toward Jimin, and what used to be feelings of love and pain have simply withered away into disgust.

“No…? I don’t think so.”

“So what was the real reason?”

“I guess… I guess it’s because he was expelled and that means he could be off the team. He shouldn’t be risking that for me,” The words come out of your mouth almost involuntarily, as if they’ve been waiting to reveal themselves to you, “And the fact that he says that he’s in love with me when he hardly knows me… It was such a stupid fight and I feel terrible.”

You hide your face in your hands, thinking about what you’ve said to the poor boy.

“Are you in love with him?”

Something stirs in your heart, and it scares you.

“I can’t tell anymore.”

“Well, only you know what’s best for you, and you’ll figure it out. We’ll be here every step of the way,” Your mom assures you, “Can I just say one thing, though?”

You nod.

“When two people argue over something that’s considered stupid or trivial,” She starts, “That usually means they actually care about each other the most.”

[December 19, 8:09] Clem Y/N Can you come pick me up from Charlotte’s pls? I wanna go home Y/N why? is everything ok? Clem Please just pick me up I wanna go home I don’t like birthday parties anymore

“Hey, mom,” You rush over to her, showing her your phone. In an instant, you’re driving over to Clementine’s friend’s house. Once you reach the place, you knock on the door, and upon meeting the parents, you say that you need to pick up Clementine for an “urgent reason”.

It isn’t until she closes the car door and your mom starts driving that she breaks down in tears.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately, and once she regains her composure she responds.

“They made me,” She gasps, “They made me tell Lucas that I like him. H-He made fun of me and rejected me in front of everyone.”

You and your mom look at each other with sad, knowing eyes.

Looks like there’d be a warm bath and a lot of tough conversations for Clementine in the near future.

While you mope around and recharge your mental battery during heartbreak, it turns out that Clementine does the exact opposite. She overworks herself in order to distract herself from the fact that she’s devastated.

You take note of this when you come downstairs and you’re hit with the smell of chocolate chip cookies for the sixth time this week. They’re your favorite, but if Clementine bakes any more, you’re bound to get sick of them.

You ignore that and grab a cookie anyway, shoving it into your mouth with delight.

“Do you like it?” Clementine asks, nervous. You nod, and she beams at you.

For something as simple as chocolate chip cookies, Clementine sure does put a lot of pressure on herself to make them perfect.

“Seok’s coming over later tonight,” You attempt to make conversation while she’s already looking through her phone for a new recipe to try.

“Ah, really? That’s great! I miss him,” She smiles, “I actually, um, I have plans today too.”

“Really? With who?”

“Mom already knows,” She says rather quickly, “I’m going out with a friend to dinner.”

Despite your curiosity gnawing away at you, urging you to ask her who this friend is, you stay quiet. This was something she needed, and if your mom was okay with it, then things should be fine.

Leaving the kitchen, you go upstairs to take a nice, long shower.

“Y/N?” You hear Clementine’s muffled voice behind your door.

“It’s open.”

She steps in, and you stare at her in awe. She’s wearing a light blue, off-the-shoulder dress and from the looks of it, your mom has done her makeup beautifully. Her hair is curled, waves gently framing her face. She fidgets with the silver clutch purse in her hands shyly, while she feels your gaze on her.

“Do I, um,” She gulps, “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful.”

She gets even shier, sporting a soft smile on her face. While she looks amazing, she still is unsure of herself, standing awkwardly as she tries to get used to wearing such nice clothes. You feel a touch of pain that comes along with the swell of pride in your chest when you see how beautiful your sister is. It’s such a shame, seeing how fast time flies.

“Do you know which shoes would look good with this?” She asks, “I don’t think my sneakers aren’t really ideal.”

“Oh, definitely not,” You tease, getting up from your bed, “We’re almost the same shoe size, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, you can borrow my flats then,” The two of you make your way to the shoe closet, and you crouch down to sort through the piles of dress shoes, “Unless you want heels?”

“Oh, no thank you,” She spews out, and you laugh. Even under all the makeup and fancy dresses you could put Clementine in, you could never change who she really is.

