#i feel so fucking old its unreal “lets do something” they say

[little-mimikyuwu]

.

[marclef]

OKAY HELL YEAH THE POWER'S BACK ON HERE SO, VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!!

SOME-FUCKING-HOW I'VE GOTTEN TO ✨300✨ FOLLOWERS!!!!!

I DO NOT KNOW HOW THIS IS POSSIBLE BUT, I AM BEYOND AMAZED BY THE SUPPORT AND LOVE YOU'VE ALL GIVEN ME SO THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! ❤❤❤ YOU'RE ALL TOO SWEET AND KIND AND I LOVE EVERY ONE OF YOU /PLAT 🤗

this came a lot sooner than i expected, so i didn't have the best of plans to celebrate... but i do have a good Babysitter Fakey to offer. i hope you like him 😊

and... some ramblings under the cut, if anyone cares about hearing me yell for a moment...

but.... let me just say that, moving my art onto Tumblr has been one of the best decisions i've ever made. the love and support from here compared to Instagram is unreal, and, something i never saw coming, i've actually made some real close friends here. and me being the socially-awkward weirdo i am, it really means a lot to me. you guys have been helping me feel not just better about myself, but helping me reach out and talk to others like me, it's just insane. i genuinely mean it, thank you guys so much. you're the best ❤😭❤

and another thing..... i've been a bit busy with stuff lately, but i promise i'm trying to work on stuff! i've got a few drawing asks i really need to work on, and as for my writing..... okay i still haven't started it. but i AM trying to figure out how best to write it, because i plan on doing both split parts AND drawings for it. i want to make sure it comes out the best it possibly can. but stay tuned, there's a lot i've got to finish up!

..... oh alright. one more bonus if you've made it this far. lo and behold: the very first art piece i ever posted to Tumblr, not thinking i'd be moving fully onto here hehe 😅 enjoy Peppino's old design in all its full glory ✨✨✨

ain't he a beaut'.

[virusgeist]

REGARDING THE "STOP BEING CUTE MOTHERFUCKER BEFORE I KISS YOU" WOLFWOOD STYLE VASHWOOD

I mean I like it a lot tbh... these are more ideas than anything...

I can see Wolfwood bringing it up a lot like 'stop looking at me like that' or 'stop making those noises' or 'stop acting like that' and Vash usually automatically assumes it's cause he's done something wrong. He confronts him one time about why he's always bullying him but Wolfwood laughs at him for even thinking like that like...

"No... I'm warning you for your own good."

Vash gets angry about him laughing and the rather vague answer. They argue and get into a little scuffle. Wolfwood slamming him up against the wall trying to make him see eye to eye with him. Vash still not getting it and Wolfwood still dancing around the truth.

Wolfwood half yells at him having to explain further, "I'm trying to save you from this nearly uncontrollable animalistic hunger that rises within me when I'm with you!!"

Vash blinks. Finally catching on to what he means and his face flushing ten shades of red. Wolfwood realizing what he's said he blushes too. He didn't mean for it to be as intense as that, more or less merely kissing but... he wasn't going to correct himself sense it still technically was the truth.

He lets Vash go and tries to play it off cool taking out a cigarette.

A few minutes go by and Vash breaks the silence, "I... I didn't know you felt that way around me... I'm sorry."

Wolfwood surprised at how unbelievable Vash is, he truly thinks everything is his fault, "What are you sorry for Blondie- I like you dumbass. That's just how it is."

Vash looks at him bewildered. Nicholas liking the likes of him? It seems unreal... and even wanting to do... Was he even gay-

Wolfwood snaps his fingers in his face,"C'mon say something-"

Vash focuses on Wolfwood again. He wasn't sure what to say. "I... uh... I don't... know what to say."

Vash can visibly see the total disappointment settling in Wolfwood's face. He scrambles for more words not wanting to see him upset,

"I mean- I think I like you too! I just- I don't..." he scratches the back of his head unsure how to put it. "I have never... really been in a relationship like that before?"

Now it was Wolfwood's turn to be bewildered. "You're telling me you're 150 years old and you've never been in a relationship?" Wolfwood furrows his eyebrows and Vash nods.

"Never kissed-" he continues and Vash shakes his head.

"No sex?" He asked hopefully a last time. Vash shook his head again feeling a little embarrassed at these invasive questions.

Wolfwood clears his throat and throws his cigarette on the ground stomping it with his foot.

He starts chuckling to himself and looks up Vash like he's some kind of delicious meal, "Huh. Just... no time for it? or..."

Vash starts shifting in place and just folds his arms not sure where else to put them. "I've never really had the chance okay-"

Wolfwood walks closer to him. Vash stepping backwards till his back hits that same wall they were fighting on before. Wolfwood putting his hand on the wall next to his head and Vash's breath hitched. Unsure of his intentions but Wolfwood grabbing his chin gently with his other hand leaning ever so close making said intentions more clear.

"Well how about now, do you want me to kiss you?" His voice was sultry and his closeness made Vash forget how to speak. All he could manage was a faint, "Uh-huh." and a small nod.

His reaction made Wolfwood smirk and brush Vash's bottom lip with his thumb. "You're so perfect."

...

This is also like. In the middle of a mission and nobody else can get ahold of these fucks for a long while and everybody is worried and when they finally show up they keep asking where the fuck they were and what da fuck they were doing the whole time. Getting angry cause they were worried.

Wolfwood just tells them them they were really busy and didn't look at the time and not to worry about it besides its none of their business. They bicker for a while longer and she notices Vash hasn't said a word.

Meryl glances at Vash and he's just avoiding eye contact at all cost with a permanent blush across his face. She's getting ideas and overprotectively YELLS AT WOLFWOOD LIKE WTF DID YOU DO TO VASH!?

Wolfwood assures her he didn't do anything Vash didn't want him to do. Vash just coughs and suggests everybody to focus on their task again and to forget about it. Which saying that he unknowingly hurts Wolfwood's feelings... like he wants to forget... what they had done and said back there. Like it was just some spur of the moment thing or something.

Though he wouldn't let anyone know he was upset. Not even Vash. He scoffs and says, "Fine." Pulling out a cigarette and walking away cause that's his fuckin coping mechanism bshdjxm

He starts to be cold towards Vash and Vash takes notice almost immediately. Though they only talk about it in the middle of a gun fight later. Which is unfortunate to say the least lol.

Wolfwood pulls Vash off to a safer area and point his own gun at Vash and ask him why he shouldn't kill him where he stands for using him like that. Vash is EXTREMELY confused and Wolfwood has to explain further. Vash understands now how he might have taken it- assuring him that it's a misunderstanding...

He informs him he was honestly embarrassed about the whole ordeal and he didn't mean to hurt his feelings... and that he doesnt wanna forget and is sure he loves him. He does want him to be his first and hopefully last boyfriend.

Wolfwood looks into his eyes for a good few seconds before crashing his lips into Vash's in the most sloppy way. He smiles at him and tells him he's got a gunfight to get back to.

[superm4ks]

I wanna hear all of ur thoughts on 3344!!! Please tell us everything!!!! my only addition is that that copse crash changed the trajectory of their lives immediately like they could be fighting for p15 and would be all up in each others business. there is a special kind of distrust and contempt and anger for the other that no one else recives bc they reserve it all for each other and this is why they’re best f1 rivalry of all time 😋 sorry alain

omfg yes lets go a lil crazy���🌷🌷🌷

My 4433/441 thoughts are always all over the place like I truly havent been able to pin them down since l started watching f1 because these 2 are both like super weird in very different ways and they have zero bridges u can cross between them except for this unreal fucking level of on sight hating that makes a rivalry soooo good u feel it in ur tummy

When I tell u in Austria the moment I heard Lewis impeded Max I knew the baddie was gonna unleash the wrath of an old testament god upon this incredibly inconsequential fl0p vehicle number 44 like. Sorry to the haters and losers but its very funny to ME 😭😭 Inspector Hamilton didnt even make much noise about this which is even funnier because either he knows he'll catch a stray for impeding first or he just cannot handle Max and his Raytheon hamilton sensors anymore like he's tired and his own tp is telling him to shut up like leave him alone. ((I doubt its the last we'll hear of it tho))

And yes 2021 like u said prolly changed the trajectory of their lives forever not just copse but like monza, brazil, Jeddah. Whats so fascinating about Max and Lewis is that for such enormously talented drivers they simply cannot let each other race normal. They leave each other more space and will still fumble because they want to pass so bad. As u put it, its distrust, but its also just racing. Its the purest form of racing there is lmfao these are both karting prodigies and they still revert back to that when they race each other. I said this once they're like 2 maddies from euphoria in 1 show. But this whole dynamic of uneasiness between them started way before 2021 tbh.

Even when Max was a teenager wid a cap and a dream and the rawest dawg inside that literally bit people and Lewis was settling back into the record books wid a glass of wine and an established, tamed dawg, he still made a point not to rate Max ever. Max was taboo. Didnt even call him by name sometimes like to his face literally called him 'guy' which is such an Hamilton ass old school way of acknowledging an Opp like look at this

F1 drivers are so insane. Anyway I think Max still feels some type of way about all that. A job will have u 19 years old getting bullied by a 33 year old that refuses to say ur name. Max pissed everybody off those days. He just wanted to do the lil debrief and the old heads truly did not give a fuck they were so mean to him. Lewis went thru a divorce too so this was all wrong person wrong place wrong time wrong car wrong team wrong wrong wrong. All wrong.

They were doomed from the start like they were set on a collision course since Max was born that was as inevitable as he is. And the noise around them has always been too loud. But they do try which I find very charming and kind of sad. Like one thing about Max and Lewis they're gonna have a lil giggle together about something dumb and that hasn’t changed

((I am convinced whatvr lewis showed him on his phone here was like deeply illegal))

((this presser is soooo like at some point Lewis leans over and whispers that theres a lot of girls there for the weekend and Max is like umm and Lewis is like oh u have a girlfriend right ew 🙄))

🫠🌷this was so cute pls

They share sm history together in the one thing that matters the most to both of them which is racing. Like the way Abu Dhabi happened bro, all that led to it, the amount of new eyeballs on the sport just thru sheer force of narrative and hubris. They built that together. Nobody else cud have done it. Like they share thirty five 1-2s in F1. 35 times one of them was first and the other was second. I think 3 more times on the podium and they break a record for most podiums shared oat. Thats not unimportant it’s not meaningless especially not to these 2 in particular. They’re special. They’re both so special and mercurial and they save the worst parts of themselves. the best part of themselves. to each other . Everybody else takes scraps. The spray aligns

Yeah. Like yk. the spray aligns

[underratedandoverit]

dreams i left behind

~1,8k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

set in immortal fears/the belt corruption au. this ended up being more hurt/comfort i feel like than straight up angst, but whatever. its still rather happy with a happy ending despite everything ive just been thinking a lot about the upcoming times when kip first falls victim to the aftermath of curse after he loses the belt and how things are going to go down with that so.. a part of this is based on those thoughts ive had. and the rest is, well. it is more current, after all is settled and done, but its also. kind of a reflection of my current state of mind about certain things. iykyk

theres kinda shades of selfdoubt, unreality is strongly present and kip says fuck at least once. i think thats all i gotta really warn about lol

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

---------------------------

“I want him out of here!”

“You’re making such a big deal out of it--”

“He tried to attack me! He threw stuff at me!”

“You know it’s not his fault--”

“I don’t care! He did it and I want him out of here before he actually does something I’m going to make him regret!”

“Where the hell is he supposed to go? I’m the only thing he has.”

“Not my problem! Get him out before I throw him out!”

-------------

Cassidy’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his head rising up from the pillow as he scanned his surroundings. The bedroom was dark, indicating nighttime hours, which was why he could feel a small lump in the back of his throat at the sight of the empty side of the bed next to him.

It wasn’t an unusual sight exactly, but concerning nonetheless. Every time he woke up without Kip by his side when he knew he had been there when he had fallen asleep, Cassidy wasn’t sure what to expect exactly. Sometimes it was just insomnia keeping him away and Kip had left the bed instead of constantly tossing and turning to let Cassidy sleep more peacefully, other times the monsters in the dark corners of his head had gotten to him again. Sometimes it was a secret third thing that he didn’t need to worry about, but those cases were so rare Cassidy could almost immediately disregard them.

He slowly sat up, looking around the bedroom in hopes of just catching a glimpse of him. Maybe Kip had just gotten up to use the bathroom or to get a drink, and he would be back soon, and Cassidy had just woken up at a very inopportune time when he wasn’t there. But as he sat there, listening and waiting, after a few passing minutes he had to come into the conclusion that this wasn’t the case.

Pushing the blanket off and getting up on his feet, Cassidy had to admit to himself he was kind of afraid of what he would find this time around.

The last few times he had found Kip just having a midnight snack in the kitchen, but there had been times when he had been consumed by his own thoughts to the point Cassidy had to pick him up from the floor and drag his fighting figure back to bed to make sure he was safe and alright. Sometimes he might have sat by a window just staring outside, as if he was expecting something, never being able to explain what got him stuck there for what seemed to be like hours.

Kip’s head had become so difficult for him to probe at times. Cassidy didn’t like that, when it was just the exhaustion and his past actions catching up to him, it was so much easier to explain and work around with. He knew not all of this was the belts doing, some of it was the current general state of stress he was in, oftentimes it might have been the old conditions raising their heads taking him over, making it so easy for them when he was already in such a vulnerable state.

He tiptoed down the stairs, hoping to find the other man in the kitchen. It was his safest bet, as far as hoping Kip was okay was being concerned. Cassidy stopped in the hallway though, a soft wave of hope washing over him as he saw lights coming from the living room instead. If the lights were on, it meant everything was more or less okay, Kip hadn’t succumbed to the soul eating darkness, which was an incredibly good sign.

With almost a little too fast steps Cassidy stumbled to the doorway, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he saw the Brit sitting on the couch, eyes fixated on the television screen, watching a muted game play video of something Cassidy didn’t recognize. It didn’t matter though, he was here, seemingly in one piece, aware of his surroundings too as Kip glanced over his shoulder towards his direction even though Cassidy tried to quietly approach the couch to not scare him.

“Hey.”

Kip just nodded back at him as he turned back away, Cassidy leaning against the back of the couch, reaching a hand over it as he ran it through Kip’s hair. He leaned a little into the touch, a silent sign that he was okay with it, a little smile crossing Cassidy’s lips.

“You weren’t upstairs. I got worried.”

Kip still didn’t reply back at him, Cassidy’s eyes narrowing at him a little bit. Usually Kip was full of excuses and explanations, so such silence for him was unusual. He seemed to be okay, at least on the outside, which was a good thing, but it was so obvious not everything was like it should be.

“Come back to bed.”

The silence lingered in the room as Kip refused to even acknowledge his request, eyes just scanning the television screen in front of him as if the other man didn’t exist in his vicinity anymore. Even as Cassidy tried to brush a hand through his hair, Kip just carefully leaned away, leaving the blond’s fingers just grasping at the air instead as he slipped away clearly intentionally.

Retreating his hand back to himself, Cassidy walked around the couch, taking a seat next to him. Kip didn’t try to get away from him, but the lack of attention he was paying to Cassidy after he had expressed concern for him wasn’t lost on the blond. He kept observing the side of Kip’s clearly tired face, him not being bothered at the staring in the slightest it seemed. Kip was almost acting as if Cassidy didn’t exist at all anymore, which sure was a first in his list of odd behavior the aftermath of the curse brought out of him.

“What is going on?”

“Why do you care so much?”

Cassidy’s brows furrowed as he watched Kip finally look directly at him, the questioning look on his face as sincere as Cassidy had ever seen it being. “Why are you so worried about me?”

Cassidy looked at him for a moment silently, allowing Kip time to continue. “Why has this always mattered to you so much?”

He knew exactly what Kip meant, but being put in the spot with such a question left him speechless. Kip very well knew the answer to all of those questions though, this was far from the first time they had ever talked about this, and surely it wouldn’t be the last one either. And yet, for some reason, the questions left Cassidy unable to respond back to him.

“You have… Sacrificed so much. For this. For me.” Kip glanced away, inhaling deeply. “For us. I don’t understand you.”

Cassidy didn’t dare to stop him to tell him things that they both already knew.

“You could have kept your friends. Your friendships. Your relationships. You could have had everything, your full time career, been on the road, had fun, lived your life…”

Kip snorted quietly, shaking his head. Cassidy didn’t say anything, but he was sure he saw a little sparkle of a tear in the corner of his eye.

“Instead you chose to be here. With me. Out of everything you could have done, with your time, with your life, you are here. You have always been here.”

He laughed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cassidy didn’t reply back to him, his hand just reaching for Kip’s as it sat on his lap, giving it a small squeeze. Kip glanced down at it, watching their automatically intertwined fingers from a moment, as if the sight was going to give him the answers he needed.

Nothing needed to be said, they both knew full well what was going on and what had happened to lead up to this point, but he was still questioning it. Maybe it was the recent nightmares that had brought up old memories Kip had tried to suppress in the back of his mind, but he still had to ask those questions.

“You put so much on the line for me. Almost everything you had. I don’t understand you.”

Kip didn’t want to admit that he probably wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed, but…

“You know why.”

Kip didn’t look up at him, but he nodded. Of course he did, there was no question about it. But at the same time he didn’t know, he still didn’t quite understand why Cassidy did all of this and had done all of that leading up to this point. It didn’t all add up in his head, it didn’t all make sense.

“Because I love you.”

There was a small hint of a smile on Kip’s lips as he finally looked back up.

“Not since the very beginning.”

He was right though, as Cassidy shook his head a little bit. “No, not since then. But long enough.” He lifted their hands up, giving the back of Kip’s hand a little kiss. “Now, come back to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Kip didn’t resist as Cassidy stood up, pulling him up on his feet as well. He just quickly wrapped an arm around Cassidy’s waist, pulling him closer for a quick kiss on the lips.

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

-------------

He could see the shadows, the human shaped they formed, but the exact features and faces were too blurred to recognize. The voices sounded distorted, but the emotions shone so clear through them it almost hurt Kip��s ears.

“You can’t seriously be leaving with him.”

“You aren’t giving me much of a choice here.”

“That’s a grown fucking man, he can take care of himself!”

Kip could feel the eyes of the eyeless looking at him, without anywhere for him to hide, his mouth not letting him speak, to defend himself. He was disregarded almost as fast as he was noticed though, left to float in the fog without a place to be, where he would belong.

