#i just don’t wanna graduate with braces so i wanna get it over with

[gently-decaying-flowers]

GUYS I DID IT

i talked to my dad about getting me into the orthodontist! because my teeth are affecting my body image!! he said it’s recently jumped higher on the list of priorities anyways soooo hopefully braces this summer 🤞

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

Behind Closed Doors | Fezco

Description: you’re with Fezco in bed when Rue shows up and bangs on his door. Set in Euphoria season 1, episode 3

Pairing: Fezco x Female!Reader

A/N: The moment I first saw this scene, I knew I wanted to write something with it, but I never got around to it until now. Gif isn't mine - all credit to the creator. Enjoy xo

Warnings: drug mentions, addiction

- - -

The sound of a fist banging on the door to Fezco’s house shook you out of your nap. “Mm, what is it, Fez?” You asked, still sleepy, stretching and turning over to face him.

“I don’t know.” Fez sighed, pulling you into him for a quick kiss. “Maybe they’ll go away if we wait long enough.”

The incessant banging continued and after a few more seconds, your boyfriend let out an annoyed grunt and shifted to get out of bed. You watched, a lazy smile on your face as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and threw it on. “Be right back.”

You didn’t necessarily try to hear, but the walls in the house could be thin so it wasn’t hard to eavesdrop on conversations. 

“Who is it?” You heard Fezco ask as he walked into the living room. The door squeaked as he opened it, and you could only imagine who was on the other side. One of his clients, no doubt. “Not today, Rue. Sorry.”

Rue. Your chest constricted at hearing the younger girl’s name. You’d seen her around school before you’d graduated, and had met her a couple times since whenever she showed up asking for drugs. From the rumors, her drug habit was one of the worst out of all of Fezco’s clients, and that was seriously saying something.

“C’mon man, don’t be a dick.” The window was open, a fact you hadn’t realized until now, and you could hear the hurt in her strung-out voice.

“Nah, I’m serious. You can’t come in.”

You and Fezco had just been talking about how he wanted to set firmer boundaries with his clients and you knew this was going to be one of the hardest. He saw Rue like a little sister, and always took special care when it came to her - any other girl would be jealous of the relationship, but you saw it for what it was: guilt mixed with some fucked up version of platonic love. When the news broke that Rue had been carted off to rehab after a very nasty OD where she almost died, Fezco had been inconsolable for almost a week. Ashtray had done a majority of the deals that week and you still weren’t sure what he’d told the buyers.

“Look, man, all I- all I need is just a few OCs-”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Fez? Fez? I’ve had a really fucked up day, alright? It’s been a really really fucked up day, so I need you to open the door for me, okay? Can you open the door, please?” The desperation in her voice had tears pricking the back of your eyes. You knew that tone of voice well, memory taking you back to your dead, alcoholic mother when she’d beg you to go buy booze with the fake she’d had made for you specifically for that purpose. Addiction was a hell of a drug.

“I ain’t gon’ help you kill yourself, Rue.” His silence was deafening. “I’m sorry but you can’t be comin’ over here no more. Just go home.”

“Don’t! Fez, don’t close the-” you heard the click of the door. “Fuck! Fez-” Rue banged her fist against the storm door, “open the fucking door, please? I’m begging you, just open the door.” In a flash, you were off your feet and heading down to the front door. When you got there, all you could see was his back, his forehead resting on the now-closed door. You wasted no time, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek in-between his shoulder blades as you held him tight. He took a shuddering inhale, bracing himself for Rue’s next words.

“Fez! You’re full of shit, man. You know you make your living off of selling drugs to teenagers, and now all of a sudden you wanna have a fucking moral high ground?! You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer. You know that? You’re a fucking dropout drug dealer with seven functioning fucking brain cells. OPEN THE DOOR! Fuck you! Fuck you Fez okay? Are you doing this because you care about me ? If you gave a shit about me you wouldn’t have sold me the fucking drugs in the first place but you did! You fucking did so open the goddamn door! Open the door!”

During Rue’s rant, Fez had turned around, his eyes meeting yours in one of the most tortured expressions you’d ever seen on his face. You hugged him again, your arms winding around his neck as you let him bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I can’t do it-” He whispered against your skin, and you couldn’t fathom how Rue had heard him, but she responded like she had.

“Open the door, open the door, open the door!” The silence was heartbreaking, but you were currently torn between comforting Fez and fighting Rue for what she’d said to him even though you knew it was no use when an addict was like this. “Open the door. You did this to me! You fucking- you did this to me, Fez. You fucking ruined my life. The least you could do is open the goddamn door! I’m so serious I’m so fucking serious. If you don’t open this door right now I swear to god, I will hate you til the day I fucking die.”

“I’m sorry.”

She let out a heart-wrenching wail and smacked her fists against the storm door. “You fucking did this to me! Open the door! Open the door, Fez! C’mon man…”

Wordlessly, you took Fez’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, the sound of Rue banging on the door for far too long until she tired herself out and left.

The two of you had laid in silence and you waited without expectation until he began to speak. “I just…don’t know how to help her, ya know?” Fez murmured, staring up at the ceiling. 