You grab a pair of light beige ballet flats. They’re rounded at the tip and have a black section at the too. There’s a thin, dainty elastic bow on both of them, and when Clementine sees them, she falls in love. Of course, you knew right away that she’d like them. There was no use in having her try on other flats.

“Thank you so much, Y/N!”

“Anytime.”

There’s a bright smile on both of your faces, and your conversation is interrupted when Clementine’s phone ring.

“Oh, I’ve gotta go,” She says, leaning in to press a kiss in your cheek, “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, Clem. Be safe.”

“I will!”

And with that, she’s out of the door and you’re left by yourself on this frigid Friday evening. You sigh, slouching down into the couch and turning on the TV. You can’t seem to remember a day in your life where you’ve been by yourself like this, both your parents and Clementine off to dinner at some fancy places you don’t know.

For the hundredth time this evening, you check the time.

 7:23. 

Hoseok would be here any minute, but right now you’re left to your own device.

It’s during then where your thoughts start to travel to the mess of your own life.

You mindlessly watch the cartoons that are playing on your screen while you reflect on your past mistakes. Jungkook continues to flash into your mind and you can’t help but wince every 2 or 3 minutes when you’re rudely reminded of your harsh words towards him. You cover your face in your hands, regretting every single moment of your life up till now. There was nothing that was going to bring back your friendship with Jungkook.

Why did you care so much? You shake your head as you try to sort out the discordant jumble of your emotions. There was no reason to care. You had only really gotten to know Jungkook this year. If someone was able to develop feelings for you that quickly, then certainly they weren’t real. Maybe Jungkook is in love with the idea of you. Or he’s incredibly bored and mistakes feelings of friendship for being in love. That’s usually how things play out.

So why were you bothered so much?

Why did you keep checking your phone to see if he would ever text you? Even now you’re tapping into your conversation with him, waiting to see if he’d type something out. Without thinking, you type a simple “I’m sorry” out. The words glare back at you, asking you why the fuck you haven’t sent them to him yet. You let out a tired sigh and delete them.

Although it’s childish, your mind’s first defense is to tarnish your version of Jungkook’s image. Jeon Jungkook was, in his core, a conceited, good-for-nothing quarterback who cared about no one else except for himself.

You groan, hitting yourself. Every single word in that statement isn’t true.

“What the fuck,” You whine to nobody in particular, curling up into a ball.

Why did Jungkook have to force his way into your life like that? Jungkook with his stupidly soft brown hair and his annoyingly pretty eyes. With his kind smile and laugh that you’d love to record and just hear on repeat for the rest of your days. Jeon Jungkook, the person you’d never expect to be your new best friend, but here he was, just popping up out of nowhere and disappearing without a trace. You curse his name over and over again. Why couldn’t you get his face out of your mind?

His infuriatingly attractive face and his built frame that always makes an appearance, no matter how loose his clothing is. It’s a whole repeat of the other night, where all your senses, all your thoughts, are nothing but him.

You hear his laughter. How it’s so sweet, so soft. You see the way his eyes crinkle up into pretty little crescent moons, how his toothy grin makes yet another appearance into your mind. How his eyes look so endearingly at you, like you could do no wrong in his sight. You think about reaching out to him. Maybe for a hug? You’re not so sure. All you can think about now, though, is how warm his embrace probably is. He’s always gentle with Clementine. There’s no doubt that he’s gentle and kind towards you now, too.

How would he look, laying next to you in bed? How would he look in the morning? Would he have even messier hair? Sleepy eyes? A lazy smile across his lips? Would he—

The doorbell rings, literally saving you from the grave you’re digging yourself. It wakes you up from your thoughts, making you realize that you shouldn’t be thinking of a friend like this.

You run over to the door, and when it’s open, you’re suddenly engulfed in Hoseok’s arms. You almost topple over, Hoseok being quite taller than you and stronger. He’s got a giddy grin on his face, and it looks like he’s just received the best news of his life. You have a confused, although happy smile on your face as well.

“Y/N, I’ve got so much to tell you!”

“Let me go make some popcorn,” You say, excited to hear the good news, “You got the movies, right?”

Hoseok takes off his backpack and pulls out three DVD cases.