“He needs me. I’m the only one that can help him.”

“Bullshit.”

“Was that the same thing you said when I was like this?”

The static silence fell around them, the faceless shadows looking around between Kip and each other. All he could do was watch, seeing one of them suddenly approach him, offering what seemed like a hand to him. Like he was on autopilot Kip accepted it without a question, watching it slowly shape into a familiar arm covered by a light denim sleeve, almost comforting fingers wrapping around his wrist as it gently nudged him forward, towards the unrecognizable figure.

“I’m with you. To the very end.”

[tobiastotoby]

Chapter 1: Unlikely Allies

The Mojave Wasteland was unforgiving, its scorching sun and treacherous terrain testing even the most resilient souls. The Courier, known as Six, had navigated the dangerous landscape, forging alliances and facing formidable foes. Among those who had joined forces with Six was Arcade Gannon, a former member of the Followers of the Apocalypse.

Their paths crossed at the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside, Arcades first meeting of the courier was unreal to him. Arcade watched as the beat up 6 stumbled into the fort looking for a doctor to help him. 

“ Please come sit here sir I can help you!” arcade felt himself shouting out, this handsome rugged beat up man. He didn't understand the call that he felt to him, this wasteland was no different from most just a little more handsome. That couldn't have been it, it couldn't have only been how hot he thought this stranger was. His thoughts ran wild as the man sat down.

“Thank fuck finally someone helps me! I thought everyone was just gonna let me bleed all over the place!” Gannon nearly exploded with this gruff voice spoke, like he was walking whiskey. Gannon just couldn't contain himself; he had to say something smooth to this man in seconds of meeting him; he couldn't help but develop a crush on him. 

He hadn't been with anyone in a while.‘What if this goes somewhere?’ He really couldn't stop his mind running with fantasies of this man, what his hands feel like, to be held at night by this man. As he prepped everything to fix him up he asked the normal doctor questions

“What happened to you, and what do you need done? What's your name? And can you please sit still?” Gannon almost felt his voice shake trying to keep himself together.

“OH, so what happened was when i got into freeside is that i was helping the kings with some bounty hunter and they tried to jump us with a tourist trap, also my name is 6, OH, I also got shot in the head a while ago and survived have you seen a checkered suit walking around? He's the guy who got me cause I don't remember anything before that." The rambling was damn near incomprehensible for 6 but Arcade was clearly hooked on everyword.

“Jesus christ, uhm……. I’ll start by patching up your current wounds and give you a round of painkillers. Im Dr Arcade gannon btw well i'm really just a researcher but i can still help you, we’re going to need you to stay overnight yo watch these stitches” gannon couldn't stop imaging them laying together as he said this.

“Stay overnight? Ok fine i can do that but am i sharing a tent with someone. I don't normally share. What if I stay in the hotel, can you come with me? I know they have separate rooms, i’ll pay.” 6’s request almost couldn't be real, the romance novels gannon had scavenged over the years and this only happens in these books. 

“Uhm… i can't let you do that, it's a lot of money” Arcade was kicking himself, hard. 

“well …….. How about you come with me, travel around and help me out, I could use a smart, tall doctor around, you can travel and help people with me, plus looking at you isn't so bad” 6 was trying to be a smooth as possible, he understood how gannon could help him and even if he was more of a researcher it would hurt to have someone smart on his side. Charming as he was he was never really the sharpest tool in the shed so to speak, this could help balance his team out. 

“uhm…..Well if i leave….. And……..” Gannon was looking him back in the eyes, the intensity coming from him he almost felt like he could melt right there, taking a deep breath he thought about it, what really was he doing here as a researcher, all the data he got was often not really what he needed but well mercenaries where his only choice but if he were to go out he might really do something “I'll join you, it could help me do my work, and you’re pretty handsome yourself” Gannon’s voice had almost been sucked out of him. 

“SWEET, this is gonna be sick, the rest of the gang is going to love you, Boone, rex, grandma lily, she's so sweet. We are gonna be unstoppable.” 6 was talking about how excited to show him off to his friends, he could feel that this had to become something.

[angelmavmurdock]

Lock & Key: Epilogue - B.B.

A/N: Just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who supported this series! Love and appreciate you all so much, you don’t even realise. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t worry...something new is already on its way... !!Leave me some asks about what you’d like to see me write!!

-

It was the day after the mission. The night everyone got home, everyone went home. There was no way any of you had the energy to go out that night. You somehow convinced your Dad to let Bradley stay over with you in the house because you didn't want either of them to be alone, so it was the best option in your mind. You, your dad, and Bradley sat in your living room with some of your dad's favourite records playing in the background – some of which Rooster had recommended – and you sat with some drinks and chatted. You all got along - talking and conversing with each other for hours.

Your heart was full. You were leaning back into your dad and your legs were slung over Bradley. You were the happiest you had been in a long time with those two finally getting along.

But soon, you felt your dad's body relax and Bradley nodded when you asked if he had fallen asleep. So, you carefully stood from the couch, and slung a blanket over him and you and Bradley left to your room. You both crashed as soon as your head's hit the pillow, in all honesty. You were both just so happy to be in each other's arms.

In the morning, you woke to the smell of bacon. You and Bradley walked out of your room to see your dad in workout gear, making breakfast for the two of you before leaving for his morning run. He had a bowl of cereal while you and Bradley scoffed multiple rashers of bacon down.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing. You did, however, have to go to a doctor's appointment about your back. But luckily it wasn't as bad as it was before, you just had to take it easy. You were extremely happy no hospital time was needed.

You and Rooster walked on the beach and grabbed some lunch at a nearby diner in town. And you couldn't not take the opportunity to fuck your boyfriend in his bronco.

When you arrived home, you and Bradley got a text to meet the team at The Hard Deck later on. And you informed your father of the invite.

On the warm summer's evening, you put your favourite pair of jeans on and a plain white t-shirt that fit the cut of your jeans. You didn't bother with makeup, and you let your hair go naturally. Bradley – of course – wore one of his father's old Hawaiian shirts with his white t-shirt and jeans. And he couldn't forget the aviator glasses. You and Bradley rode on his motorcycle with your dad on his own behind you, to the bar. You pulled up and placed your helmets on the seat before walking into the crowded and hot bar.

Bradley led the way, holding on tightly to your hand as you weaved through the crowds. You knew your dad was going to see Penny, so you didn't need to wonder where he went off to.

"Hey, guys!" Phoenix welcomed you and Rooster as you finally got to the team in the usual spot.

"Hey, babe." You smiled as you embraced her, letting go of Bradley's hand to do so.

"How's you?" She asked, sitting back onto a barstool.

Bradley brough a seat for you and him and you thanked him as you sat down.

"I'm great. Feeling a lot better. How are you?" You asked.

"Want a beer, hun?" Brad asked you, placing a hand on your hip.

You looked up at him and nodded, "Thanks."

He pressed a kiss to your temple before sliding his hand and his body from you to the bar.

"I'm also a lot better, thank you. But you guys...I mean, come on."

You blushed. You couldn't help it. Just the thought of the man made your whole body get hot. You and Phoenix both looked to him standing at the bar being so casual and charming to Penny. You groaned as you turned back to her.

"I can't even." You sighed.

She chuckled, "He's so happy with you, it's unreal. I've worked with Rooster quite a few times, but I don't think I have ever seen him so genuinely joyful."

You pouted your lips, "I can't believe we went 10 years with no contact. It's crazy to me, now."

"Well, you've got each other now. And I better be first to know when he proposes."

You scoffed a laugh and smacked her leg, "Phoenix!"

"What! He's infatuated with you and he's not a waiting kind of guy. That man knows what he's got, and I don't think he's going to lose you any time soon."

Your whole body warmed. God, you felt like a kid with a playground crush. Your stomach flipped at the thought of him down on one knee. You opened your mouth to retort against her but a hand came to your shoulder to shut you up.

"My ears are burning."

You rolled your eyes and looked up to your boyfriend as he handed you a cold bottle of your favourite beer.

"Were you intentionally listening?" You asked as he sat down next to you.

He shrugged, "I guess you'll never know."

You shook your head and looked to Phoenix. She smiled and sighed.

"You two make me sick in the nicest way possible."

"Love you, too, Phoenix." Bradley commented.

She pretend-laughed before getting up and heading to the bar.

You turned back to your boyfriend and watched as he took a swig of his drink, slinging an arm around the back of your barstool.

"I'm guessing you want marriage at some point, right?" You asked, resting your closest hand on his mid-thigh.

He nodded, "And the house and the kids. The whole package."

"How many kids?" You asked, raising a brow.

"I want an equal number of genders. So however many it takes to get that."

You scoffed, "Well, I'm telling you right now, mister; no more than three."

He furrowed his brows, "Three? That's hardly any!"

"We are both only children. How is that not enough?"

"Because I want a whole baseball team, baby."

You shook your head, "No way in hell, Bradshaw."

You watched your boyfriends eye level rise and his hand lifted from the back of your chair.

"Aint that right, Mav? You want a whole baseball team of grandkids?"

You shook your head ferociously, realising your dad was now behind you.

"Or even a football team would be great." Your dad commented, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged his hand off and he came around to face you with the stupid grin he always wore when he wound you up.

"Not a chance in the world." You said.

Brad placed his arm around your shoulder and you nipped his inner thigh. He yelped, jumping slightly in his seat.

"Any more talk about sports teams, and I'll nip you someplace else where it won't be possible to have one kid."

He held the hand holding his beer up in a gesture of surrender. You smirked at your win and settled back, rubbing your hand over his thigh soothingly. He played with your hair as you both engaged in other conversations with the team.

After about 30 minutes and two and a half drinks down, your dad shouted over to the group from afar.

"Hey, Rooster?"

You all turned, and Bradley moved his hand from behind your seat to your knee.

"Wanna give this old girl a play?"

Mav trail his hand over the top of the piano and tapped it. A grin grew on your face. Bradley turned to look at you as if he needed permission. You squeezed his thigh and nodded.

"On you go." You encouraged.

You thought it was the most wholesome thing ever that he looked at you with such hopeful eyes. He slid off his seat and pressed a kiss to your cheek before heading over to the piano. Your dad pulled the plug from the jukebox and a collection of annoyed sounds came from the crowd. The energy tonight was insane. There were probably more people in the bar than you had ever seen before – and it was all because of your amazing team and your two favourite men.

Phoenix came to stand by you, and you watched as your boyfriend lifted the lid of the piano and sat his beer on top of the instrument, sitting down on the stool. His fingers began toying with the keys and your heart – and somewhere more north – fluttered.

"If that man plays Great Balls of Fire, I'm gonna need another drink." Phoenix commented before leaving your side for the bar.

You chuckled to yourself and stayed seated, happy with your clear view to Bradley. Your dad stood by the piano, and you watched as they laughed and chatted together. He took his aviators from their folded place on his t-shirt and put them on his nose.

He is definitely about to play Great Balls of Fire. You thought to yourself.

You looked at your dad and then to your boyfriend. You watched how happy they both were and how your dad used to tell you and Bradley about the times where Goose would play in the bar with you and Rooster sitting on the piano. And Carole usually joining in, too. You wondered if your dad had somewhat healed from that memory, because he was enjoying himself so much with Bradley.

He started playing some improv, but you knew just by the notes and the key he was in, what he was about to play.

You had such a clear flashback in your mind of a moment you and Bradley spoke about a lot growing up. It was his mom and dad's catchphrases before Goose played something or did something silly. You smirked at the memory and gained a rush of confidence.

"Hey, Rooster, you big stud!" You called from your seat.

Bradley looked over to you, tipping his sunglasses to look through them at you with a huge grin on his face, his fingers still playing the keys. You felt the whole crowd – including your dad – turn to face you.

"That's me, honey!" He replied.

You sat forward, "Take me to bed or lose me forever!"

"Show me the way home, honey!" He called back.

The crowd watched and erupted in laughter and applause as your interaction with Bradley finished and the four iconic chords began to play.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!"

You giddily laughed and stood up from your seat, meeting Phoenix on your way to the piano. She replaced the bottle in your hand with a new one and you thanked her. You both had your arms around each other before you parted ways so you could get closer to Rooster.

"I laughed at love 'cause I thought it was funny!" Your boyfriend sang, looking to you as you managed to fight your way to his inner circle.

"But you came along and you moved me, honey!"

You grinned as you danced closer to him, using his signature shimmy to get yourself to him. He laughed at you as he sang because you were getting that kind of tipsy. He opened an arm quickly for you and you swiftly slid onto his lap, resting your butt on his right thigh. He closed you back in with his arm.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he winked at you.

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!" You all sang in unison.

"Kiss me, baby!" He looked to you.

You grabbed the nape of his neck, and he craned his neck slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You held it long enough for you to taste the beer from his lips, but not long enough that it affected the song.

"Ohh, that feels good, baby!" He shivered comically after your kiss and you laughed, shaking your head.

"I want to love you like a lover should,"

He pressed a quick kiss to your arm, tickling your skin with his moustache. You ran your fingers into his hair and smiled at him as he played.

"You're fine!"

"And so kind!" You sang to him.

"Imma tell the world that you're mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!"

You giggled, and laughed, and danced your way through the song. You even attempted to play a few notes, but they were so wrong that you couldn't continue.

As Bradley finished, the whole place erupted in cheers and applause. You looked around the room and it was almost intimidating how big of a crowd had actually formed. Bradley did the same and you both exchanged a look of awe. You grabbed his sunglasses from his face and put them on your own, ignoring how big they were on you.

Bradley swept you up into his arms and you squealed, holding onto his broad shoulders. He had you in bridal hold, swinging you around in circles. Everyone began chanting your names and you felt like you were in a movie.

"Rooster! Locket!"

They kept going. And going. You were laughing and smiling so much your cheeks hurt and the warmth of the beer was spreading through your veins.

Bradley eventually placed you back on the ground, but you still held onto his shoulders for balance. His hands slid around your waist, and you could finally look up at him without the room spinning.

He was smiling so big; his cheeks were flushed, and his hair was messy. You knew how happy he was in that moment, and you felt the exact same.

"You know what?"

"What?" You asked, looking up at him through the aviators.

"I was always going to be the only key to your lock, honey."

Your cheeks flushed, "You are so cheesy, Rooster."

He smirked, and you felt the glasses getting removed from your nose.

"I know. And I don't care." He said, before his lips crashed into yours and the whole bar exploded in whistles and cheers.

-

Taglist:  @mak-32​ @anolddayslover​ @alana4610​ @n3ssm0nique​ @daryldixonstorm @livychan @luckyladycreator2​ @justatiredhuman​ @surely-sherly @marvelsvalhalla @im-your-possession @honey-leclerc @wherearetheavacadosat @welpthathappened​ @edgypickles​ @kylpkfbe @lillizxzz @lilpeekabooze​ @daisyhollyxox​ @piceous21​ @hey-its-kayla-claire​ @shrimping-for-all @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @khaylin27​ @santiiagopopegarcia​ @avengersfan25​ @thescarletknight2014​ @beebslebobs @delaneyburghardt​ @shadowsndaisies​ @inlovewithstiles @marantha @devrill 

[double-hoe-seven]

AFC Richmond as boyfriends

Here’s a lil headcanon collection of our favorite himbos as boyfriends.

I did it again for the staff (: AFC Richmond Staff as partners

A/N: Definitely didn’t put everyone but these were my top ones and it’s 2 AM so imma leave it here.

Sam Obisanya

The absolute sweetest man you have ever met

Such a softie, very concerned about making sure you’re happy and comfortable with whatever choices you make together.

He always picks the most random times to surprise you with things; showing up at your work randomly for lunch or with coffee/tea, random little souvenirs from his away games.

He’s always putting himself second and sometimes you have to remind him “hey, babe, you can do things for yourself, you deserve nice things too.”

Just, compliments galore with him. He’ll always find a way to compliment you on something.

The most cuddly person ever, he loves public affection (hand holding, piggy backing, hugging, kissing if it’s not raunchy, etc), he really just likes showing you off because he feels like the luckiest man in the world to have you.

He takes his time with your relationship, letting it bloom and grow at it’s own pace.

There aren’t many fights between you, hardly ever, the last “fight” you had was because you couldn’t unanimously decide which dog to rescue. The solution? You adopted both, now you share a one-eyed Jack Russell Terrier named Starro and a three legged German Shepherd puppy named Harry (Pawter. He was so proud at his pun when he showed you the then 3-month old puppy.)

Again, just the sweetest, more romantic man you’ve ever met and ever will meet.

thesexisgoodtoo. hesaverygentleandgivinglover

Isaac McAdoo

Man’s stubborn.

I mean it, he is as stubborn as a mule.

I’M DEAD SERIOUS, he once pouted for 5 days when you accidentally ate the last Rolo in the flat.

But he’s also romantic in a sort of rugged way?

He won’t go shopping with you but he knows what colors look best on you, he knows what styles look good on you, and he has your sizes and shades memorized.

Bear.

Mr. sometimes-crank-teddy-bear over here.

He’ll say he doesn’t want something but he will eat half of your food if given the chance. If you step away from your food to get a drink or something, there will be a good part mission when you get back.

Its a tradition to go on a date the morning of a game, and snuggle up with a movie after the game.

You have had more than a few drunk texts from him, all of them equally funny and full of sexual innuendos.

You don’t address his Rolo addiction. It could be something much worse anyway.

Richard Montlaur

So many visits to the goat farm he was raised on!

He really has to drag you back to London after visiting his parents because you don’t want to leave all the precious goats (and you and his parents get along famously).

You spend alternating holidays with each others families (except for Bastille day, you always spend that either together or with his family.)

There are always roses in your shared flat.

It’s a constant battle over his facial hair.

He has a grudge against the way the English make French pastries.

He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch or in uncomfortable positions and then wondering why his back or neck hurts.

Little spoon.

He’s teaching you French.

This man is a smooth operator, master at flirtation and romance. He’s good at planning romantic dates and outtings.

Dani Rojas

You 100% believe his mom when she says he was born caffeinated.

One of your first dates was a Mumford and Sons concert which was an interesting experience.

Soft boi hours with him. He’s a lil puppy dog.

Does this man ever sleep? Rarely.

He rises with the son and wants to get the day started immediately but he’s mostly letting you sleep in now.

He LOVES trying new things, exploring new places, generally having new experiences.

His absolute favorite thing to do when he’s not training is playing football (or any game, really) with the kids in your neighborhood. They all love him.

He’s a sweet boyfriend, not as sweet as Sam but he’s a close second.

You alternate who plans date night. You split the chores 50/50 but divvy it up if one of you is sick or has more work to do.

There’s so much alcohol in your flat its unreal.

You usually go to sleep before him but he has a bad habit of throwing himself into bed and partially waking you.

He makes the best breakfast most mornings.

And don’t forget the trips back home to visit his family in Guadalajara.

After a long day of training, he loves just laying down with his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jamie Tartt (Season 1)

FUCK NO

Jamie Tartt (Season 2)

On your first date you got drunk and bonded over shitty fathers.

Not that either of you really remembered the next day, you were both too hungover to immediately recall the night.

His love language is kind words.

At the start he needed a lot of reassuring that you did care about him for who he was, warts and all.

He’s slightly awkward when it comes to romantic gestures so most of the date planning falls on you don’t mind.

He still has some high maintenance behavior but he’s working on it and you’re proud of how far he’s come from the prick he used to be.

Your fights are usually over petty shit like where to eat for dinner or what movie to go see.

He will not hesitate to buy your feminine products for you. He knows your preferred brands and sizes and what treats you like when its that time.

He’s good at those rigged carnival games, the many little stuffed animals in your closet can attest to that.

He talks in his sleep. It’s all nonsense.

He has a soft spot for the neighbor’s cat (and cats in general).

Roy Kent

Rugged.

He’s great to snuggle up to.

The man is honest to boot. He doesn’t sugar coat anything at all.

10/10 times he will go down on you if asked. He’s a giver.

He is the heaviest sleeper in the world. You don’t know why he bothers setting alarms.

Phoebe has a room at your flat and spends so much time with you both.

Many nights have been spent reading different books on the couch together.

He has to clean the drains since 75% of it is his.

Fuck is a very versatile word in your home, used daily.

Not the most romantic man alive but he has his moments.

Date nights are usually relaxed and proper but sometimes you can make the old man have a little fun.

He growls at least a dozen times a day, it’s his main response.

Jan Maas

My beloved

My sweet, beloved Jan who can’t/won’t use a filter to save his life.

He’s blunt in everything and sometimes it makes you want to slap him.

Jan is still getting used to English ways and mannerisms.

He has good intentions but sometimes needs a little help with wording.

He likes going on Aquarium dates.

The more tired he is, the clingier he is and it’s too cute.

Once after a game he plopped onto the couch next to you and basically tried to curl up in your lap.

He can make amazing pancakes.

Thats it though.

You’ll do most of the cooking if you value living in a flat that’s not on fire.

He’s a sweetheart though.

Mostly good intentions though.

Doesn’t mind nudity and had to quickly be reined in by the team. Not at home though.

At home he can easily be found lounging in boxers and a t-shirt while he sips coffee.

He knows what he’s doing.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[tanadrin]

@iracher

Tumblr recommended me your post and I just got really interested in what game writing do you think is good? (im really interested bc I love rpgs) I think pillars of eternity did a good job to let you roleplay whatever. I hate inquisition tho, I dont understand why would MC help chantry =\

i’m gonna use this opportunity to vent about inquisition for a sec, because although it has features i like, it also has features that bug the shit out of me.

i like that the DA franchise doesn’t have a single protagonist--having multiple main characters you play as lets them tell discrete stories and keeps you from omnicompetent hero syndrome, where a characters feels like a mary sue just because they have the lifetime accomplishments of like six people (i’m look at you, Star Wars Expanded Universe). the worldbuilding isn’t great--it’s mostly ISO standard fantasy--but it’s OK, it has some original bits (the qunari are great for this), and it’s a fun enough place to run around in.

but they clearly want the chantry to be the local catholic church expy, with all that entails for a modern popular audience--dogmatic, often militant, strictly hierarchical. as a result, they’re sort of intrinsically organizationally unsympathetic. and then in DA:I they borrow the name “inquisition” to continue the medieval aesthetic, except the actual historical inquisition is monstrously unsympathetic, especially to a modern audience, and the name doesn’t even really make sense? and why should an independent organization trying to save the world from disaster be affiliated with the chantry anyway? and why are you the head of it? just because you have a magic hand? idk, it’s all quite weak justification to get the setup they want, and even then it takes way too long to establish all this in-game. it would make a lot more sense if you were already a minor-but-significant political or religious figure of some sort, but mostly you’re just Some Guy/Girl.

boring fantasy writing by committee is the worst kind of fantasy writing.

my absolutely favorite all-time RPG is the original Deus Ex. it’s so old now it’s probably hard to look at unless you’ve got some intense nostalgia goggles on, but it had extremely fun gameplay (the genre is sometimes called “immersive sim,” i think, and it’s one that’s kind of rare nowadays; hbomberguy talks a little about its history in his hilariously long video on Human Revolution), and i thought the writing was great.

not to say it doesn’t have weird bits and bits that fall flat. but it had ideas, and it was willing to try them, even if they didn’t always work. it’s a heady mix of 90s conspiracism, cyberpunk, and weird political tangents and digressions that you don’t get anywhere else, not even in its direct sequels. it also prefigured in a dreamlike way the next 20 years of political and social development with uncanny accuracy, as if Warren Spector had a vision of how the 21st century would go but could only half-remember it in the morning. and the soundtrack slaps so fucking hard it’s unreal.

otherwise, i generally prefer RPGs with tons of visual character customization and dialogue. which is to say i liked most of Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2 (never played the third one). the character-level interactions often felt strong and satisfying, even if the plot as a whole wasn’t super well-written. i actually think that lower-level element of writing is more important--i can forgive a dumb plot around a macguffin or a threat to the universe, but not boring character interactions. this is something skyrim was bad at; for open-world RPGs, Fallout: New Vegas does it considerably better, although my only real complaint about that game is that i like having a fully-voiced protagonist.

[lubdubsworld]

Akrasia.

Happy Birthday To the Golden Maknae.

Here’s a little treat in lieu of Jungkook’s 24th Birthday!!!

Canon Compliant. 

Jungkook x OC

Word Count : 10K. 

Genre : Mild Angst. ( Happy'Ending) Jungkook X OC

Akrasia (noun) 

PHILOSOPHY    the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgement through weakness of will.

 Getting involved with someone like Jungkook is a bad idea. Do you even realize who he is? How much he’s worth? He’s easily one of the richest men in the country . He’s loved by everyone.

I wrapped the coat around myself, tighter. Everything that Lee Jiae had said was true. She was a popular idol . Someone who would actually make a good match for the Jeon Jungkook.

But even Jiae balked at the idea of going anywhere near someone like him.

Career suicide, she had said firmly. That would be career suicide, Areum. He has fangirls from all over the world. Billions of them. They will dig so deep into my past, find the most innocent of things and twist and turn it and the next thing I know, I’m being kicked out of my band, out of the company and on the streets. I don’t want that. And neither should you.

I shivered a bit. No, I thought honestly. I didn’t want that either. I was far from successful, just an up and coming soloist , with a very very niche fanbase. I did sell a lot of records and I made enough money to live comfortably but I was not a mainstream celebrity. I didn’t register on people’s radar because I stayed far away from the spotlight.

There was something about social media that made it a terrifying thing to me. It was so abstract and unreal and yet…it seemed almost like a sentient being.

A powerful sentient being that could potentially destroy my whole life.

It scared me.

And while Jungkook and BTS had conquered that particular monster, had leashed and saddled the beast and made it their own personal pet…. I didn’t want anything to do with that.

I don’t want that, I told myself firmly. I really don’t want that. I want to stay this way… make music I love… read the few dozen fan handwritten fan letters I received everyday, make the occasional appearance on a magazine cover and then just quietly retreat into my studio. I want this. And if I go anywhere near Jeon Jungkook, I’ll lose this. I’ll lose all of this.

My phone buzzed and I jumped, glancing around nervously. The late October wind was cold but not biting. Winter would come but not for a while. And yet my skin chilled in apprehension. I always felt guilty, picking up one of his calls in public. It felt like I was being watched, like everyone could hear me, on the phone …Could hear who I was talking to.

“Hello.” I whispered nervously, eyes flitting around to find a secluded spot in the park. It was early in the morning, still an hour away from sunrise and I quickly hopped over a small hedgerow and moved into a wooded area, away from the main path that had the occasional cyclist or jogger.

“You didn’t come.” His voice was honey, the way it dripped into my senses and made my breath catch. And yet it was the undercurrent of disappointment that tugged at my heart. Made guilt churn inside me in rapid little currents.

“Yes. Sorry.” I said quietly, picking my way past a few bushes to a bench a little way into the woods. It was rusty and damp because no one came here , and the darkness was absolute, only faintly broken by the dim glow of the streetlights hundred yards away. I settled into the bench nonetheless.

“Areum…. Don’t do this to me.” Jungkook said brokenly and I exhaled.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m being smart. And you should be too. You’re romanticizing something that was just…it was just a conversation. We had a conversation . That’s all that happened.” I said desperately. It was something I’d told myself over an over, these past few weeks. Weeks of avoiding his texts, of ignoring his calls.

Calls from his hyungdeul.

That had given me a whole heart attack.

“You’re just going to ignore me then? Toss my feelings away like they don’t matter?” He asked quietly and my heart clenched.

“You …” I shook my head.” You need to understand something. I’m not going to do this. I can’t afford to. I told you already Jungkook…we spent one evening talking..that’s it…we’re not dating..we don’t know each other well enough for you to be saying that you have feelings for me-“

“And I told you I don’t fucking care. “ He said sharply. “ One day… One hour…who cares? I believe in soulmates. Call me foolish and dumb but I do and when I saw you I felt that. And I know you felt it too.”

My mind flashed back to that evening. It was a private birthday party for a mutual friend. Barely a dozen of us had attended and Jungkook had been sneaking glances at me all evening, completely oblivious to the ay every woman in the room had their gaze glued on him. The party hadn’t been my thing at all and I’d sneaked away to the private terrace, accessible only through a rickety old fire escape and to my utter shock he had followed me up there.

The stars had been exceptionally bright that night,  but with Jungkook sitting on the tiled roof next to me, gazing at me with all that adoration, his doe  eyes had seemed to hold more of them than the night sky.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” I asked quietly.

“I want you. I know you want me. We …we understand each other. I want the same things you do. Do you even fucking realize how rare that is? To find someone who shares the same thoughts, the same dreams as you do? Who looks at the world the way you do… I… I am not foolish enough to think that there’s another girl out there who could connect to me the way you do. You call that a conversation…just a conversation…. Did you forget what kind of a conversation it was?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks ago  

The party had barely started and I was already itching to run home. There was a particular song lyric , stuck in my head like a loop and I wanted to put it on paper as soon as possible. I had this thing where seeing something on print helped me to elaborate on an idea. Directed my train of thought in that particular direction if you willed.

Mingyu was walking around, talking to his friends and making them laugh with his witty banter but I didn’t miss the way he shot me little glances. I gave him a quick thumbs up though, to let him know I was okay. He was a childhood friend, one of the few people I’d stayed in touch with through the years. And of course, being in the same industry meant a lot of shared interests.

I moved to the side bar with the drinks and appetizers, ordering myself a diet coke before hopping onto one of the stools. I watched the dozen or so people here….His bandmates, some other idols. I recognized Yugyeom from GOT7. They were all dressed in dressy casuals : flashy shirts and tight jeans and racy little dresses and I felt out of place in my long jean skirt and tasseled leather jacket.

Sighing, I turned back to my drink when a commotion near the door made me look up.

I felt my eyes widen when I saw who it was.

The Jeon Jungkook. From BTS.

I stared at him as did pretty much every person in the room.  Jungkook was easily one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in my life, tall and just…big. I stared at the broad shoulders, the huge arms and the taut line of his abdomen, tapering into a narrow waist and long, long legs with muscular thighs. He was wearing a black shirt, unbuttoned all the way to his chest and skinny blue jeans with black boots.

I smiled, genuinely awed. Jungkook looked every bit like the untouchable superstar he was and I considered that the party hadn’t been a waste after all. The chances of me running into someone like that in person were pretty slim.

Almost at once he was surrounded and I watched as his ears turned red, gaze shifting away and an almost soft shyness in the way he bowed politely . A hesitation to be put on the spot but also a need to stay polite , probably. Laughing a bit , I watched him some more and then his gaze lifted to mine. To my surprise, his eyes went wide in what was clearly recognition.

What.

I watched as he quickly bowed and said something to the people around him before picking his way to me. My entire body went taut with surprise.

“Lee Areum ssi…” He stuttered, eyes wide and I could only gape. “ I’m a huge fan.”

I blinked.

What.

What.

“You know who I am?” I asked , mildly horrified and he laughed nervously, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his palm across his nose before laughing a little.

“Your voice is just… something about your songs…they help me sleep when I’m too exhausted to relax.” He said softly and I felt warmth pool inside me.

“Too exhausted too sleep. That doesn’t sounf good...”

Jungkook chuckled.

“Its not. It usually happens when we’re preparing for a comeback. It different with concerts you know…we’re exhausted because we’ve been running around …singing…its all physical…mostly. And that’s easy to brush aside and sleep. But comebacks…there’s that nervousness. The worry that things may not be as good as they were. Constantly having to keep up to standards. “ He shook his head. “ it can get exhausting.”

It was something deep and oddly tragic and I was stunned that he’d shared something so… personal. To a literal stranger. But the urge to soothe..to comfort and reassure him in some way was over powering.

Instinctively, I leaned closer and lightly touched his forearm .

“But you are the standard, now, Jungkook ssi. What BTS has done, others can only dream of reaching. You’ve brought this….utopian idea that you can love yourself just the way you are… and that’s amazing. I understand the need to meet expectation but I think you’ve earned the right to sleep without being burdened by them.”

Jungkook didn’t reply, staring into my eyes and I felt my pulse kick up a notch, my eyes taking in the beautiful features and my throat went dry when his gaze dropped to where my fingers lightly brushed the soft fabric of his shirt sleeve.  

“Oppa…Let’s dance.” A shrill voice behind him made us both jump and I quickly pulled my hand away. Panicking, I turned away from him fully, ducking my head so my hair could cover my face. There was a dull roaring in my head, making it hard to hear what he was saying but a second later he moved away from the bar and I exhaled sharply.

Shaking I turned back to my drink.

Another twenty minutes of trying to avoid looking at Jungkook, I gave up. This wasn’t my kind of place at all and after a quick word with Mingyu, I moved to the small balcony in the side, desperate for some fresh air. But the moment I stepped out, my eyes fell on the rickety ladder like stairs, rusty and clearly a death trap. I quickly moved to the ledge and peered up at the roof. It was a little inclined but nothing dangerous. And there was a barricade that would break my fall, just in case I slipped.

Thrilled at the prospect of doing something that was both foolish and fancy free, I quickly, climbed on to the ladder, climbing all the way over to the top and throwing my legs over the iron railing before carefully walking overt to the center of the roof. Grinning to myself, I settled on the slightly damp tiles.

“You’re lucky the ladder didn’t break .” Jungkook’s voice made me yelp and I stared as he quickly jumped over the railing himself, grinning and wiping his hands on his thighs.

“Oh my god, people are going to find us here!” I hissed, terrified and he laughed.

“Don’t worry. I told them I’m going home.”

“You lied?” I shook my head in disbelief and Jungkook hummed.

“Did I?” He pretended to think. “ Doesn’t feel like I did.”

It took me a few seconds for the implication to sink in.

I looked away, blushing a bit.

“Did I come on too strong?” He moved to sit next to me, just a foot away.

I shook my head.

“No. I’m just.. I didn’t expect you to know me. We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“There’s a very cliché line in my head about how you’ve been running in circles in my head for a long time but I’ll save that for our first date.” He said with a laugh and I blushed deeper.

“Date?” I shook my head, “ That’s not funny.”

“Good. Because it wasn’t a joke. Let me take you out to dinner sometime.”

I stared at him, trying to look for the punchline because even if he denied it, it was still laughable. The mere idea of it.

“Don’t turn me down Areum ssi.” He said softly and I swallowed.

“I won’t if you take it back.” I said quietly.

He sighed.

“Then…when you sang about wanting to give love a chance…wanting to free fall for once without worrying about the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, wanting to soar into the sky without thinking of the ropes trying to tether you to the ground….were you joking?”

I gaped at him.

“that’s.. those are… Those are lines from before my debut.” I said shakily.

“Like I said… I’ve been a fan for a long time.” Jungkook whispered.

The night was magical. Cool and refreshing and the night sky was resplendent, the lack of clouds offering a stellar view of the stars and yet, I found myself drawn to the galaxies swirling in his doe eyes. The strong nose and the cherry red lips, now being worried between slightly large front teeth as he stared at me with all the nervousness of a young boy.

But he wasn’t a boy. He was a man.

And this wasn’t a love song.

This was real life.

“Free falling is fun when you don’t know what you’re falling into. But when you do know that there’s a lot of pain at the end of the fall, its not something you want to experience.”

“Areum…”

“I’m flattered.” I said quickly. “ Beyond flattered…really. But… I can’t.”

“Okay. But don’t leave. Stay here with me.. for a while. Let’s talk.” He said quickly.

Jungkook was handsome and the night was still young. This maybe the last time I would ever see him and I was honest. It was flattering, receiving attention from someone like that.

I hesitated before sighing and nodding.

“Okay…let’s talk.” I smiled, throwing caution to the winds.

And talk we did. About everything and nothing. As the night grew darker, Jungkook relaxed next to me, laughing as he shared anecdotes about his members, about his family, about his brother. And then naturally about how successful they were these days and Jungkook told me that there was always a downside to fame but he enjoyed the love he received. That he loved his fans for how they treated him and his brothers.

“Fame comes with a price but it’s a small price to pay…being loved for what I do..being accepted the way I am…it feels good.” He said quietly.

“It’s not always that way though.” I pointed out honestly. “ You guys are … I won’t say lucky because you’ve definitely worked hard but you’ve been more fortunate than the rest. Sometimes the spotlight can be a terrifying place to be.”

“you forget that we were once one of the most hated idols in the country..” He laughed. “ Trust me I know.”

“I didn’t know about you guys till you got on the Billboard. And you’re an amazing singer as well.” I said softly.