“Obviously.”

They’re all cheesy rom-coms that are supposedly targeted towards teenagers, but are made by adults that apparently haven’t talked to a teenager in their life, despite having been one a few years earlier. That makes the movies all the better, though, because Hoseok and you like to take your time to nitpick all of the flaws in every single one. It’s a nice pastime with your best friend.

“Well, let’s get to it then!”

For the first time in forever, you can’t wait to torture yourself by watching shitty chick flicks with Hoseok.

“He did what?” 

“He kissed me, Y/N! He kissed me!” Hoseok squeals, and he almost drops the bowl of popcorn on his lap. 

The terrible movie is long forgotten.

“In the rain?” You ask, equally as excited, “Holy shit, Hobs, that’s like a movie!”

“I know,” He can’t wipe the grin off his face, “I was so mad at him before, ‘cause like, he just wouldn’t do anything! But then he kissed me out of nowhere!”

He‘s head over heels, dramatically leaning into the couch while pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, an over exaggerated performance of a faint.

“I feel like I’ve been struck by Cupid!”

“I think you’ve been like that a long time ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Just sayin’.”

Hoseok angrily grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth, the popcorn squeaking and crunching between his teeth.

“I hate that you’re always right.”

“Well, that’s not so true anymore…”

Your head hangs low, your vision on the screen now on your own bowl of popcorn. You grab a handful for yourself, using the action of chomping as a way to preoccupy yourself from the guilt.

“Hey, listen,” Hoseok wraps an arm around you and you rest on him, “It was in the heat of the moment.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right there,” He chuckles, “But, hey, no one’s perfect. Jungkook was out of line. So were you. Stuff like that happens.”

“Why do I care so much?” You sigh, dejected.

“Because you like him,” He hums, almost nonchalantly.

“W-What?”

“You like Jungkook, Y/N.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok lifts you off of him so he can grab you by the shoulders.

“...Do you seriously not know?” His brows furrow, and you stare at him blankly.

“I think you might be wrong there, bud,” You give him a questioning look.

“Y/N, I love you. You’re an idiot.”

He stands up, and you’re still dumbfounded at his words. Hoseok reaches over to the coffee table and takes your phone. He clicks it on, the brightness causing you to squint. You take a mental note to stop having the brightness setting so high all the time. Once your eyes adjust to the lighting, you’re met with an image of Jungkook standing next to you in the living room, his arm around you while the both of you smile at the camera.

He’s got a tiara on and you have a fairy wand and a scratchy tutu wrapped around your waist, the tight elastic causing your t-shirt to bunch up in thick wrinkles. You involuntarily giggle to yourself when you see the picture. After playing a few board games with Clementine one night, she wanted to go into the attic and dress the two of you up in her old Halloween costumes. Of course, wanting to entertain her, the both of you granted her wishes.

And as if on cue, the smile from ear to ear that you’re sporting has dawned the realization on you.

“We’re just friends…”

“Y/N. I know you. You’ve been a bitch before. Without remorse,” Hoseok sighs, shaking his head.

“Hey!”

“All I’m saying is,” He puts his hands up in surrender, “Y/N, you know how good you are in arguments when you’re angry. You almost never feel bad when you use your words.”

“Okay, I’m not that bad-“

“Y/N,” He asserts, “Remember last year when you cussed that one Freshman out ‘cause he threw a french fry at me?”

“Yeah…”

“You went out of your way to sit down next to him and then proceed to tell him that if he disappeared, no one would notice.”

“I said that?” Your voice has only now become a pathetic little squeak.

“Yes, yes, you did,” He waves his hand after he speaks, “We’re getting off topic. What I’m telling you right now is that you’re blunt. Incredibly blunt. Like, holy shit, how can you say that? type of blunt.”

“I got that, but-“

“Not done,” He shoves the phone in your face even more, as to prove a point, “As we’ve seen before, you forget half of the crap you say. You never feel bad.”

You huff, not sure if you want to hear what Hoseok’s about to say next.

“Look at yourself right now. You’ve been moping over one sentence you’ve said to one boy for how long?” He wags the phone around, further emphasizing the said point, “And now you see one picture of him and you’re giggling like a dumbass.”