He grinned , playing with the bracelets on his wrist.

“Thank you.” He said sweetly.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, staring up at the sky.

“I’ve never been attracted to fame.” I told him honestly.” Of course it holds its charms I suppose but I’ve always preferred the quiet of being obscure, you know. Like this secret that only a few get to learn in their lifetime.” I laughed. “ A hidden treasure maybe? Its why I started a Youtube channel instead of auditioning. Because only people who genuinely liked my music would get more of me. ” I smiled.

Jungkook hummed.

“When you first started singing your own songs on your YouTube channel? It was kind of around the same time we won our first daesang…” He smiled. “ In the MMA.”

“Oh…Really?” I asked surprised. That was nearly five years ago.

“Yeah. And till then..it was just your voice that I got to hear. You talked a bit but mostly it was just you covering someone else’s songs. And well, after we won the daesang I felt …lonely? Kind of? Scared maybe. And then you sang, ‘ White Dove’ a couple of days later and the lyrics…they just resonated with me you know. It made me feel like I knew you… Like you were a friend.”

I swallowed.

“I..thank you.” I whispered quietly, staring at my hands.

“And when you refused to sign with SM or YG. You also refused to monetize your videos on Youtube. You said your voice was your gift and you didn’t want to make money from something you’d received for free yourself. That …I loved that.”

“You’re like that too. You post your covers and songs on soundcloud for free as well.” I said quietly and he smiled.

“Like I said…we have a lot in common.” He smiled.

I smiled, shaking my head.

“I envy you.” He said quietly and I glanced at him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just… You’re so untouched by all this. By me. It may sound incredibly narcissistic but people swoon when they see me for the first time but…you’re just you…. And that just makes me remember that you’re amazing and beautiful and you have such beautiful mind and you’re just… you’re so far out of my league. You’re so content with what you have and I wish I could be that way….But I …I can’t help but be greedy.”

“Greedy?”

“To do more. To want more. I know I should be happy that I even got to meet you . I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in these two hours , sitting here talking to you. But I’m still greedy for more.” He stared at me with an intensity that was electric.

“More what?” I laughed.

“More of this. More of you. More of you and me together. More of us.”

“Us?” I laughed, shaking my head. “ There’s no us , Mr. Jungkook . you need to forget about that.”

“ I don’t think I can.” He said suddenly.

I felt the smile fade from my face.

“Jungkook.”

“Your song … Utopia… where you write about your idea of the perfect world. I… I loved it.” He said shakily.

“Jungkook , wait…”

“All of these days, when I listened to your songs, I would make it personal.. It would be about how those words applied to my life but with Utopia… that world you talk about …where you can be yourself, where you can sing whatever you want, be whoever you want…. When I heard that song…it became about you. About us.. I… that world you dream of.. I want to give that to you.”

My jaw dropped and I exhaled in disbelief.

“Do you realize how ridiculous that is? Your fans…our companies… Everyone will lose their minds.” I whispered, horrified.

He nodded.

“I know. I know I shouldn’t ask you this. Because it goes against my better judgement. But I can’t help. I still want to choose this. Choose you. So if there’s a word for that.. That is how I feel.”

“I.. I should go.” I said nervously, making to move but he reached out an gently gripped my wrist.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked quietly and I shook my head.

“No.. I don’t.” I said quietly.

“Good. Because neither do I. But I do believe in people who can understand you better than anyone else can. Just give me a chance. One date.”

I stayed quiet staring at my feet. There was so much to consider but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him and say no. He looked so hopeful.

“I’m busy for a couple of weeks. But there’s a beautiful terrace restaurant in Itaewon that I know. We’ll have complete privacy . I’ll get my chauffeur to pick you up. No one ill know. I just want to spend some time with you over dinner and if you have a good time….. we can meet again.”

And then what?

“I…I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.“ I said honestly.

“That’s good enough for me. Can I have your number at least?” He asked finally.

I nodded and quietly put it into his phone.

“I’ll make the reservation and send you the details. And Areum?”

I glanced up at him.

“I’ve been free falling since I met you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

“I do.” I said quietly. “ I do remember.”

“I haven’t stopped falling. I keep listening to your songs on loop… Because I can’t bear the thought of being away from you , of not being connected to you in some way…”

“You’re so .. you’re so intense.” I whispered shakily and he laughed.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s just the way I am… I’m here you know. The restaurant I told you about. And my chauffeur is at your home. But he told me he couldn’t find you. It’s the middle of the night . where are you?”

I sighed.

“In the park opposite my house.”

Jungkook didn’t respond for a second.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” He asked quietly.

I took a deep breath.

“ Akrasia. “ I breathed out nervously.

“What…”

“its when someone makes a decision…against their better judgement.” I laughed nervously. “When we had that conversation , you asked me if there was a word for it. For acting against your better judgement. Akrasia is the word you’re looking for .”

He stayed quiet on the other end.

“Okay.” He said finally. “ Well, are you going to be akratic with me?” he said finally.

“Ask your driver to leave for now. And come meet me in my apartment tomorrow. I’ll make you dinner.”

Jungkook didn’t respond.

“That way we’ll have more privacy.” I said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dating Jungkook was a lot of pain. Just as I’d anticipated. It was sitting by and watching him work himself down to the bone. It was watching people throw themselves at him and not being able to say a word. To the world he was single. And the number of women who called and hounded him was unnatural.

And he worked so hard that my heart ached for him.

One night, he missed dinner and I couldn’t reach him on the phone. I stayed up , sitting on my bed, waiting.

He came back at exactly at three in the morning. He didn't turn on the light but the moonlight through the window was sufficient to let me know that he looked terrible. i watched him shrug out of his jacket, leaning against the table , long legs crossed and crisp white shirt unbuttoned. He tugged at his tie with a sort of tired , half hearted gesture and i smiled.

i watched him for sometime, seeing him shrug out of his shirt and change into a simple white t shirt. He moved with a sort of graceful strength. Like every single cell of his body had the same confidence that he did. 

It was like a dream, i realized as another dull ache of pain twisted my heart. It was like i'd slept and woken up in someone else's dream. A dream where it was okay for me to look at him and feel things for him , without fighting to convince herself that it was dangerous. That it was going to end in heartbreak.  

As i watched him prepare for bed, i wondered when I had started falling so hard.  

The sound of the door closing, made me look up , shaken out of my thoughts. Jungkook was locking the door behind him. 

When he moved to the bed, i decided to let him know that i was awake. 

"You're back?" i said softly. 

He hesitated, clearly startled , before smiling at me. It was a weak smile, one that practically screamed exhaustion and i sat up straighter,  watching as he moved to me side and gently stroked me hair. 

"Why aren't you asleep?" He smiled. 

"I was waiting for you." i said honestly holding my hand out and he took it, kissing it obediently. 

"you'll have to wait longer, I'm afraid. I have a meeting tomorrow morning with PDnim and I still haven't prepped for it. I need to get an hour's sleep and get back to work. " Up close he looked so tired that i felt my heart clench in panic. 

"You don't look good." i said, alarmed as i realized that his skin had a distinctively grayish tinge to it.

"Comeback times are always that way. Never good for my health." He said teasingly. He checked his phone messages before turning to me and smiling.  

"I see you've been cutting back on the pain killers... are you feeling better than?" He asked. I’d been down with some menstrual cramps earlier and I was touched that he remembered, even in the mess of his schedule.

"I wish you wouldn't change the topic everytime I try to show concern for you."  i said , a little bit annoyed. He grinned and touched my cheek with his forefinger. 

"Just the fact that you are concerned is enough for me . anything more and I might die of happiness. you don't want that do you?" He winked. 

Deciding that it was impossible to talk with the man, i asked him if he wanted something to drink. 

He shook his head and climbed in next to me but before laying down, he turned to me. 

He hesitated. 

"Will you lend me your shoulder for the night?" He said softly , placing his hand there. 

i sighed as he leaned against me . His skin felt warm against me, his hair lightly tickling me cheekbones and i threaded me finger through the silky strands. 

In just a few seconds, he was fast asleep. 

I stayed awake, watching the room grow steadily brighter, the weak winter sun gently finding its way into the room , much like the way the man in my arms was gently finding his way into my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"We should get a house, don't you think?" i said two months later, sitting up in bed , eating dinner while i watched him work on his files. He'd placed the desk in the far corner of the room, giving me the perfect view. And i was beginning to enjoy it a lot more than the one i could see out the window. 

" A house? " Jungkook stopped and looked up. " You want to live with me ? Just the two of us?" He smiled.

Well, when he put it that way. I balked and ducked my head. 

"It's too soon isn't it..I'm sorry I don't know why I..."

"What kind of a house would you prefer? Flat? Penthouse? Apartment? Duplex? Tell me....I'll get you the listings and you can pick out the ones you like . When you get better we can go pick one out." He grinned at me and i relaxed against the pillows , while he went back to his files. 

"I read something online…” i said casually . He didn't look up, merely humming to acknowledge that he'd heard me. 

"Did you date Lee Hyeri ?" i finally said. He stopped and looked at me. 

"Yes. Many months ago. I broke up with her because I wasn’t feeling anything serious and I didn’t want to lead her one. She didn’t take it very well. ." He said softly, moving towards the bed and sitting on the edge. As was his habit, he reached for my hand, holding it in his and tracing circles with his thumb.

“She called me.” I said quietly and he stiffened.

“Shit.”

I laughed.

“She wanted to meet me . Wanted to talk about something although I have an idea what. I’m not going to indulge her though.”

“If she calls again, you should tell her that her obsession is bordering on stalking and I’m on the verge of getting a restraining order. She turned up at my studio too. Went on an on about how I broke her heart and cheated on her . ”

 i hesitated , looking away from him and smiling. 

"I don't know . Should I?" i shook my head. i hesitated, pulling my hand away from him. "What else did she say?" i said suddenly, remembering how angry she had sounded on the phone.

"Nothing, you need to worry about. Are you done with this? Shall I clean it up?" He reached for my dinner tray and i grabbed his wrist. 

"where are you going?  You should tell me what she said." i protested, but he gently pried my fingers off before dropping a kiss on me forehead .

"And You should tell me when you're going to start staying over at my apartment.. It's going to snow in a few days. Or so they say. I thought you might like to enjoy the first snow with me..." He smiled . 

I took the subtle hint to drop the subject.

"You're being too wonderful. It makes my heart ache." i snuggled into my bed and pouted at him. He laughed at that. 

"Take rest. I have a meeting right now. I'll be back late so you should sleep." 

I watched him leave, feeling oddly bereft. I was growing to love him deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As with every couple in the world, our fights were often over the silliest things.

"You're still angry." I said casually, watching him work on his documents, the low burning desk light setting his features in sharp relief. He looked at me for a second and shook his head.

"I'm not angry , Areum. I'm busy. There is a difference." He said with a sigh, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye. I watched the gesture and sat up straighter in bed, leaning over the side to stare at the clock there. It read 1.15 Am.

"It's snowing." I said softly, getting one my knees and peering out the windows. Through the haze of moonlight, I watched the small flakes drift down over the neatly cut hedgerows, making each segment of the garden look like neat cut slices of cake with vanilla cream frosting. I grinned at the little wisps of cotton white snow, clinging to each little branch on the trees and felt my heart swell with joy. 

"I suppose you're too busy to make good on your promise." I said naughtily, peering over my shoulder to glance at him. 

"Promise?"

"That you'll walk with me , in the first snow." I said, turning around and getting out of bed, slipping my feet into my fur slippers. I watched him fight with himself , the emotions warring across his handsome face and held my breath.

finally he sighed and stood up. I tried to keep the triumphant grin off my face and failed miserably. I felt awful, because deep down I had known that no matter how angry or upset he was, Jungkook would never break a promise. And I'd worded my request that way, just to take advantage of that little chink of honor that he always lived by. 

"Alright then. Let's go take a walk in the first snow." He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You love snow."

"How did you know that?" I said surprised, lightly grabbing the low lying branch till it showered both of us with soft white flakes. 

"You make these little sounds , everytime you see  snow. I've noticed it from the time we met." Jungkook grinned . 

I laughed and turned away. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a fairytale, the white landscape making me feel like some exotic Ice Queen. I walked ahead of him, running a few steps till I was about ten feet ahead of him. I turned around, facing him as I walked backwards. He laughed at that. 

"Be careful. The snow looks soft but the fall will hurt." He warned me, putting his hands in his pockets and narrowing his shoulders to fight the chill. I smiled and shook my head.

"I want to look at you and make sure that you're not angry with me anymore." I said, enjoying the way he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm not angry. I told you that."

"Yes. You did. But i didn't tell you I'm sorry, did I?" I said softly, stopping in my tracks and watching as he drew closer. Jungkook gave me a curious glance, walking slowly till he was just in front of me.

"I'm sorry I said I'll leave you." I said honestly. He looked surprised but smiled nonetheless.

"Duly noted." He bowed his head, tipping an imaginary hat at me. Smiling, I turned around I ran a few more steps and instinctively knelt on the ground

"Don't ." He said suddenly. 

I  looked up from where I was gathering a handful of snow. I gave him an innocent smile. 

"What?" 

"I know what you're thinking. don't do it." He said, taking a step back. I felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through me, realizing that the big bad wolf was actually scared of being hit by a snowball. 

"You should know why I like snow so much.." I grinned with mischief and he gave me a look of disbelief.

"I don't think you can hit me. You're forgetting that i'm an expert at taekwondo.”

I held my hand up and threw , cursing when he casually stepped out of the way, laughing at the look on my face. 

"You have to concentrate on what you're doing. Anticipate my next move and react accordingly." He advised, bending down to get some snow for himself. 

"React to this!!" I grabbed two handfuls of snow and ran straight at him, grinning as I leapt on him.

We landed on the snow, Jungkook  on his back and I right on top of him, laughing as I smeared the snow on his face. He spluttered in disbelief and swiftly, threw his weight over, pinning me to the ground and straddling me, fingers swiftly grabbing my wrists and pushing my hands over my head, leaving me vulnerable and helpless, as he shook his head , showering me with ice cold flakes. 

I squeaked in surprise and he laughed hard.

Watching him laugh, full and open , I realized that I'd never watched him laugh that way before.

He looked exhilarated. 

Yanking my hand out of his grasp, I grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a kiss. 

the first touch of his lips to mine, felt like the sweetest, coolest sip of crystal waters after a lifelong thirst . 

I sank into the snow, sighing into the sweetness and the gentle pressure of his lips against me, the first touch of his tongue, making heat seep through my body, despite the cold. I curled my fingers into the fur near his neck, smiling into the kiss as he slipped one hand into my hair, gently tilting my head for better access. 

He kissed me softly. He kissed me deeply.

He kissed me like that was what he'd been put on the earth to do. 

But mostly he kissed me like that was all he wanted .

It was so absurdly romantic that I wanted to laugh .

I could catch whiffs of his scent, even though my eyes were watering and mey nose felt like it was running. Some elusive cologne mixed with the scent of  clean male skin . It made me heat up in ways that curled my toes in my fur boots. Each little kiss lasted a little longer than the one before, till I was certain that I was going to melt into the snow. And each little breath felt like a little wisp of my soul leaving my body and mingling with his. 

We kissed and kissed and kissed, while the snow fell in white flakes around us .

First Snow. first kiss, I thought happily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After our little episode in the garden, I found that I felt something akin to desperation everytime I came in contact with Jungkook.

It's not that I woke up one day and realized that something had changed in the way I watched Jungkook.

. That my eyes lingered, not just on his face but on the curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, the exposed skin of his neck. My fingers wanted to reach out and  grip, not just the strength of his shoulders and the slender digits of his hand but also his lean waist.

I began losing my mind, slowly and painfully. Suffocating when Jungkook got too close , choking when he went away too far.

As they spent time together, Jungkook began touching me.

. Not too often and never in an intrusive way , but every time his fingers traced the back of my palm or brushed back my hair, my  throat went dry and my heart stopped pumping blood and I felt like like a fool because I had no idea if Jungkook felt half of what I was feeling.

In fact I was certain that Jungkook didn’t feel anything at all.

What I was feeling was painful and confusing and if Jungkook felt any of it, he would be running as far away from me as possible, not moving closer and closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you so nervous?” Jungkook laughed and I bit my nails nervously, glancing around the reception hesitantly. The workers were all busy, no one spared us so much as a glance but I couldn’t help but feel terrified.

“It’s only us here? For the whole weekend? No one else?” I asked again for the hundredth time.

Jungkook groaned, shaking his head and ignoring me, holding his hand out for the keys to our cottage. I yelped a bit when he began walking away without waiting for me, running to keep up with his long strides.

“Sorry…I just don’t want you to get in trouble.” I said quietly, slipping my hand into his, linking our fingers together and smiling a little.

He squeezed my hand gently before pulling away to wrap me in a one armed huge, pressing a kiss to my neck.

“I booked the entire resort for the weekend. The staff have all signed a confidentiality agreement. No one is going to know we’re here. You can be as loud as you want.” He whispered and I yelped, hitting his chest,” let me finish….” He laughed. “ When you yell at me. You can be as loud as you want when you yell at me.”

“You’re a terrible person.” I whispered , burying my face into his arm in mortification.

Jungkook merely laughed .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You seem tense." He said that evening, as the pair of us sat on the back deck , glasses of bubble tea in hand , watching the waves break out on the rocks. Slow but persistent , gradually breaking the rock's resistance and carving its way into its heart.

"Can we ever …truly be relaxed ?" I asked , a little bit of desperation in my tone. Jungkook didn’t turn to look at me . Instead he took a picture of the rocks and the sea with his phone.

"That's a pretty loaded question. With a lot of answers."

I stared  at him, wondering why I was more confused now than before.

"Sometimes I can't understand you at all." I said quietly, shaking my head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” He said softly.

I hesitated before nodding.

“That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys dropped by for a visit the next day.

I sat down on the open deck, opposite Namjoon for a game of chess. Jungkook slid into the armchair next to me.

"Are you winning?" Jungkook asked quietly and I shot  him a glare, which gets a smile in return promptly. It was like he always knew what to say , how to manipulate my thoughts and emotions, how to make me look and feel a certain way , just so he could steal that part of mr away.

How evil.

At first I didn’t  notice that he was sitting a bit too close for comfort, because as such, we've lived on top of each other for quite a while now. But after a while I became  aware of the warmth of his thigh, solid and strong against my own, evident even through the layers of jean separating them.

I  tried to move away, surreptitiously, but Jungkook only moved closer.

"Try this."

His fingers fluttered over my thigh, intentionally or not I would never know, reaching for my queen and I tried not to jump out of my skin, gritting my teeth as my muscles stiffened, my nerves tingling like electric.

I licked my lips and Jungkook’s  eyes flickered up at the movement, a gentle smile tugging at his lips and my gut clenched in embarrassment. But the brunette moved even closer, his bare arm now brushing against mine  and I had to swallow the desperate urge to get up and just run.

"Well, this is entertaining." Namjoon said suddenly and i looks at my opponent for the first time since Jungkook’s  arrival. Namjoon was leaning back in his armchair, amusement shining out of his eyes .

I scrambled  in a bid to put space between Jungkook and I and failed miserably.

"He's just helping me with chess." I said desperately.

"Oh, is that what they call it these days?" Namjoon leaned forward looking very intrigued.

Jungkook reached out and clonked him on the head but his eyes were laughing and I wondered how this was going to end. I wanted it. Wanted to take that final step with Jungkook but I was also so , so scared.

Would it change things. For the better? For worse?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook, I soon realized, took the way I was shying away from him , as some sort of a twisted challenge to get closer than ever. The more I moved away, the closer Jungkook gets , touching me in gentle intimate little touches and every time he did,  a slow simmering fire started at the pit of my stomach, reaching out in gentle upward licks , drying my throat and turning my insides into molten goo.

She's almost tempted to ask Jungkook if he feels the same way but she's saved the trouble later that week.

"I want you."

I froze on the spot, fingers stopping in mid air, inches from picking up a slice of apple, neatly placed on the tray. We were in the dining room,  Jungkook sitting with a set of files spread out in front of him and me with a knife and a few uncut apples in a basket.

"You..what?" I squeaked.

" I'm attracted to you and I really want to have sex with you." Jungkook said  , almost carefully.

Like he was announcing the weather. Like his words weren’t carefully calculated to turn my world upside down.

"Alright. " I whispered, not even sure what else I could say to that.

I stole a glance at Jungkook who was grinning from ear to ear. I felt blush rushing up my body, the blood flooding my face so quick it made me dizzy..

"Don't .. Don't look at me like that." I whispered, mortified to sound like a sixteen year old girl.

"Do you want me to leave now?" Jungkook reached out , placing a soft hand on my palm and it took all my  willpower not to grab Jungkook and hug him. Instead I managed a weak smile. My mind was a few seconds away from collapsing in on itself and I was too stunnedto think straight.

So I answered the question at face value.

"No, I don't want you to leave now. "

"Okay. Go ahead, eat your fruit. It's good for you."

Jungkook smiled again, serene and perfectly at peace with the world.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At eleven thirty on Saturday night, both Jungkook and I sneaked out of the hotel, arms laden with our picnic basket and coats draped over our shoulders. Once we reached  large pond in the outer edge of the property, Jungkook made quick work of the blanket, spreading it out on the artificial lawn that surrounded it.

I settled down on it, reaching out and dipping my legs in the water. It's a bit chilly but only for a second. I wriggled my toes playfully and Jungkook slipped a bit closer to me, letting his foot sink in next to mine.

We played around for a while, splashing water on each other and then I pulled my legs out.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked softly and I turned around to stare at him , a little apprehensive. There are so many things wrong with this , a part of me screams. But there's a part of me that longs, so badly , for this simplicity. Longs and has longed, all my life. Just this, the chance to relax and be myself and play around with water in the moonlight.

"I'm not sure." I admitted, honestly.

"Tell me. " Jungkook said and for once his voice isn't relaxed. Instead it's a bit urgent and anxious.

"We're not... I’m so scared that we'll never make it, you know." I sighed, dipping my legs back into the water, just as Jungkook pulled his out.

"Why? Because of the media ?" There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice and I hated myself for bringing this up. We were supposed to be spending time together, enjoying each other’s company. I wasn’t sup[posed to be ruining the mood like this.

"It's nothing. I just.. I don't want you to get hurt." I said honestly.

"Because of you? Because I'm with you?" Jungkook's voice was lot softer now, the bitterness replaced by concern.

"I.. Yes.. I mean... I'm.."

"You're a gorgeous young woman who is intelligent and charming. Why would I ever give you up?" Jungkook asked, reaching out and wrapping an arm around my shoulder but I couldn’t help but sigh.

"That's.. that's not what everyone else thinks." I reminded him. “ And that not what they’ll say, if you ever tell them the truth about us.”

"No it isn't. And I won't say something stupid like , it doesn't matter what others think. Because it does, I know it does. And it's going to hurt. In fact I think it would hurt you a lot more than it would hurt me. But if I don't... If I don't take a chance with us... that's going to hurt me too. So its a choice. I can either  choose to get hurt by people I don't give a damn about , and in return I get... get to be with someone I really...like…..

"Or, I give up the woman I love and get hurt by my own decision. " Jungkook finished.

"We hurt either way." I smiled bitterly, Jungkook's words making a lot of sense.

"Yes. All you need to choose is , what's worth the hurt? Being with me, or society's approval?" Jungkook leaned forward slightly and I blinked.

We stayed that way staring at each other for a second and then he pulled away and sighed deeply.

"I've already chosen, I. I'm not pushing you, but I hope you'll pick me." He said quietly.

I stared into the night, thoughtfully. So easy, I told myself. So easy to turn around right now and kiss Jungkook, tell him that I didn’t deserve so much happiness. That my heart was so light, I wanted to spout wings and fly.

So easy but so frightening.

The wind picked up somewhere and somehow a draught found its way inside and I shivered a little, only to have a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulder. Jungkook snuggled in with me and we huddled together

My thoughts tripped over each other  and I wanted to run away but I stayed still, letting the gentle lap of the water against my toe, calm my inner turmoil.

"It's just you and me." Jungkook whispered, " Right now. Just you and me. Let's pretend we're the only ones on the planet."

I turned around to the brunette in surprise but Jungkook's looking out into the water, lit by a full moon from the skylight.

"Just you and me. " He said absently and I nodded, looping my fingers with Jungkook's. We sat in silence, pressed against each other and I waited till the moon slipped behind a cloud before turning around, slightly, and pressing my lips against Jungkook's.

It's soft and very short, over before it even begins and Jungkook smiled into the kiss.

  Explicit Content : 

       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook teasingly pushes her back and Areum falls back against the soft mattress, like she's been shoved. She melts into the kiss and then Jungkook’s lips move away, dragging his teeth and tongue over the exposed expanse of her neck, lightly sucking and biting and then soothing with his tongue. Areum gasps and struggles and fights for air, before dragging their lips together again.

Jungkook kisses her until she's splayed flat against the bed, eyes wide and lost and lips parted, blush staining her cheeks and then Jungkook's reaching out to the table and pulling his camera , snapping a picture.

"You're such a weirdo!" Areum laughs , too turned on to be annoyed.

"No, just a man. A man in love." Jungkook leans down, pushing his hips down into hers and she gasps at the friction. They make quick work of their jeans and suddenly its skin on skin and she's not sure if she's doing this right.

"Jungkook.. I..I.."

"Hey, relax. I got you." Jungkook holds her close, just holding her, cradling her almost and the familiar words smooth away her apprehensions and he's moving closer, trying to pull more sounds out of her, his lips tracing the line of her chest, tongue swirling around one nipple before moving down and down, dipping lightly into her belly button.

And then the camera is tossed to the side, Jungkook flipping them over with ease , his lips moving down , tongue dipping into the curve of her waist down and then further down , lightly licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves near her center and Areum's pretty certain she loses her mind at that point.

"You're amazing." He whispers, and she nearly flies off the bed when Jungkook slides a single digit in, slowly , so slowly. She’s wet and ready but her body is still stuck in auto pilot and she wants to close her legs instinctively.

"Relax for me." Jungkook whispers, lips close to her ear, licking and teasing .

"I'll make it good. Just relax for me." Jungkook says again,  gently, lapping at her neck and Areum unclenches her thighs letting him work his way in, sighing when the slide becomes a little more easy and a little more familiar.

"So beautiful." Jungkook whispers and Areum laughs, shaking her head.

"It's dark, you can't even see-"

"I can’t see but I can feel you. i can feel you and you’re so fucking gorgeous." He slips another finger in and curls his fingers against the walls of her insides and the gentle press of the pad of his finger is too much and not enough , all at once. Her head falls back into the pillow, all coherency leaving her body in a single whoosh of breath.

"Look at me. Only me." She whispers when Jungkook thrusts into her for the first time and Jungkook nods shakily and he pushes in, leaving her trembling at the ache and the pain and wanting to cry out, but she swallows it all down because she knows it’s going to get better .

"Don't wander off. " Areum whispers, pulling him down for a kiss and Jungkook pushes in deeper, earning a gasp. He wishes he could explain, that he can't ever think of anything but her because she is the perfect dream.

“I love this. I love you. “ she whispered and he had to physically restrain himself from burying himself to the hilt inside her. Her body was still getting used to him. He didn’t want to hurt her but God, she felt so amazing around him. the heat and wetness driving him crazy in a way that couldn’t be explained.

“Hold me tight.”

And she did.

With her arms and her legs and her body and her.....everything.

When she clenched around him, his mind went blissfully blank, her orgasm hitting him like an earth shattering, bone melting , heart stopping explosion of bliss.  

He fell against her, careful not to crush her with his weight and rolled to the side gathering her close.

Someday he would hurt her, he was sure of it. He was an idiot after all and he knew he would find a way to muck this up and ruin it for them but for now, he wasn’t going to think about any of that.

For now, he was going to enjoy the intimacy of making love to the woman he loved.

 Author’s Note : Hope you guys liked it! it was supposed to be very angsty but its really not lol....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sockendrache]

Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone.  “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.  

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

[rumblelibrary]

*whispers* oh, hi!

can I request a little thing with Niki Lauda and his beautiful curls? Maybe Niki and the reader going on a roadtrip together and stoping somewhere for the night? 🥺👀

Bouncy Road Trip [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Words Count: 1.6k

Author’s note: It is my first time venturing into Niki’s mind, I hope I did him and your request right ❤️

“Well, it seems a bit late to think again” he remarked, as always his character would strike, even with you.

You chuckled, too used to his antics to really get mad about it.The two of you decided to go to the next race by car, something easy, a road trip to get there directly, enjoy the city, the food, have time to study the car and the track while others are still enjoying the whole set of parties and interviews that followed the race that just ended.

“You were happy to miss Hunt’s drunk hugs” you told him and he responded with a little shake of his shoulders, a parody of a shiver.You came to the idea that he enjoyed to play this rivalry thing way more than he admitted. 

It was something that gave him an edge, something to joke about easily in order to keep his focus on the cars and the changes he wanted to do.You got into the car, you’d drive first because he was just out of the race and wasn’t up to do it again.You were hyped to do the road trip, to be together in such a small space, to be allowed to be so close for such a long time.

You put on your favourite radio station, settled comfortably your seat and wore your sunglasses.

Road trip mood: on.

The sad part was how Niki road trip mood was: nap.

He was rightfully tired after the race, after the nervous days that came before it, but you couldn’t help to feel a bit upset about it.It was typical Niki, reasonable priorities over feelings, he probably didn’t even suspect all those expectations you set up for such a small event.So you drove quality, enjoyed the music and the soft breeze, you looked at him from time to time as he snored lightly, his soft curls unruly moving over his face.

Focus, the road is ahead.

After a couple of hours you felt a warm hand cover yours changing the gear.

“If you want to kill this car you could just run into a tree and make it quicker” Niki grumbled sleepily straightening his posture cracking his neck from side to side.

“Where are we?” He asked as he picked the map rubbing his eyes with his hand as you pointed at it on the map and you smirked

“Good morning anyway sleepyhead” you said shaking your head lightly.Usual Niki.He studied the map silently picking a bottle of water you stacked on side to have a sip, his unruly curls bouncing lightly catching your eyes once more.

“You have seen the race, didn’t you?”You were surprised by the question “of course”

“Do you think he deserved it? Honest to God, I just need an honest opinion of somebody that is utterly deficient of keeping a car for good”

You let out a breathy chuckle staring ahead, it was a compliment and you knew it, it was just his way of complimenting you, to tell you that he knows you have no bias.

“I think he didn’t, but around the beginning he did got the best of your attention” you say after a moment “I mean, he provokes you always and your starts are always a bit off, you’re not in the right mind, I can see how you change along the race and then you show your true colours”

He listens and doesn’t add anything.Maybe you have offended him, maybe not, he rarely lets you know.“At the next gas station let’s stretch our legs a bit, I am hungry” he says and you nod quietly.

When at the station you went to the bathroom first as Niki brought a couple of sandwiches and some snack, along with more water.

“Liquorice, for real?” You ask him looking inside of the bag

 “So you can avoid smoking and pestering the car and your lungs” he groans back as he ate quietly looking at you.You look at him as there’s no aggression from him, it is just Niki worrying for your health, in Niki’s way.He is still upset about coming second, again. It was starting to rub him in the wrong way.

“You know, I have seen there’s this exhibition in the local museum, we should see that, on a free afternoon while the mechanics apply the changes you like, I read that the museums here are open until 10 pm in summer”

He looks at you and nods slowly  “Only if you play the guide”

“Sounds like a deal then” you smirk and he makes half of a smile, he is content.You move close to him as your hand moves toward those unruly curls that scream to be touched, but he stands up throwing the trash in the closest bin.

The second half of the drive before your stop at the motel is on Niki, but you can’t sleep. Sure you put on your sunglasses and got nuzzled on the passenger seat but you couldn’t look away from him, everything was perfect: from the relaxation of driving at a comfort speed to the engine singing for him, the smoothness of the drive made it feel unreal, like you weren’t even moving but you were only still. You moved up taking your book, you opened it up, it was a poetry book but one of your favourite female authors, you leaned your back comfortably as you started reading. Niki looked at you moving his beautiful long fingers over the radio lowering the volume.

“Read out loud”

You were surprised by such a request, but you did.He listened, he was passive but focused on those words letting those unroll over him.You could see his mind was feeling guilty, anger for losing soon turning into that quiet silence he pulled himself into, the guilty one.He had high standard for himself and for others, but on himself he was the hardest and, most of the times, the cruelest. 

The sun was going down and you put the book away staring at him once more, you leaned in, his eyes showing that sad frustration and your hand moved on its own mean over an action you have been craving throughout the day slowly reaching for his head and digging your fingers into his hair. A soft breath of relaxation left his lips, your fingers trailing through the bottom of his head just above his neck and up again.

He rolls lightly his shoulders not commenting your action, but he is clearly enjoying it. So you keep going, you brush your fingers slow and nice, you pull the curls a bit only to make more room to your fingers, you move your hand up on his temple and slowly scratch on the side of his temple going back into the curls.He licks his lips lightly relaxing over your attentions. The radio is still low, nobody is letting out a sound.

“Fuck”

He curses as he yanks the wheel suddenly and you almost get thrown on the back of the car by the sudden motion.He almost missed the exit to go to your motel.You settle yourself back in place quietly, bend down to recollect your book that flew on the car floor.

Once he parked Niki was the first to leave the car to collect your bags, you leaned your back on the seat staring in front of you nibbling on the bottom of your lip. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment, you never knew with Niki. Maybe you fucked it up.

Once you settled into your room you got some room service, the tv was on some old 50’s film in black and white, Niki digging on some chicken salad finally in his comfortable night clothes and a night vest.You were used to the silences, you were used to share those with him, but sometimes it was gutting, you kept wondering if you messed up. If you did something wrong or what was the thing you did wrong. Your own insecurities eating you alive. Once he finished his dinner you showered putting on some night clothing and resting on the big bed beside him as you watched the movie.Then he slowly moved down resting his head on your lap.He looked up at you from that position, the blue light of the screen the only source of illumination.You stare back at his eyes moving your head on side with a little smirk, it looks like somebody enjoyed it back in the car.

But you don’t tease him, you learned not to, and you just go back to that process. He closes his eyes enjoying it. Your hands also enjoying to be back to unruly those wild curls he always tamed, the freedom to be able to do something so simple and so intimate.

“You know I need you right?” He says softly, not even opening one eye, you keep touching his curls, but this time you let him be the one without confirms.He opened his eyes as he slowly looked up at you raising onto his arms.

“You’re my soft side, you’re the art and the beauty and the poetry. I cannot be that, I am not that, but you are, and you, you do me good, you do me better, make me better”

You smile, because he never speaks up, but when he does, he just blows you away.You lean in for a well earned kiss, your hand slowly slipping behind his neck as he pushes you down on the bed.

Tags: @cazzyimagines @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing

Let me know if anybody wants to be added and I will 💕

[discotreque]

Disco 4.07: ...But to Connect

Well, that was a terrible episode... JUST KIDDING LOL, I LOVED THIS ONE TOO.

Look, there’s plenty of bad-faith criticism of Discovery out there, and sadly too many good-faith bad takes, and way too much boring pissbaby whining—but there are also plenty of valid complaints to make about this show, and I’ve been making plenty of them myself, on this very blog, for three-and-a-half seasons.

The—let’s say “uneven”—quality to date isn’t exactly a surprise, given its clusterfuck of a production history; the well-documented turmoil and turnover in the writer’s room has had an obvious and undeniable impact on the quality of the narrative. (You could even say they’ve had a long road, getting from there to here.)

Everything about this show—the direction, production design, performances, editing, VFX, music—has always been better than the scripts, but it’s not like the scripts were entirely without potential. In fact, the sheer amount of unrealized potential has always been the most frustrating thing to me about Star Trek: Discovery.

Well, I guess I have to find a new most-frustrating thing (and experto credite, I will), because holy fucking shit, y’all… this is what I’ve been saying Disco could be. It’s still not flawless—and they’ve apparently ditched subtlety as thoroughly as they ditched the 23rd century—but I do. not. care. I’m getting one thousand percent more of what I want from this season than I got from the last three seasons combined, and don’t get me wrong—I liked Season 2, and I really liked Season 3—but Season 4 feels like a completely different show. A much, much, much better show.