You sink back into the couch, the weight of everything hitting you way too strongly, too quickly.

“Well, let’s just say I did like him-“

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Just, just hear me out, okay?” You beg, and Hoseok tosses your phone on the table before slumping down on the couch, “So let’s say I did like him. Don’t you think I would’ve known by now?”

“Holy- Jungkook was right when he said you didn’t know shit,” Hoseok’s so close to losing it and killing you, “Have you seen the way you look at him?”

“No?”

“You’re insufferable,” Hoseok groans, whipping out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. He taps on a video and he shows it to you.

On his screen, you’re sitting in the front passenger seat while Jungkook drives, both of you screaming out the songs on the radio from the top of your lungs. It was some cheesy song both of you hated but knew all of the lyrics to. You examine yourself in the video. When you look at Jungkook, there’s—yet again—another bright smile on your face, and there seems to be a twinkle in your eye. You cringe at yourself, hearing your voice and seeing just how wide your smile is, which causes your cheeks to puff up unflatteringly.

A hand reaches to your face when you notice how chubby it is.

“Where and how did you take that?”

“Remember when Joonie’s car broke down and we had to ride with you losers?”

“Oh.”

You think about that day. It was oddly suspicious as to how quiet they were in the car. Usually, Hoseok would’ve been nervously mouthing Namjoon’s ear off by then.

“Need I say more?”

You almost feel betrayed. Betrayed by how blind you’ve been, how stupid you’ve been.

“Well, it’s a lost cause,” You lament, “I fucked everything up. He probably doesn’t care about me anymore.”

“Not exactly.”

Hoseok swipes out of his camera roll and goes into Snapchat. He slides over to the Stories section and taps on one of the small circles. You’re met with yet another truth revealing image.

Took this kiddo out since some meanie broke her heart ;(

The translucent black bar almost laughs while Clementine smiles back at you—or, the camera, at least. She’s wearing the light blue dress from before and her hair has slightly gone flat, but is still quite wavy. There’s a huge plate of spaghetti before her, and she’s holding onto her fork with anticipation.

“If he didn’t care, why would he take the time to take Tina out tonight? He could’ve ignored her reaching out to him.”

While he is extremely right, you’re more focused on the situation itself.

“Why didn’t she tell me it was him taking her to dinner?”

Yet another betrayal tonight.

“I dunno, maybe it’s ‘cause you probably would use those pretty little words of yours towards her.”

“Am I really that scary?”

“Not all of the time,” He says, “But that’s ‘cause Jungkook makes you less high strung.”

“Hey, I’d watch what you’re saying right now-“

Hoseok wraps his arms around you, and he lets out a shaky, forced laugh. You don’t hug him back, but instead you let his embrace cool you down.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, more important than you planning out my funeral in your head right now,” He continues, “This is perfect for you.”

“What? The fact that my sister is going out on a date and I’m not is perfect?”

“No, no, you really are clueless, aren’t you? You poor, poor little girl,” He sighs, “This is a perfect opportunity for you to make amends with Wonder Boy tonight!”

“He just cares about Clem, not me, Seok,” You pout, “It’d be nice to, but he probably hates me.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re also wrong!”

Once again, Jung Hoseok is pulling out receipts left and right with the sole purpose of proving you wrong. He goes into his text conversations and taps on a group chat between him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. You squint at the title.

“Therapy from Y/N’s Stubborn Ass?”

“Poor kid named it, not me!”

You roll your eyes, scrolling through the conversation. An odd clump of texts from Jungkook shine out to you the most. They’re all from the night of you messing up your friendship with him.

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) I feel like I’m going insane I know I should be mad at her And I’m sure when I think about it properly, I will be But for some reason I don’t?

“Nice name for Namjoon.”

“Shut up and read the fucking texts before I lose it.”

[December 6, 12:55 AM] Joon Bug <3 Maybe you’re just tired, that was a lot to take in Hoseok yeah, but also try not to take it too hard. y/n’s kind of just like that. she thinks before she speaks and she gets way too angry for her own good. even more so if she cares about you.

“No need to call me out like that.”

“Trust me, Y/N, you needed to hear it eventually.”

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) Yeah, you’re right It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?

The rest of the conversation is Jungkook praising you, adoring how “strong” you could be and how cute you were when you got upset. It’s a complete shift in mood from seconds ago, and obviously the reaction you were not expecting. The same fluttery feeling becomes stronger in your chest, so much so that it’s too obvious to ignore. You throw the phone back to Hoseok, not being able to cope with the heaping amounts of new information you’ve received.

“What time do you think they’ll get here?” You murmur.

“Soon enough,” Hoseok sighs again, this time in relief, knowing that you were finally going to listen to him.

You decide to ease some of your nerves by actually watching the movie, pinpointing the many beautiful flaws of the characters and the stories.

“Y/N?” You feel someone shake you, “Y/N? Wake up.”

You croak some incoherent grumbles, rubbing your puffy eyes. You cautiously open one of them, gauging how bright the lights are. Once you’ve adjusted, you blink to see Clementine above you. You sit up from Hoseok, who you’ve been leaning on for the past few hours and who’s still sound asleep.

Who knew criticizing three romance movies back to back would make you so tired?

“Hi, Clem,” You yawn, stretching out your arms, “How was dinner?”

“Great,” She giggles, “I actually have something for you, and you might be mad at me for it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s more of a who, than a what.”

You nod, as Clementine helps you get up from the couch. In your sleep ridden daze, you forget about your urgency to talk to Jungkook and you also don’t recognize that she’s pulling you from your arm and walking you out the door. You only realize it when a brisk wind slaps you harshly in the face, causing your hair to become even more tangled than before.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of Jungkook on your driveway and Clementine is running back into the house to find refuge in your best friend.

He’s dressed in a simple black suit, a white dress shirt neatly tucked into his pants. The thin, breathable fabric is tight against his skin, further showing just how built he is for his age. The scars and bruises have faded away completely, but you do see a bandage or two when his sleeve rolls up to scratch his nose or fix a piece of hair that’s out of place. His hair is neatly combed into a middle part, some of the hair fanning over his eyes. His hands are now shoved in his pockets, and he’s staring down at you, waiting for you to say something.

Small is probably the best way to describe how you feel when you’re in his presence right now. Underdressed, too, maybe, as you’re only clad in an old hoodie that has the name of a college you’ve never heard of, some thick, baggy sweatpants, and a pair of bunny slippers. Not to mention how messy your hair is and how your face is still puffy from the deep sleep you were in mere minutes ago.

“Um… Hi,” You wince once you hear how scratchy your voice is. This certainly is doing wonders for your image.

“Hey,” He responds, hesitant as well.

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words to say. You plan to confess to him, right here and right now, but another harsh wind hits you, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms around yourself to try to create some warmth for yourself. Immediately, Jungkook takes off his blazer and wraps it around you. He leads you to the trunk of his car, and once it’s open, he helps you get up there so you can sit.

Bless his parents for giving him an SUV.

The car trunk blocks out the outside wind, and Jungkook’s blazer gives you immense warmth. The scent of laundry detergent mixed with faint, pleasant cologne floods your senses, calming you down right away. Jungkook watches as you snuggle yourself in his clothes. His legs hang over the edge of the trunk while you curl up in a ball, leaning on one side of the car.

“I’m sorry,” You clear your throat, “For being an asshole.”

“It’s no-“

“No, don’t say that. It’s not something you can just brush over so lightly,” You look him dead in the eye while you speak, “I was terrible and I’m really sorry for saying such mean things to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jungkook nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line before licking them. A thin layer of saliva glosses his lips, their color a more vivid shade of pink.

“I’m really sorry, Jungkook,” You repeat, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your voice is clear even though your heart is beating violently against your chest, and even you’re amazed. Hoseok was right when he said that you were good with your words.

Well, up until now.

“Y/N-“

When he says your name, your words ungracefully sputter out of your mouth, displaying just how afraid you are. 

“No, I’m, like, really, really sorry,” You feel tears well up in your eyes, but you brave on nonetheless, “I get it if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, and that’s okay, I just-“

“Y/N.”