Buckle up for mid-season spoilers:

Sorry Michael, but my cat Nora wouldn’t fuck with that little holo-toy either—based on her reaction to laser pointers, she needs something she can sink her teeth into—literally—once she catches it. If she can’t pretend to sever its spinal cord, my picky little princess is not interested.

I guess “The Measure of a Woman” would have been too on-the-nose as a title for this episode? Jokes aside, I like how they seem to be positioning Zora as a Data-esque character: the AI who’s a sweet, well-meaning nerd, who’s also still learning organic social graces. Also, the problem with her attaining sentience isn’t that she’ll turn malicious, or pursue her own inscrutable cyber-agenda, but that she loves the crew so much she’s making irrational choices to protect them? AAAAAAAAA 😭😭😭

It figures that Dr. Kovich—who wears glasses and a tie in the 32nd century like a full-time Ren Faire weirdo—also uses a QWERTY-ass-looking keyboard on his holo-computer.

And then he dropped his whole CV in that scene like Michelle Paradise is literally reading this blog? (Ha ha, but also… 🥺👉👈)

Cleveland Booker, I love you like only a lesbian can love a fictional man created by another lesbian, but could you please at least skim The Art of War like, once? If Species 10-C can harness the power of hypergiant stars to—I’m guessing here, based on the themes of this season—accidentally slap entire planets to pieces, there probably isn’t much you can accomplish against them with sheer brute force, my guy. I’m also thinking about the wasp nest on my garage 15 years ago that I was going to ignore until winter (out of laziness), and then one of them stung me on the ear while I was putting my bike away and those fuckers were gone by the weekend. If it’s really a five-minute solution, what’s to lose by asking “Why did you blow up my planet” real quick before trying to kick them in the nuts through subspace?

A real delight to have Phumzile Sitole back as Adira’s old boss, General Ndoye, and in a nifty little hat too! Jonathan Frakes, who directed her previous episode, said in an interview that she’d been planning to quit acting when she booked the gig, but she had such a great time on Disco that she decided to stick with it. So it’s extra wholesome to see her again! I especially loved every time someone proposed violence at the forum and the camera just cut to Ndoye silently nodding like “fuck yeah, blow stuff up.” 😂

President Rillak evaded my expectations once again when Michael suggested she had a personal stake in Earth rejoining the Federation, and instead of hiding behind a bland talking point, Rillak said quite candidly that she was both personally and politically invested. (And it turns out she’s got mommy issues too—take a drink!)

I frickin’ loved how Kovich insisted on… uh-oh, here it comes again… absolute candor when sorting out the issues between Zora and the crew. Emotional honesty: it’s not just a good idea, it’s an overarching narrative theme! (Plus: “We always mean well to ourselves, Captain. The problem is what that means for others.” Ooooof.)

I’m pretty sure that they mentioned Control more times in this episode than in the entirety of Season 3.

Gray and Adira standing up for Zora made me cry happy tears. Say what you will, but I think we’re in good hands with Gen ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha here.

The writers are lucky I don’t mind a little massive amount of didactic speechifying in my science fiction, because for real, I’ve read Peter Watts books that were less transparent about giving every single character an entire TED Talk about every relevant philosophical viewpoint on the table. (Blindsight is still my favourite vampire novel, btw.)

I’m glad nobody except Stamets in full Writer’s Devil’s Advocate mode really entertained Zora’s failsafe solution. “If you stop trusting me, just go ahead and summarily execute me” is uhhhh not really how we treat each other around here, Zora!

Just as I was starting to get sick of Tarka’s shit, he dropped his motive for attacking the DMA—stealing its power source to leave this universe entirely and find his “““friend”””—and Jesus did I ever pivot fast from “this chaotic-neutral mad scientist isn’t quite as endearing as he thinks he is” to just, like, sobbing in my kitchen. I’d say it hit me out of nowhere, but (a) the score reminded me of Jerry Goldsmith’s Star Trek: First Contact theme, one of my favourite pieces of Star Trek music, and (b) I’ve been 1,000 miles from the love of my life for 18 months now because of this fucking pandemic. Tarka might be the most relatable character on this show for me right now. If he’s telling the truth, I hope he gets what he wants—and if he was lying to manipulate Book, I hope Grudge eats his eyeballs.

Speaking of music, I’m pretty sure the theme that played during Paul and Michael’s overlapping speeches has appeared in this season already—I remember finding it unusual to hear so much non-diagetic piano in Star Trek—and maybe even where it changes into the main Disco theme and the woodwinds come in—but combined with the dialogue (or double monologue or whatever) this time around, it really, really hit me.

I did feel like Michael (and/or Rillak?) could have leaned harder on the point that, if first contact with Species 10-C did go awry, they could immediately deploy Tarka’s destructive solution anyway. I’m sure a lot of the pro-violence faction would have agreed that approaching 10-C with a carrot and a stick that big in their back pocket would be a logical move, right? (I know, I know, that’s not what this episode is about, but it was nagging at me the entire time.)

I guess the conflict over leaving Felix at the prison the other week was foreshadowing for Michael and Book being on opposite sides of the vote here. And once again, I’m pretty firmly on one of the sides—Michael’s, this time—but I also feel like I understand the other side, and how they got to their position both intellectually and emotionally, and even though I don’t agree with those conclusions, even though they make my heart feel heavy and sad… I can’t not respect it.

Also, shoutout to the realism of finding yourself on the other side of that kind of ideological gulf from someone you love. There are no good solutions there; the best you can do, I think, is be completely honest with each other and yourselves. And the worst part about Michael and Book’s situation is that they’re already doing that, and I think it’s already done everything it can. 💔 Additional shoutout to the face journeys of both Sonequa Martin-Green and David Ajala for making me feel like my heart got kicked in the stomach.

Anyway. It cracked me up when they established Zora’s personhood by locating her inner clip show device—so we know she’s at least as sentient as Riker, that’s a start. AND SHE’S JOINING STARFLEET??? THIS IS LIT-ER-AL-LY EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED, OMFGGGG 😭😭😭😭😭😭

…though I guess that means Zora doesn’t need Gray as a permanent therapist, awwww. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, and it’s a storyline that makes sense for him and Adira, but ohhhhh, that goodbye scene was bittersweet. (I’m glad they’ve figured out a way to write queer characters off this show without killing them, lmao.) And Adira knowing, before Gray even had to break it to them, what he wanted to do, and being whole-heartedly supportive and encouraging, was just unspeakably sweet. I’m like twice Adira’s age; how are they such a role model for me?

Another thing I wanted, never thought I’d get, and appear to be actually getting in spades? A genuine romance storyline with T’Rina and Saru! And according to his Ready Room interview, it was Doug Jones’s own idea? He picked up on some Sa’Rina ~vibes~ when he read the script—vibes that the writers apparently hadn’t put there on purpose—and mentioned them to Tara Rosling, who saw them too, and they played a little bit of tension in their Season 3 scenes… and then the writers picked it up for Season 4! I love that so, so much.

I seriously can’t stop laughing at the parallels between Book’s decision to go off with Tarka to destroy the DMA and—spoilers for the Netflix reboot of She-Ra, I guess?—Glimmer choosing to activate the Heart of Etheria at the end of that show’s Season 4. In both cases you have a good-hearted but impulsive character who’s suffered a profound loss and feels a responsibility to stop that from happening again… and tries to do so by unleashing a horrific and destructive power that they don’t understand and can’t control, endangering everyone’s lives and alienating their loved ones. (Also, in both cases, you have me yelling at my TV at 6:30 in the morning.)

Honestly, continuing to parallel Glimmer might be the best outcome for Book: spending the first half of Season 5 in a redemption arc apologizing to Michael (and Grudge) would be better than what feels much more likely for him right now: getting swatted out of space by Species 10-C like—well, like a wasp.

Sparkly princess feelings aside, the “installation” of the spore drive into Book’s programmable-matter interface was by far one of the coolest “oh shit, we’re in the future-future” moments that Disco 2.0 has done yet. More of that too, please. (Finally, my last @ for Book: if you don’t want people calling your ship a “floating bachelor pad,” the very least you could do is give it a NAME they could use instead.)

I wrote this about last year’s finale:

A lot of people were worried Vance was going to turn out to be evil, but I was more worried he was going to end up making a heroic sacrifice for (and/or inspired by) the Disco crew—and he sort of does, but it’s not his life he sacrifices, it’s peace with the Emerald Chain. If the only path to “survival” is as the fraudulently legitimizing façade of benevolence over a corrupt, capitalistic criminal empire, well… that’s the destruction of everything the Federation has ever stood for anyway.

And that’s, by my count, Star Trek: Discovery’s third consecutive season-ending reminder that our principles and ideals, our better natures, must inform every decision we make—every single one, in war and in peace—because a victory that costs you the ability to look at yourself in the mirror isn’t going to feel like a victory at all.

Well. Not only do they seem to be going 4-for-4 on this (profoundly important and perennially relevant) theme, this year they didn’t even wait for the season finale to have Michael Burnham make a big speech about it.

Does that put the back half of this season in uncharted thematic territory? I guess we have to wait five weeks (ughhhhh) to find out. But according to the trailer I saw after the credits, we’ll at least get to see Michael Burnham in some kind of civilian setting tossing around gambling chips like a total fucking badass… so who knows, it might even be worth the wait.

[iceeckos12]

and he sees dawn before the rest of the world

or: a fucked up little au of 200. intended to be unsettling so just be warned warnings for: unreality (i think that’s the appropriate term? please lmk if not), implied self harm, fucked up relationship dynamics; lmk if i should tag anything else

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face, as though he could stop the barrage of sound just by covering his eyes. His alarm was unsympathetic to his whinging, continuing to scream its daily mourning dirge, grieving the end of another period of blessed rest. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up, christ…”

He reached clumsily for the phone on his bedside table, only for his fingers to scrabble uselessly around the ghost of its presence. He was momentarily so stymied by the absence that it took him longer than it should’ve to remember that he’d moved it to his desk, to prevent him from giving into the temptation to hit the snooze button just one more time.

Letting out another slew of curses, Martin shuffled onto his other side and reached for

A jaw-cracking yawn near split Martin’s face in two as he hunched over the gleaming tea kettle, steam beginning to pour from the spout. He shuffled his feet, eyes meandering sightlessly over the cow-shaped mug drying on the counter, the cluster of crumbs that he must’ve missed when cleaning up after dinner last night.

He hated mornings. Maybe it was the preemptive dread he felt at the thought of going to work; maybe it was because he hated having to be upright this early in the morning. Either way, he felt strangely disconnected from his morning routine, each motion carried out with habitual, distant efficiency as his thoughts raced along like a hamster on a wheel just below the surface.

It...was a bit silly for him to be worried about work, though. The stuff he was doing was interesting, and he had the loveliest coworkers a guy could ask for. They’d even offered to teach him a thing or two about artifact restoration once they learned the truth about his CV.

He drew himself up to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, clouded sigh mingling with the fog from the boiling water. Things were going well. Hell, he was actually going to get top surgery sometime in the next year or so, which was amazing considering his teenage self would’ve laughed at the very idea of being out.

There was no reason to dread going to work.

Martin carefully poured the water into the mug, letting the tea steep before adding a splash of milk and sugar. When he picked the mug up, the heat from the tea had bled into the ceramic, so warm as to be uncomfortable against the delicate skin of his palms. He didn’t let go, just kept on gripping the mug, like trying to contain the last gasp of a dying star.

Martin stared around his kitchen. The waterstains on the inside of the cow mug slowly evaporating into the still air; the crumbs that had sat there for who knows how long. The empty, blank face of his fridge.

Martin lifted the mug, and steam collected on his glasses as his breath wafted over the surface of the tea. He drew away, waiting for the lenses to clear, before leaning in for another sip.

His reflection stared back at him, a monochrome facsimile of his face rimmed in white smoke, and he recoiled, the mug slipping from

Working nine to five, what a way to make a living…

Martin stared out the window, his hand pillowed in the palm of his hand as Dolly Parton crooned in his ears. Split second by split second, he let his eyes catch on a point in the darkened surroundings, only letting his vision blur into incoherence when that fixed point whipped out of sight. It was a game he sometimes played when he got bored of reading or playing cards on his phone.

The old woman across from him let out a quiet grunt and shuffled, drawing his attention back inside the train. She was a gnarled old thing, bowed by the gravity of grief and time and life, though Martin couldn’t say for certain whether it was one well-lived.

Barely getting by, it’s all taking and no giving...

That was the thing about people watching: Martin was never quite sure if it was disrespectful to make assumptions about a person’s life based on a passing glimpse. He could never be sure if the person with the grumpy expression had a foul attitude, or if they were just a kind person on the tail-end of a truly awful day.

The old woman was knitting though, and Martin generally found it safe to assume that knitters were nice people.

For a moment he thought about taking out his headphones and striking up a conversation; the pattern looked devilishly complicated, and as a beginning knitter, he always appreciated tips. There was an unfinished set of fingerless green gloves in the back of his closet; it was easy for hands to get cold in the Archives, and the color suited

“Alright, Martin?”

Martin startled, his pen clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Sasha perched on the edge of his desk, grinning like the cat who’d just eaten the canary. Or, he thought she was. His eyes kept skittering from one corner of her face to the other, like a smooth stone skipping across a lake.

“Uh…” Frowning slightly, he let his gaze travel over the shelves of books, the humming lights, his cluttered workstation. He removed his glasses so he could rub at his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Probably just the stress. “Yeah—yeah! Sorry, I’ve been distracted all morning.”

Martin got the impression of Sasha’s grin being tempered with genuine concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Just...work, and my mum…” he gave an expansive you know sort of gesture at life in general. “Thank god the weekend’s coming. Anyway, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come get drinks with Mel and Tim and I after work, but…” She cut him a meaningful glance, the bottomless holes where her eyes should be boring bright spotlights into the back of his skull. “We’d understand if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Is Georgie coming?”

Sasha shrugged. “Probably. Mel didn’t say so, but they’ve been all over each other since they started dating.”

Martin laughed. “True.” Tried to gauge how he was feeling, whether or not he was up to a night of socializing. You should go, a strangely posh little voice murmured in the back of his head, and he found himself saying, “Actually yeah, I would like to come. I could use a night out.”

Sasha clapped him on the shoulder, and the impact rattled through him like a gong being struck. The echoes of it vibrated all the way down to his toes. “Excellent.”

Martin hesitated, and then, not entirely sure of what he was asking, “What about J

“Thanks for waiting with us,” Georgie said, smiling beatifically up at him. Passed out on her shoulder, Melanie let out a drunken snuffle and curled over, like she was thinking of climbing through the spaces of Georgie’s ribcage and sleeping in her chest cavity forever.

“Not a problem,” Martin replied, scratching the back of his neck.

To be honest, waiting with her was as much for his benefit as theirs. At first, he’d thought it was just stress; now, he was very sure that something was wrong. It wasn’t anything specific, or even bad; more like there was a sepia camera filter tinting the world dusty and nostalgic.

After his third drink, he’d looked into Tim’s laughing face and thought he might burst into tears. And he still didn’t know what Sasha was supposed to look like.

But he didn’t want to worry her, so he just bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his heels, even though the motion made his head spin that much worse.

(Maybe he needed to take a couple of days off. Have a lie-in. But that would—that would delay his work. The Institute’s work. Delays were bad; he felt strongly enough about that to carve it directly into his skin so that he’d never forget. He could roll down his sleeve and take a peek at it whenever his motivation slipped, like checking a watch for the time.)

For lack of anything else to say, he nodded toward Melanie. “She’s really out, huh?”

“She’s always been a lightweight.” Her tone was wry, but her eyes were soft and fond as she brushed Melanie’s bangs back from her face. “Never gets hungover though, the lucky bastard.”

“The nerve!” Martin said, affecting offense, which sent them right into another giggling fit.

Once he got his breath back, Martin mentioned offhand, “You know, considering how similar they are, I’m surprised that her and J̷̧̱̜͕͕̤͉̣̺̺̝͖̠̹̜͙̣͉̩̺̤̟͉͓̞̹̗́̆̂̋͆̊̎́͂̑͋̌͊͘̚͠ͅo̶̧̨͕̖͔̬̖̝̪͚̻̟̠̜̣̰̅n̶̥̉́̎͑̀͂͆̿̾͛̾̔̐͌́̅̂͂̒̆̐́͊̄̾̍̅̅͝

“Stop it!” Martin screamed, grabbing the mug from the counter and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall, scattering shards of ceramic across the floor. “I know

“What you’re doing,” Martin gripped the bathroom counter, ignoring the persistent ringing of his alarm, staring deeply into his reflection, “Stop it, stop it, nononon̴̡̡͚̮̠͙̻͔͎͈̜̓̈́̈́͜͜ͅǫ̸̯̠̱̖̲͙͍͎͒̇̑͒ṅ̶̨̩̳̩̝̹̳͎͈̬̦͆́̈́́͐̏̈́̕͝͝o̸̡̻̱̗̥̮̙̳̞͗̄͋̈́̀͝n̸̢̛̟͙̘̱̩͕̦̫̤̮͆͑̊͋́̂̽͜o̶̘̱̗̘̘͑̿͜ņ̶̥̞̠͕͓̠͔͚̮͈̬͕̀͗̄̓͑͑͛̕ͅő̸̮̫̓͌̾̌͋́̂̏̒̃̃̄̚n̵̗̫͕̺̻͔̭͖̉͒͗̀̈́̃̅o̴͓͉͉͗͋̎̕—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay—”

“No!” Martin shrieked, shoving Jon’s hands away, skittering backward across the broken and cracked stones of the Panopticon. Through the arched windows, the sky was a poisonous green and black, and multitudes of eyes orbited the room, watched his every movement with sickening fascination. “Just—stop.”

Luminous gaze weary and resigned, Jon did as he was bid, dropping back onto his heels.

Rubbing sweat and grime and tears from his face, breathing harshly through his mouth, Martin took a moment to remember where he was, why he was here. It always took a moment for everything to come back.

As though unable to keep silent any longer, Jon asked, “So what was it this time?”

“Don’t,” Martin hissed, dragging his hands through his greasy hair.

Though his expression went mulishly annoyed, Jon raised his hands placatingly, a silent, alright, you win. It was a familiar gesture, one that he’d done so many times while they were living in Scotland, while they were traveling the devastated landscape of the apocalypse. It made Martin ache for when things were simpler, when his heart didn’t just feel like one big bruise.