In a split second, Jungkook’s hands are cupped around your face. He stares into your eyes deeply, fondly, just like he always does. You blink back at him, eyes fluttering while you try to adjust to the proximity. It’s then where you see every single little detail on his face that makes him who he is. The little scar on his cheek, the moles lightly dotted on his skin, and the way his eyes seem doe-like, almost. You take it all in, noticing how your breaths have synchronized, cold fog coming from of both of your lips.

You almost forget how much you like the way he says your name.

“Listen to me,” He whispers, “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

“Really?”

“I forgive you.”

The tears you’ve been desperately trying to hold back have somehow found their way out, and Jungkook chuckles while his thumb wipes them away. His touch is gentle on your skin, almost ticklish, and he doesn’t say anything else but just continues to dry the tears falling from your eyes.

“Jungkook,” You sniffle, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

He shrugs, letting out a breathy laugh. It’s music to your ears, just like it’s always been.

“Only to the people I love,” He tilts his head to the side, “Other than that, I’m pretty selfish.”

You giggle as well, putting your hands on his and leaning more into his touch. Your eyelids flutter downwards, as you take the time to just feel him on your skin, to savor this moment for yourself.

“Do you still think I don’t know anything about you, Y/N?”

You open your eyes and look at him, as he expectantly waits for you to answer. For some reason, though, your words catch in your throat. You never seem to be able to speak properly around Jungkook. He sighs, taking your silence as a resounding “yes”.

“Your name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and you’re a junior in high school. You’re on the Monarchs cheer team, and your best friend is named Jung Hoseok,” He says, not taking his hands away from you, “You have a little sister named Clementine, who’s 12. Your mom’s a psychiatrist and your dad is an architect. Even though they’re always busy, they’ve been trying to find ways to spend more time together.”

The routinely symphony of crickets mixed with Jungkook’s voice and the scent of Jungkook constantly wafting into your nose almost makes you faint. The state you’re in is one of complete bliss, complete relaxation as his hands are warm and welcoming against your skin. You’d go to sleep if Jungkook wasn’t professing his love for you for the second time right now.

“You like One Direction, even though a lot of people think that’s cringy. You’re still a big fan of the Power Rangers, and Trini, the Yellow Ranger, is your favorite. You can be incredibly mean and you can say things out of line, but most of the time you just don’t think before speaking,” He smiles at you while he speaks, “Deep down inside I know you’re an incredible softie. And I know that because of how you treat Tina. And, ‘cause you’re a softie ‘round me too, even if you don’t realize it.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” You breathe out, a smile forming on your lips as well.

“You used to hate me, because I called you thunder thighs during practice, and rightfully so,” He mumbles the last part, and you giggle.

“Didn’t know you’d remember that.”

“Remembered it ‘cause I can never forget how angry you were that day,” He teases, “Anyways, you used to hate me so much. And I’ll be honest, you had every reason to. I didn’t like you that much either.”

“Ouch.”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“But then I got to know you, got to see how kind and genuine you are around people, even if you don’t see that,” He says, “Sometimes you say terrible things, but under that tough exterior, all you are is just a genuine girl who does her best to make the people she loves happy.”

“You’re hardworking, smart, and extremely funny,” He continues, “In and out, you’re a beautiful person. That’s the Y/N I know, and that’s the Y/N I love and I will be in love with for a long time.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook waits, afraid that you’ll start crying again. When you don’t, he takes a deep breath before talking again.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” He confesses, “Can’t you see?”

You shake your head, reaching out to grab him by the collar. You pull him in and press your lips against him, your whole body being set aflame and your lips telling him everything that you’re dying to say. There’s a faint taste of Jungkook’s watermelon flavored gum on your tongue (If you thought about it hard enough, there was a hint of pasta there as well). His lips are soft and pillowy against yours, and you feel as though you’ve waited for this moment for your entire life.

Who knew it would take your mom, your sister, and Hoseok to make you realize that?

Jungkook smiles against your lips, caressing your face lovingly with his thumbs. Your hand finds a way through his soft brown locks, combing through the strands that fall in between your fingers.