He gently set the thought aside, and turned a more assessing eye on the Panopticon. Normally the changes were insignificant, but something thick and red and black had started to coil around the windows, weaving in and out of the floor, cracking the stonework. Martin traced the strange things with his eyes, frowning—

“Christ, Jon,” he whispered in horrified realization. “Are...are those corpse roots?”

Jon bobbed his head. “They’ve long since overtaken the rest of London. It’s just us, now.”

Martin sucked in a long, frustrated breath through his teeth. There was no point trying to talk any sense into Jon, not after so long, and force would only result in immediately getting kicked back into that horrible dream world.

“And the others?”

Jon shrugged, tracing the cracks in the earth with his fingers. “Still alive, and living happily in the dream I made for them.” He didn’t say, unlike you, but the implication was so loud he might as well have screamed it.

“Shut up,” Martin muttered, pushing to his feet and limping to one of the windows.

Corpse roots, as far as the eye could see. They covered the city of London in a blanket of tangled black, so thick that it was impossible to see the buildings beneath.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, sagging against the side of the window, too tired to be angry.

When the silence persisted a second too long, Martin turned around to find Jon with his head tilted back, examining the corpse roots consuming what had once been the Beholding’s seat of power, expression distant and thoughtful. The eyes, ever-watching, never understanding, drifted closer, greedily drinking in the sight.

When Martin realized that Jon wasn’t planning on answering, he let out another sigh, ruffled his bangs away from his face, and said, “You’re never there.”

Jon’s gaze snapped to him with a laser-edged focus. “Sorry?”

“If you’re going to trap me in a dream,” Martin said, each syllable clipped and precise, “You could at least be there.”

Like it always did, Jon’s face crumpled, and he looked away. “...I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, we’re well past that and you know it!” Martin shrieked, striking his fist against the stone. “You made your fucking decision to damn the world, to hell with whatever we thought, the least you could do is stop hiding behind your pointless guilt and act like this is what you actually want!”

It would’ve been better, if Jon had simply become drunk with power and was no longer listening to reason. The fact that he’d made this same decision every single day with clear, unclouded eyes and sound judgement—as Jon the human, rather than Jon the lynchpin of the apocalypse, pupil of the Eye—made Martin want to scream.

“I do want it!” Jon snapped back, then quieter, “I do.” He looked up at the corpse roots again, eyes going misty. “I just—I should witness every second of misery and pain that I’m causing. I don’t deserve to just...forget.”

Wind snapped and howled around them like a creature mad with rage, and Martin idly wondered what would happen to this world once Jon died. If it would all go back to the way it had been before, or if the shell of the apocalypse would remain until the end of time, a corpse husk of a reality warped beyond repair.

“You shouldn’t have to experience this alongside me though,” Jon continued, rallying. “So I would really appreciate it if you’d stop breaking your dreams.”

“Tough,” Martin snapped back, folding his arms obstinately over his chest.

“You could be happy!” Jon reiterated, stabbing his index finger into the palm of his hand. “You could just...live your life! Forget! There’s no point in being here.”

“It’s a deal, remember? Where you go, I go. Fuck you very much, but I don’t break my promises.”

Jon stared at him for one beat, then another—and then promptly burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Martin stared at him, utterly bewildered, as the laughing slowly began to dissolve into desperate, heaving sobs, as he began rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself in a mockery of comfort.

“I miss you,” Jon gasped out, half-crazed. “So much. I miss you every day even though you’re right in front of me. But I can’t go to you, because I don’t deserve to, not when I’m the one who trapped you here. I’m everything that’s wrong with the world. I always have been.”

“Jon,” Martin sighed, low and tired.

Jon buried his face into his knees. “No, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t forgive me just because you pity me, that’s not what I—I don’t—”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Martin shook his head. “Fine. You’re an asshole, and I hate you. But it’s like I said.” He gestured toward the Panopticon, the roots, the poisonous sky. “When has deserving ever mattered?”

Jon lifted his face from his knees, though his gaze stayed rooted to the floor. “...I suppose.”

“Right,” Martin agreed. “I’ve accepted that you’re not going to change your mind, but...at the very least, I don’t want to die alone. So can you please just…”

There was a long, weighted pause.

They’d had arguments like this what felt like hundreds of times before. Martin begging for Jon to change his mind, Jon refusing with that same resigned, determined expression on his face, before sending Martin back into his dreams.

Maybe it was because Martin wasn’t asking him to change his mind this time. Maybe it was because they were so close to the end of all things, and soon they’d be the last two people on earth. Maybe it was because Jon was tired, had been for so, so long, and he had won anyway, so there was no point in fighting any longer.

“Alright,” Jon whispered.

…

…

...

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face.

Somewhere in the far distance, the toilet flushed. A moment later, a pair of feet padded lightly into the room, hesitated at the edge of the bed, and then made their way over to the desk. The alarm abruptly went silent.

Martin uncovered his eyes and grinned up at Jon as he tentatively slid back between the covers, every movement careful and deliberate, like he was reading stage directions from a script.

“Look at Mr. Workaholic, having a lie-in,” Martin teased, pulling Jon into his arms and inhaling the scent of his coconut shampoo. “Must be the end of the world, or something.”

Jon stiffened for just a moment, before turning around and burying his face into Martin’s chest. “Or something.”

[jemmahazelnut]

Dark Écriture

Summary: The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

Or: the story of how Freed lived with his demonic magic over the years. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, unnamed character deaths, morally ambiguous actions.

Notes: This is a story about Freed, his dark past and his cruel side.

Thanks to oofenflugen who has beta read my fanfic. Without his help I would never have published it. Check out his blog @cygnus-arts to see his art. He also has a profile on AO3 oofen_flugen where you can find his fanfics.

Hope you like it!

Dark Écriture

-Year X777, Dark Écriture: Death-

(16-year-old Laxus, 13-year-old Freed)

Freed had promised not to do it again. He promised it only a few months earlier, but there was no way he could keep that promise to the Master. Not when he saw those children locked up in the cells and the instruments of torture surrounding them, not when he saw the man’s cruel face, not when he heard the whimpering of the children. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hold back his strength, much less the hatred that was beginning to rise and fill him.

Freed almost didn’t realize it, but he subconsciously raised his sword in front of him. He hardly noticed the way the Master’s grandson stared at him. He almost didn’t realize the demonic aura that enveloped him and choked the oxygen in the room. Mentally, he knew it was happening. He knew that he was breaking a promise he had made, and in doing so, he was doing something terrible that -maybe, just maybe- he would regret. But he couldn’t afford to worry about it.

The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

His magic caused his hair to rise. Freed's fringe lifted and exposed his face, leaving his black eye uncovered. His body burned, and he felt the pure hatred concentrated in his eye. His mind focused on a single thought.

“Death,” Freed hissed, unconsciously, as if his lips had moved on their own.

A deadly silence fell. It was as if the whole world had been silent for a moment. He no longer heard the whimpering children, the fighting upstairs, the voice of the guild leader, or that of the Master’s son. He heard nothing, and it was unreal.

A moment later the magic shot out with all its power out of his body, passed his guildmate, and struck the enemy. The dark wizard clawed at his chest, desperately trying to breathe. His body twitched, and he fell back to the ground, continuing to jerk, causing his leg to thump erratically against the wall. It was a terrible sight, and Freed was enjoying every moment of it. The dark mage's eyes filled with terror and widened. His drool poured and mixed with his blood staining the floor. The veins in his neck swelled.

It was magnificent. It was what Freed wanted, pure evil. It was what the man deserved.

It ended too quickly. In a few seconds, the man stilled, reducing himself to a corpse. Freed’s magic faded, and the ambiance of the room returned. The distant sounds of fighting and whimpering only brought Freed exhaustion.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, sword slipping from his fingers, forcing Freed to lean on his hands. Even if the spell had only lasted for a few seconds, Freed felt as if he had been fighting for hours. Sweat coated his body, and he struggled to catch his breath.

He couldn’t see the shocked gaze of the Master’s son. Freed didn't bother to check that the man was dead. He knew it was impossible.

He tried to stand up but staggered, exhausted in a way he’d only experienced a few times before.

“You killed him,” said the Master’s son. Freed smiled. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, I did, and it was wonderful. Instead, Freed stood silently, realizing what Laxus Dreyar must be thinking.

No. It wasn’t okay. He had to go back, back to a safe place, go back to being Freed Justine. He was no longer Freed the Dark. He was no longer a killer, no longer evil. He was a member of Fairy Tail.

That awareness immediately brought him back down to earth, and he felt nausea rise in him. What had he done? He advanced towards Dreyar but staggered again and was forced to lean against the bars of a cell while he tried to regain his strength and balance.

He had broken a promise. The only promise he had made to the Fairy Tail Master. He had broken it within a few months. What the hell had he done? He began to feel the terror rising in his back, terrified that everything he had done to change had been in vain. Nausea made him double over, and Freed coughed with tears stinging his eyes.

He was a monster. A killer. Just a cursed child.

He heard Dreyar’s footsteps approaching, and Freed looked up, swallowing hard.

“I’ll take responsibility for everything,” Freed said, petrified to hear his guildmate's incoming judgment, Dreyar, however, tilted his head to the side, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

Freed blinked in confusion.

“Excuse me?”.

“What spell is that?” Dreyar asked again. “I want to learn it”.

Freed’s eyes widened and he took a step back, straightening his back and avoiding his gaze. Was he crazy?

“You don’t want to do that,” he said. There was no way that the Master’s grandson wanted to learn how to do something like this.

“I want to know what spell it is,” Dreyar insisted. Freed shook his head.

“You can’t learn it anyway. Magic is tied to my eye,” he said. He saw Dreyar grimace and Freed turned to the children who were still locked up and crying. “I’ll tell the Master personally, for now we have to free them.”

“You don’t need to tell the old man,” Dreyar retorted. “Besides, the bastard deserved it,” he added as he opened a cell. Freed gave him a surprised look, but he didn’t say anything else. The mission wasn’t over yet.

-Year X778, Dark Écriture: Darkness-

(17-year-old Laxus, 14-year-old Freed)

Freed wanted to stop. He wanted to cry, scream and stop those attacks. He wanted to kill that darkness, kill that agony, kill the feelings suffocating him. But the only thing he succeeding in killing, were his teammates. It didn’t matter how much he fought; it didn’t matter how much he tried to free himself from the grip. The darkness enveloped him, and he was sinking inside it, letting the demon prevail over him.

Freed felt tears sting his eyes but, he was unable to escape. He couldn’t even control the tears pooling at his chin. He couldn’t do anything; his body was completely out of his control. He could only watch. Watch and suffer from every blow Laxus dealt. Watch and suffer for every blow the demon dealt.

Freed felt small, helpless, useless. But he was just that. He was just a cursed child, just a monster, just a killer. Freed put his hands to his ears in an attempt to drown out the thoughts, but nothing could stop them. Now they were there, they were constantly repeating themselves, filling his brain, echoing through every nerve.

Stop it, stop it!

But they were right; he was a monster. A monster, a murderer, he deserved that pain, he deserved to die, he deserved to sink, he deserved to disappear.

“Fucking hell, do you wanna get goddamn control back?”

Freed heard a scream and saw flashes of electricity piercing him everywhere. They stung and burned, leaving him in excruciating pain. Freed opened his eyes biting back tears, only for another punch hit him, with Laxus’ magic building stronger and stronger in ever more acute pain.

“Stupid kid, what the fuck are you doing, huh?” the voice growled again, and Freed looked up, seeing his teammate keep fighting him. Laxus was right, what the fuck was he doing? Crying and letting the demon seize control? No, he was stronger than that, he was better than that. He wouldn’t let the demon kill his team. He was a member of Fairy Tail, the Captain of the Raijinshuu, the bodyguard of Laxus Dreyar. He had to protect all three. It was his promise. No matter what, he wasn’t going to kill them.

Freed scrambled to stand but was halted by another shock. He gritted his teeth trying to bear it best he could and tried to rise from the darkness. It swelled around him and pulled him down, leaving him suffocated in the darkness. But he could still reach towards the light. Freed knew it. There was always a way to escape.

He growled and forced himself back up, ignoring the pain of lightning and the burning. He just had to think about his teammates and the guild he was a part of. He had to think of his friends, Bickslow and Evergreen. Freed ascended and for a moment stopped the blow the demon wanted to throw, only to sink into its control again.

The demon struck once more. Laxus had wavered for a moment, and the demon was more than happy to take that opportunity. Freed gritted his teeth again, scrambling a second time. The demon was launching another attack but as soon as Freed regained control he held it back. He was already sinking again, but the shock of electricity convinced him to grit his teeth and stay aloft. Then he closed his eyes and pushed all the darkness into himself, into the back of his mind, into his heart, and his soul.

When he finally felt it grow small, he forced himself to open his eyes again, only to see two orange eyes staring at him doubtfully. Laxus had a ready fist with electricity crackling.

“Hope you’re you again,” he growled, and Freed nodded.

“I’m back,” he whispered and Laxus lowered his fist.

Freed realized that he was collapsed on the ground, Laxus at his side.

“Your demon is fucking awesome but you really have to learn to control it,” Laxus snapped as he walked away. Freed didn’t move. He still felt numb from the shocks, dizzy from the fight, and tired as if he had exhausted all of his energy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Bickslow and Evergreen rushed to his side and helped him sit up. Freed grimaced but held back a groan, even though he could feel injuries covering his skin. It wasn’t the first time he fought Laxus, but God, that was painful. Freed glanced at Laxus and noticed that his leg was injured.

Freed reached out to him.

“I’ll heal your wound,” he said, partly to apologize, partly because he felt guilty. Laxus gave him a dirty look.

“It’s nothing,” he retorted grumpily and stood up. Freed noticed that he was staggering a bit and felt even worse. However, he didn’t dare say anything knowing his pride. Laxus glanced at him as Freed got to his feet, aided by Bickslow and Evergreen. “You should fight with that demon more often, he’s fucking strong,” Laxus said with a grin.

Freed looked up with widening eyes, wondering if he was crazy.

“You saw what happens if I do.”

Laxus rolled his eyes and snorted and took a step toward him. Laxus was close, close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. Freed looked up.

“This happens because you don’t train, kid. You just have to get stronger than the demon, that’s why he takes control.” Laxus turned away and walked away. “Now let’s get this fucking reward, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Freed couldn’t argue and followed Laxus, refusing the help of Bickslow and Evergreen. As he watched the blond with admiration and respect, a thought formed in his head. Maybe Laxus wasn’t all wrong, maybe the only thing he needed to resist the demon was training.

-Year X781, Freed the Dark-

(20-year-old Laxus, 17-year-old Freed)

“For a kid who wants to follow the rules, you break them quite often.”

Freed’s head jerked up in surprise at the voice. Laxus Dreyar. How did he find him? Freed made sure he wasn’t being followed by anyone when he walked away from Magnolia.

“How did you find me?” he asked aloud this time.

“Easy, I saw that the mission I wanted to take was gone and that you were gone too,” Laxus explained, sitting beside Freed. “Now you have to explain to me why you took a class S mission, especially when you know it’s forbidden,” Laxus commented, crossing his arms behind his head and throwing him a curious look.

“I’ll take full responsibility for my actions,” Freed assured, deflecting the question and staring straight ahead. He didn’t plan on coming back. He would complete that mission at any cost.

“Not if you do it with me,” Laxus retorted. Freed remained silent, refusing to reveal his true motive. “Then I’ll guess,” the Dragon Slayer challenged, glancing at Freed from head to toe.

“You hide under a cloak, in the past this place was headed by Lord Justine, and the mission requires to break a demonic curse written in strange purple characters. I suppose you or your family created the curse, right?” he inquired, and Freed pursed his lips, nervous. The last thing Freed wanted was for anyone to know his past, or to know his family.

“So? Are you going to explain it or do I have to find out all by myself? Because I will,” Laxus challenged. Freed stared at his hands, peering at his guild mark. He knew that Laxus would find out. He was one of the most skilled wizards he knew, and not just physically. It didn’t take a genius to understand that this mission had to do with Freed or his family.

Freed sighed and then looked up at Laxus, who was watching him expectantly.

“Okay,” Freed said. “But you have to promise me that you’ll never tell anyone about it.” Laxus nodded and Freed resolved to speak.

“You’re right, I was the one who launched the curse five years ago. I lived in that villa with my parents” he said, indicating with a nod of his head the large villa located on the hill, surrounded by a black fog, the same one breathed into the city, and the reason the city had asked Fairy Tail for help. “I was part of the Justine family; my father was the lord. It’s not like they really headed over this city. Theoretically, they had no rights other than the territories behind the hill. However, they were feared by everyone for their strength,” he said. “And a few years ago,” he paused for a moment, uncertain. “A few years ago, there was a bad fight, which led to the birth of the curse,” he concluded.

Laxus raised an eyebrow and peered at him.

“I guess that’s not all,” he said. Freed looked away.

“Details aren’t important.”

Laxus snorted and stood up.

“Okay, then let’s go and destroy this curse. I guess I’ll find out of the rest when we get there.” Laxus started towards the hill and Freed hurried after him, making sure his cloak still covered his face well.

“We won’t go into the villa,” he objected.

“It’s not for you to decide” was the dry reply of Laxus.

-

Freed wasn’t satisfied. He had destroyed the curse in minutes. It was child’s play, but Freed certainly didn’t feel good at it. Since he created the curse, it was quite obvious that eliminating it would be easy. Revisiting the villa had brought back only old memories. Old and terrible memories, and in that moment, Freed had decided that he was going to destroy that house.

He had done it, now he could only look ahead of him at the rubble of what had once been his home. But he still wasn’t satisfied and wanted to let years of anger and fear out. He would eliminate his past, destroy it definitively, destroy every little existence of the Justines, destroy everything that bound him to that place, but he couldn’t do it. He growled as he put his hands on his thighs, exhausted from the amount of magic he had used. An exaggerated amount, since he could have destroyed that building with much less. But he needed to let off steam, and he still needed it.

A new wave of dark magic rose, but he felt Laxus’ hand rest on his shoulder and a felt slight jolt run through him.

“That’s enough,” he said. Freed turned to him, gritting his teeth.

“No,” he growled.

“By now you’ve nothing else to destroy. What you’re doing is pointless and senseless,” the Dragon Slayer retorted harshly. Freed pulled away from his hold.