The sky is painted pitch black, save for the bright stars and the moon shining for the two of you, but your world is painted in deep shades of pink. Sure, it may be extremely cold because it is still December after all, but Jungkook’s lips feel warm on yours and that’s all the heat you needed to survive. You could stay like this forever if you could, if your lungs could take it.

However, that isn’t humanly possible, and after what feels like forever, your body reminds you that you still need oxygen to function.

You pull away, hands still in their respective place while the two of you meet eyes, chests moving up and down in sync. Your lips are slightly parted, mimicking Jungkook’s, and a silence falls on the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s peaceful, as your world becomes nothing but Jungkook right at this moment.

“I love you,” both of you say at the same time, and before you know it, you’re laughing. Jungkook’s still stunned at first, but now he’s laughing just because you’re laughing and it’s contagious.

And in this moment, you feel safe.

Sure, you didn’t know a thing about love. You couldn’t even tell left from right at some times. But maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn’t have to figure everything out right now. Sitting with Jungkook in the trunk of his car, where the stars are beaming down on you and his coat is keeping you warm, is honestly all you need tonight. And maybe you still have some negative feelings you need to resolve from your past relationships. Maybe you had some issues in yourself that you needed to sort out, but that was okay, because Jungkook had his fair share of issues himself. And regardless of all of that, he was ready to risk it all for you. He was willing to learn and grow with you. Jungkook would wait for you as long as it takes. And you don’t need him to reassure you. You didn’t need to worry about it. You didn’t need to worry about anything, you realize.

Because now Jungkook’s walking you back into your house, offering to tuck you into bed and stay with you until you fall asleep, even though you’re 17 and you’re very well aware that you don’t need someone else to keep you company so you can sleep.

That doesn’t mean you’d decline his offer, though, as you lie in bed with him, snuggled up in his arms while he runs his hands through your hair. His dress shirt is scratchy against your skin, but you don’t care. Being with him is enough for you. 

“Are you still on the team?” You ask out of the blue, eyelids drooping down while your burning curiosity gets the best of you, “You didn’t get kicked off because of me, did you-“

He peppers your face in kisses.

“Coach and I are close, he gets it,” He mumbles against your skin, “Just gotta do a lot of his chores for the rest of the year and summer. I’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Okay…”

“That’s not your fault, princess,” He chuckles, “That was mine.”

“Yeah, definitely,” You nuzzle your face in his chest, “Still upset you did that.”

“Oh, I know,” He places yet another kiss on your head, “But for you, I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

And as the two of you fall asleep soundly in each other’s arms, you’re unaware of the loving smiles from your family and Hoseok’s faces when they see you two through the slightly opened door.

Epilogue

A little more than a year has passed. You’ve kept track.

Life has thrown obstacle after obstacle your way, but you’ve overcome all of them so far, and you plan to do so until your last breath. Jungkook was right when he said that you were strong. It’s amazing how you didn’t quite exactly realize this until now. 

But this “strength” is long gone today, as you’re sitting on a fancy wooden chair, the soft cushion feeling good under you, in the middle of an Italian restaurant. The chandelier’s are dimly lit, shading your beige surroundings in elegant oranges and creams. You take a deep breath, trying to still your heart that's pounding violently in your chest. Your nerves work against every single word of the pep talk you’ve given yourself this morning, and you steady yourself, fidgeting with the silk, blue fabric of your dress that’s laying across your lap.

You look over to your right, and if you were stressed out, Jungkook was ten times worse, to say the least.

His right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably, and he continues to wipe away sweat from his forehead with a napkin, despite the fact that the restaurant is heavily air conditioned. His lips are formed in a tight, miniscule circle, and he’s also trying to steady his breathing, but he fails time and time again, hyperventilating right after. Every few seconds, he’ll pull out his phone and use his camera as a mirror, his fingers fixing the littlest flaw in his hair that his mind seems to create. His left arm is resting on your chair, the feeling of the thick material of his sleeve tickling your skin.

You sigh, watching how much of a nervous wreck he was, despite how amazing he looked in his tux.

“Still can’t believe you took Clem to this place before me,” You quip, and Jungkook is taken out of his trance, a smile falling on his lips once his eyes meet yours, “I think that’s a little unfair, don’t you?”