“Pointless and senseless?” he repeated furiously and again a wave of energy surrounded him. “You’ve no idea what I had to go through, you’ve no idea how much I want to destroy everything here” he growled and Laxus looked at him with an indecipherable expression.

“Tell me then,” he said. Freed turned to the castle, refusing to do anything like that. Laxus wouldn’t have understood anyway, he doubted anyone could. Seeing the rubble and dirt he had raised pissed him off even more. Laxus was right. It was useless, destroying the castle wouldn’t change his past. It wouldn’t change who he had been, nor who he was at that moment.

Frustrated and furious, he collapsed to the ground, trembling and feeling a sudden urge to cry. He didn’t, because Laxus was there and he wouldn’t show himself so vulnerable. He was silent and strangely Laxus sat down next to him, staring at the rubble and silently lighting a cigar.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Freed’s nerves compelled him to speak.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for the story” was the simple reply from Laxus, who glanced at him, throwing out a puff of smoke. “You hated your parents, didn’t you?”

“I hated my father,” Freed clarified. “I still hate him.”

“Parents can be assholes,” Laxus commented. “So, what did he do?”

Freed almost laughed. He mentally filed through the very long list of things his father had done and hadn’t. The longer he thought about his father the more he resented him, and the more he wanted to go back in time and exact revenge. Now that he was dead, Freed had lost his chance.

“My parents were mages, but they weren’t very powerful. However, they were both very fascinated by wealth and dark magic” he began to explain chronologically, despite the difficulties to remember it in order. Laxus let him speak and Freed continued, unsure why he was telling Laxus. He had never thought of confiding in anyone, and the Dragon Slayer certainly wasn’t his first choice. But he was here now.

“They did business with dark guilds. They found items for them and sold them, or they bought items to then resell to others. Our house was full of those things, and I was a curious child, I wanted to know more. I was fascinated by everything related to magic, so one day I opened a book and read a spell. There was a demon in that book, and I saw that with that spell I could capture his soul and have his magic. My father didn’t pay much attention to me, he thought I was just a child with no magical talent, no matter what I did. I wanted to prove otherwise, so I cast the spell and united our souls.”

“You were a child and was already able to do something like this?” Laxus asked.

“Yeah,” Freed replied. “I think I’ve already proven to be skilled,” he commented coldly and Laxus just gave a half-laugh, puffing more smoke and waving him on.

“It actually worked. I caught my father’s attention all too well. At first, I lost control and feared he would treat me even worse, but he didn’t. He saw potential and he decided to train me. I was very happy, so I did what he said,” Freed said and stopped for a moment, thinking about the training his father had forced him to do. He clenched his hands in two fists and a new wave of hatred overwhelmed him.

“I told you the Justine family was feared. Well, it was because of me. When someone dared to challenge my father, he would bring that person to me and tell me to torture or kill him. Every now and then he even made me do it in public, in the town square. Everyone began to fear him and my father was happy, he felt himself the master of the city” Freed stopped for a moment. “My mother wasn’t happy, and she told me it was wrong to do it, and I knew it. So, one day I refused and… my father blocked my magic and made me understand that refusing him wasn’t allowed, especially in front of other people”.

“Did he beat you?” Laxus asked.

“Yes,” was the dry reply and Laxus snorted.

“Asshole” he growled and Freed turned to him, feeling a little understood. Maybe that was the reason he was comfortable sharing with his teammate.

“My father became more pretentious and crueler. Both with the wizards of the dark guilds, with the city, and with us. I don’t know if it was the wealth or the amount of magical power, he had accumulated that drove him out of his mind, but it happened. And one day he killed my mother,” he said in a distant tone as if he wasn’t talking about his family but something foreign to him.

“I was there, the two of them were arguing because of me and then they started fighting. I knew my dad would win, but I was scared, so I didn’t even try to stop him. My mother was a good woman, I loved her, and since all the children in the city feared me, she was the only person I could have fun with. She was the only one who really loved me. She died because of me in front of my eyes, and I didn’t even try to save her,” he said coldly, reviewing the images of her in his head as if they were part of a movie. He would never forget his mother’s expression, her screams, her lifeless body.

“My father destroyed her body. When I realized she was dead I went mad and my demon took over. I tried to kill my father, but I was still too weak and he stopped me. My father locked me in a room for weeks, torturing me to make me understand who was in charge and what would happen if I failed his orders. I think that’s when I truly started to hate him.”

“I hated him. I hated him so much you can’t imagine. But instead of taking that anger out on him, I took it out on all the innocent people he brought in front of me. If I was hesitant to torture people before, at that moment I began to enjoy it. He was proud of me, but the more he was, the more I hated him”.

“I’ve never forgiven him. I’ve never forgotten that day, and for years I’ve prepared a revenge for him. I wanted to destroy him. But I didn’t want to just kill him, I wanted him to suffer, I wanted him to feel what I had felt all those years, what my mother had felt before she died. And I wanted to take everything away from him. So, I studied for a long time in the library, looking for the most frightening spells, until I found a forbidden curse”.

“This curse would have locked people into an eternal Hell. I was excited, I couldn’t wait to torture him and the men most trusted by him. I prepared everything in advance, away from everyone. I drew the runes around the entire villa. It took me half a year. Every time I thought about the final spell, I enjoyed the sights, I imagined my father’s expression, I imagined him crying, I wanted to make him cry.” Freed’s words poured out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“And finally, the day come. It didn’t go the way I wanted. Even though it had taken me half a year to prepare it, I wasn’t powerful enough. The curse hit my father and it worked. But for only three days. I stayed there for three days hearing my father’s screams and I was delighted. But after only three days he died, I no longer felt anything. I made sure he was really dead, and I was so angry that I destroyed his body. But I still wasn’t satisfied. But it was over now, I couldn’t do anything else. So, I left. I wanted to live in the city, but I heard what they said about me. They all hated me, they called me the monster, the cursed child or Freed the Dark. I left and vowed never to come back,” Freed concluded. Laxus was silent and Freed continued to stare at the rubble for a long time. No words were exchanged between the two.

“This mission was because of the curse. Something went wrong and filled the city with fog,” Freed explained after a while.

“Your father is even worse than mine,” Laxus commented and turned to him. “At least you managed to take revenge.”

“I don’t deserve to be part of Fairy Tail,” Freed murmured, sadness enveloping him.

“You do,” Laxus sternly retorted.

“I’m just a monster,” Freed sighed. Laxus snorted and put out his cigar.

“You’re not what your father decided for you,” Laxus consoled. “You’re much better, and you’ve already proved it. You deserve to be a part of Fairy Tail more than anyone else.” Freed turned to him, surprised at the statement said with complete certainty. Laxus had never been very sensitive, yet he was here. He had listened to him and hadn’t changed his mind about him. Indeed, he had Laxus’ respect and friendship, and it made Freed feel accepted and warm inside. Laxus put his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a skilled wizard and a good person. And you’re so much better than anything your dad has ever led you to believe,” he added, and Freed could only look into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by those words in a way that had never happened. “So don’t be ashamed of who you are. Take off this cloak and show that you’re different from your father,” Laxus said and stood up, holding out his hand. Freed took it and stood up without hesitation.

“Thanks,” Freed murmured. Laxus grinned.

“Although, I have to say, Freed the Dark sounds quite threatening. Maybe you should start using it.” Laxus started down the hill. Freed watched him for a while before following him, feeling his heart beating madly. If Laxus, the person who most represented Fairy Tail, told him that, then Freed had no doubt he was right.

I swear Laxus, you won’t regret putting your trust in me, Freed thought, as he walked beside him.

-Year X791, Dark Écriture: Fear-

(23-year-old Laxus, 20-year-old Freed)

The brush ran smoothly through the boy’s hair, who looked at himself in the mirror. He was sitting on the big mattress, and behind him, his mother was singing softly, fixing his hair. Freed hummed the melody to himself and moved his fingers to the rhythm of the song. When the woman put the brush on the bedside table, she smiled in the mirror.

“You like it?” she asked.

Freed ran a hand through his hair, which reached over his shoulders and shrugged.

“It’s just hair,” he said automatically. A phrase that his father constantly repeated every time he saw Freed brush it.

“You don’t like it?” the woman asked softly.

“Father doesn’t care” was the next automatic reply.

“Your father isn’t here,” the woman said and rested her chin on his shoulder. “What do you think about it?” she asked again. Freed observed himself for a long time in the mirror.

“I like it,” he said. His mother smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Then she sat cross-legged on the mattress and grabbed a large hardcover book. Freed turned to her, suddenly curious and excited.

“Will you read me a story?” he asked, and the woman nodded, smiling, looking down at the first page and beginning to read. Freed rested his head on the palms of his hands, curious about the new book.

His mother continued to read aloud, but it became a distant murmur. He heard a scream and then some crying and looked around, trying to understand the sudden foreboding changes. He turned to the mirror but didn’t see the reflection of a child, but that of a teenager. His hair now reached his waist, his face was sharper.

He turned back and was no longer in his room. He was in the garden of his villa, holding a sword. A woman in front of him was crying and pleading. Freed couldn’t understand what she was saying, but of one thing, he was sure. That woman was terrified, and she didn’t want to die. By now, however, her fate had been set.

Freed felt the darkness envelop him, the heat rising through his body. His right eye burned and all his muscles were tense. His lips moved on their own and a single word came out.

“Death,” he whispered.

For a moment, silence fell around him. He no longer heard screams, no tears, no pleas. It was an abnormal silence as if the whole world had fallen silent. The woman put her hands to her chest, winced a couple of times with wide eyes, and then fell back to the ground. A helpless body with a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were full of the terror that had struck her in the moments before death took her.

Freed looked at her and lowered his sword, exhaustion hitting him suddenly. His energy disappeared, and he collapsed. But he didn’t have to. He could stay up, stand up, he didn’t have to let him down.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said.

Freed raised his head. Two large bright green eyes met his. The little girl was screaming.

“Mom! Mom!” she screamed and Freed stepped back.

“Murderer! Murderer!” the little girl screamed. Freed backed away and crashed into a wall.

“You’re a killer! Give me back my mom!” she kept screaming and Freed wanted to run away. He turned but couldn’t run anywhere. In front of him was the body of Cana, lying in the rubble. Freed stopped and the sword fell from his hands. He was shaking. He wanted to turn around and leave and never return. But he knew that if he did it, it would be worse. That something even worse would happen. The darkness would follow.

As if forced to do so, his face turned to the right. Elfman was there, also lying on the ground. He was perfectly still; his chest was covered with the rune that had killed him. Above him, Mirajane was crying, and she was screaming, and her screams filled his ears.

“Murderer! Murderer!” Freed desperately turned, tried to escape, but stumbled through the rubble, fell to the ground and sank, under the earth. It was all dark, and he felt lost. He tried to fly. He had to get out of there. He had to escape. He had to find a way back home. But something was holding him down.

“Freed” the voice calmed him instantly. Freed turned and was greeted by Laxus.

“Freed,” he repeated, and Freed tried to get closer.

“Laxus, I’m sorry,” Freed breathed through tears.

“You killed him.”

Freed stopped short and Laxus looked away. Whatever void Freed had fallen into had vanished, and he was back down on earth. He was in the center of Fiore’s arena. And in front of him, there was another dead body. Ivan. His armor was shattered; his body was full of wounds. Blood stained the ground beneath him. His eyes were wide with pain and fear. Freed took a step back.

“You killed him,” Laxus said.

Freed looked up, perhaps for a savior, or any sense of peace, but in the stands, there were members of Fairy Tail. They hated him, everyone hated him. He caught the Master’s furious gaze and Freed was still under his glare.

Makarov raised his hand and a powerful light radiated from his palm, Freed tried to bring his arms in front of him to defend himself, pleaded that it wasn’t him, but it was useless. He was outnumbered and outmatched when everything went white.

-

Freed jumped up, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat sticking his clothes to his body. Terror ran through him and Freed inhaled deeply to attempt to calm himself.

‘It was a nightmare,’ he thought. ‘It was just a nightmare’ But it didn’t help him, because he knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. Because he knew he had really killed that woman years ago. Because he knew he had risked killing Elfman and Cana. Because he knew that when he saw Ivan in the arena, he felt that sudden desire to let himself go to the darker side. Because he wanted to kill the father of the person he loved.

Freed put a hand to his chest feeling his still racing heart. He wanted to throw up and cry.

“Freed, are you okay?”

Freed looked up suddenly. It was Laxus. The boy sat by the fire they had built on their way home from a mission. Freed scanned their campsite. There were two sleeping bags, the small fire, and their backpacks placed on the ground. They had decided to walk home so that Laxus wouldn’t have to take the train.

“Freed?” Laxus called him and Freed turned to him and smiled slightly to reassure him.

“I’m fine, I just had a nightmare,” he explained as he stood up and got out of the sleeping bag. He realized that his clothes were indeed damp with sweat and his hair was sticking to his neck and his clothes.

“You’ve been getting them a lot recently, is something bothering you?” Laxus asked. Freed shook his head.

“No,” he replied simply and sat next to him in front of the fire, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. But Laxus was right, he had been having nightmares for weeks, about his past, about his mother, about the people he had killed, about the people he could have killed, and about the ones he wanted to kill.

He'd had nightmares in the past, namely the Battle of Fairy Tail, and just as he finally began to overcome them, the Grand Magic Games brought them back in full force. And as much as he wanted to banish those thoughts, he just couldn’t seem to do it.

He felt Laxus’ arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked and Freed closed his eyes, leaning against him and closing his eyes. Talk about it with him, of all people? He who had asked him to kill his guildmates? He who was the son of the man Freed wanted to torture to death?

“No,” he said, “I’ll pass.”

He felt Laxus’s gaze fixed on him and his arm comforting him.

“You said my name,” the blond said, and Freed stiffened. “You said my name and then yelled that you weren’t the one who killed them,” he said tonelessly. “You know, I’ve never thought about it too much but I can’t believe I asked you to do something like that. I used you like your father did and I’m sorry. I know you’ll never forgive me but…”.

“I’ve already done that,” Freed said. “We’ve already talked about it. I forgave you Laxus, completely. The only person I haven’t forgiven is myself”.

“My fault,” Laxus murmured.

“No,” Freed tried to say reassuringly. “Laxus, darkness has been with me for a lifetime, it wasn’t you who pulled it out, it wasn’t you who put it in, and it wasn’t you who made me hate it,” he said forcefully. “You helped me instead to make me accept it as part of me, and even though I’m still working on it, it’s to your credit that I can now control the demon. It’s to your credit if I don’t feel horrible for everything I’ve done”.

“But you still have nightmares about the battle of Fairy Tail,” Laxus muttered and Freed shook his head.

“Trust me, that’s not the cause of my nightmares,” he said.

“So, what’s it?” Laxus asked.

Freed didn’t answer. He stared into the flames in front of him while he thought back to the nightmare he had had, the destroyed body of Ivan, the pleas of that woman. Freed didn’t think those nightmares would ever go away, but that wasn’t Laxus’s fault, it was the fault of the darkness that accompanied him and the evil he was hiding and that he was trying to control.

“My greatest fear” he answered simply. He let himself be enveloped by his friend’s embrace.

-Year X793, Dark Écriture: Suffering-

(25-year-old Laxus, 22-year-old Freed)

Freed could still hear the screams of terror of the enemies. He could still hear their pleas and their cries, their prayers, and their despair. And the more he heard them, the better he felt. The more he heard them, the more satisfaction grew inside him. The more he looked at their faces full of terror and pain, the more his soul laughed. There was no escape from that rune and Freed enjoyed every single moment of it.

He wanted it. He wanted to make them feel small. He wanted to make them feel powerless; he craved their terror. He wanted to make them pay for everything they did to his teammates. He wanted them to feel the way they did. He wanted to hear them pray for death. At that point, perhaps Freed would have satisfied them. Though he probably wouldn’t have indulged them.

They deserved it; they had asked for it. They had mistreated his comrades and still had laughed at it. They had enjoyed Fairy Tail’s momentary helplessness. Now it was his turn, and it was right. And if that wasn’t right, Freed didn’t care. It was he who made the rules.

Freed walked down the corridor going out into the fresh air and closing off the screams with the door behind him. He almost wanted to stay there and listen to them longer, but he knew that if he did, he'd seriously risk going mad and giving in to his dark side. And as much as he enjoyed having that dark power, he knew it was best not to go too far.

He walked away and entered the woods, passing all the trees in the shadows of the night and reaching the small stream near Magnolia. He sat down on the ground and looked at the water in front of him.

He didn’t want to get carried away by rage or fury, but he was far too happy to hear those screams. And even though he could no longer hear them now, just knowing that those men were still suffering filled him with a terrifying joy. He knew he would have to let them go sooner or later. He had to do it, fearing his sanity would disappear with each scream.

He heard footsteps behind him and then a voice.

“Are they still in there?” Laxus asked as he sat down behind him and wrapped him in a hug, pulling Freed against him and resting his head against his chest.

“Yes,” Freed said. “They were already begging,” he said with a sadistic smile and felt Laxus’ arms squeeze him even more. Freed felt himself returning to reality and realized what he had said and in what tone. “Sorry, I sound like a monster.” He knew that Laxus avoided gratuitous violence. He could kill someone or fight them if he was pissed off, but torture wasn’t his style. God, he must have found Freed awful. His stomach sunk at the thoughts, but still, Laxus’s proximity helped him. The blond rested his chin on his shoulder.

“I knew who you were from the moment I met you,” he said. “And I never thought you were a monster, you know.”

“I know,” Freed agreed softly. It still seemed strange to him, but it was true. Laxus had never been afraid of him, and he had seen some terrible things.

“Don’t keep them in there any longer,” Laxus murmured, leaving him a kiss on the neck.

“They deserve it,” Freed objected.

“Yes,” Laxus agreed. “But you don’t, and I’d rather you stay with me.”

Freed didn’t answer, knowing what Laxus meant. And he was right, he didn’t have to give up. He could have fun, but without completely abandoning himself. He closed his eyes and leaned completely on Laxus, who was now holding him in a loving embrace that Freed probably didn’t deserve. Even that didn’t interest him. Laxus loved him, Freed loved him, and that was one of the few pure things in Freed’s life. He wouldn’t let him go.

“You know Laxus,” Freed said after a while, placing his hand on Laxus’s and stroking it slowly. “Sometimes I like to be a monster”.