A miniscule portion of the tension in his body is gone while he’s thinking of what to say, not willing to miss any chance of responding to your jokes with something of equal (if not more) wittiness.

“First come, first serve, princess,” He chuckles, and you roll your eyes at him, punching his chest lightly. Once you’re quiet, he’s back to overthinking.

“Y’know, the fact that you’re more nervous than I am is saying something,” You hum, reaching up to poke his cheek so that he returns to Earth.

“I can’t help it…”

You smirk, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. His face flashes up, and he shakes his head at you.

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” He sighs, staring at you dreamily. Even now, he becomes head over heels when you kiss him out of the blue. The sight of him having literal heart eyes for you makes you giggle.

“So are you,” You respond, “But, hey, it’ll be okay, I promise. Nothing bad could possibly happen.”

“...Really?”

“Of course, Kook,” You place your hand on his thigh, giving it an affirmative squeeze, “Everything will be fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well,” You click your tongue, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

He nods, most of the stress leaving his head. You take a sigh of relief, seeing how relaxed he’s become. Now he’s cracking jokes about anything and everything, and you feel a flutter in your chest. Jungkook was back to his normal self.

Well, he was until he suddenly froze in his seat while he was in the middle of telling you a funny story during practice. Your focus is turned away from him and you follow his line of vision. You’re met with a waitress leading a middle-aged man and a boy into the seating area. She scans the room and once she sees your table, she gestures over to you two, a bright, pleasant smile on her face.

Jungkook immediately stands up to greet the two of them, thanking the waitress for her assistance. He guides them to the table, and it’s only then where you get a good look at them.

You suppress a laugh. Jungkook definitely had his father’s nose.

So did his little brother, Yeonjin, who was the spitting image of Jungkook when Jungkook was 13. He even has the infamous bowl cut that Jungkook had when he was younger. The boy takes out the earbuds in his ears, unplugs them from his phone, rolls them up in his hand, and places the coiled up earbuds into his pocket of his trousers.

He stares up at you, almost in awe, and so does his dad, who’s looking you up and down. Jungkook’s father acts as if he’s dissecting a subject, taking you apart piece by piece and rearranging you in his mind so as to get a better understanding of your character. It’s times like these where you wish that mind reading was a skill.

Jungkook takes another deep breath. He then gestures to you, and you flash a polite smile to them, reaching out your hand.

“Um, Yeonie,” He clears his throat, “Dad, this is Y/N.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” His father says, a soft smile appearing finally. He shakes your hand. Yeonjin follows his actions, shaking your hand with an obviously lesser amount of strength, but with the same eagerness all the more. You hide the uneasiness in your chest, knowing all that you know about Jungkook’s dad and his brother. And knowing that his dad doesn’t know that you know about him.

Nevertheless, though, you sit down with his other side of the family and make easy conversation with them while all of you look through the menu. Yeonjin points to one dish on the menu to his dad, and then whips out his phone and starts scrolling through social media. He doesn’t say anything, save for a soft chuckle or snicker when he sees a funny post on his phone.

You take a glance at Jungkook, who has become more composed than earlier. You take a few more glances, and Jungkook does the same. When you make eye contact, you give him a bright smile, and he mirrors you. You feel the back of his hand on your thigh, and you put your hand in his. He lets out a sigh, squeezing you and massaging your skin with his thumb. The action brings both of you at peace.

“So, Y/N,” His dad takes a sip of the ice cold water in his glass, “How did you get to know Jungkook?”

This time, Yeonjin actually looks up from his phone to stare at you with curiosity.

You smile at them sheepishly, wondering what exactly to tell them of your wild ride of a story with Jungkook. Maybe you could omit some parts here and there, especially the part about him getting expelled because of you. You’re not even sure if his dad knew that happened to him.

You gulp, and Jungkook squeezes your hand once more. Now it’s him making sure that you return to Earth. Your nerves are still set on fire, though, and you stammer out a few incoherent sounds while you try to find the right things to say.

This was definitely going to be significantly harder than having dinner with his mom.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed!!! it had quite a bunch of cliches but i loved writing them nonetheless. i love you all :)