“She’s an addict, Fez. And you’re a dealer. You can’t control what she does and you have to let her fail on her own. It sucks but there’s only so much you can do.”

“I know.” He sighed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. “Thank you for being here.” After a while, Fez finally fell asleep in your arms, his breathing finally evening out after an exhausting encounter. You tucked him into bed, curling up into his side as you tried to get some sleep of your own.

[loveronlineee]

Us Weirdos Chapter 1 (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Byers! Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Y/N picks up her little brother’s friends from their after school club and bumps into an old classmate

Y/N notes: none

Wanna request something? Look here!

Y/N kept her hands on the wheel as she drove towards her old high school, Queen blasting from the cassette player. Her head bobbed to the music as she pulled into the parking lot.

A weird nostalgic feeling filling her as memories from the old building came flooding back. A mix of good and bad. Y/N wasn’t popular, but she certainly wasn’t bullied. She kept to herself and did what she was told, managing to scrape through the four years just fine. No major problems. No… drama.

Damn I was a boring teenager.

The 20 year old thought to herself as she parked the car at the front. She was on the lookout for three familiar faces; Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson. She used to see them on an almost daily basis, being her littlest brother’s best friends. But since she graduated and moved out of her Mom’s house, there weren’t really any times they would bump into each other.

Y/N took out the tape just as the song was ending and took a different one from her glove box. The Clash. She put it in, knowing one of her favourites was gonna start.

Darlin’ you got to let me know,

should I stay or should I go?

She looked back at the building, still nothing. The music continued to fill the car as Y/N tapped on the wheel in time.

If you say that you are mine,

I'll be here 'til the end of time

She decided to get out and stand, leaning on her now open car door. The song just loud enough that she could still hear it.

So you got to let me know,

should I stay or should I go?

Finally, a group of boys burst open the double doors. Y/N spotted the three youngest and gave them a wave. The boys waved back and jogged over to her car. Y/N folded her arms, smiling at them.

“Hey guys! Been a while. You guys look so different!” Y/N remarked. She scanned each boy. “Mike you’re so tall now! Lucas I like the hair and Dustin nice braces.”

“Ugh you sound like my Mom’s friends.” Mike pulled a disgusted face as Dustin and Lucas smiled at her.

“Oh really?” Y/N grabbed Mike and ruffled the boy’s hair comically. “Mikey you’ve become such a handsome young man! Come give me a smooch!” She wrapped him up in a restricting hug whilst making over the top kissing noises. The other boys just laughed as he watched his friend struggle to escape the embrace.

“Ugh I forgot how annoying you are!’’ Y/N let him go after a couple seconds, chuckling. “I’m starting to regret asking you to pick us up.”

“I’m not.” Dustin opposed.

“Me neither.” Lucas added.

“Oh that’s two v one Mike.” Y/N stated. “Looks like you’ll have to endure a car ride home with me instead of walking back in the cold and the dark. Don’t worry, you’ll manage.” She joked.

“Yeah yeah I get it.” Mike huffed.

“Uh Mike, would anyone else buy you guys snacks for the ride home? I don’t think so.” The younger boys’ eyes lit up as they flung open the back seat to see bags of chips and cans of soda.

Y/N watched with a smile as they climbed inside and started on the snacks. That’s when she felt another pair of eyes on her.

‘‘Y/N?’’ A vaguely familiar voice called out to her. She spun around to see an old classmate from school. “Y/N Byers?’’

‘’Holy shit. Eddie Munson?’’ She said with a surprised smile. She took a couple steps closer to him. “Dude I almost didn’t recognise you. Your hair is so long now!’’ Eddie looked taken aback at her reaction, loosing his cool for a moment.

“Ha yeah I’ve been growing it out.’’ He smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Why are you here?’’

“Uh I… I’m repeating senior year again.” Eddie explained, looking down to the ground and taking a hand out to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh dude no judgement. I still have no idea how I graduated in 84.” Y/N joked to ease the tension. It seemed to work as Eddie looked back up at her.

“So what have you been up to since then?”

“I work at Family Video. Got promoted to assistant manager a month ago.”

“Wow going up in the world.” Eddie said, half joking. Y/N chuckled, making him smile wider.

‘‘You guys know each other?’’ Dustin asked, stuffing his face. Mike and Lucas looked at the two older kids as well, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah we were in the same grade at school.’’ Y/N explained. The younger ones nodded, realising that they were the same age. “We had homeroom together, senior year.’’

“Yeah I sat behind you.’’ Eddie added. Y/N turned back to him with a smile.

“Oh yeah you did! You used to drum on the back of my chair and drive me CRAZY.’’

‘‘Wh- that was annoying you?! You never said anything!” Eddie chuckled, taking a step closer to her.

“Of course that was annoying me! I was just too shy back then to speak up.” Y/N shook her head at herself.

“Well I apologise. ‘twas not my intention m’lady.” Eddie bowed his head dramatically, hand movements to match. Y/N folded her arms.

“I accept your apology good sir, even if it is two years too late.” Y/N joked. Eddie pretended to be offended, standing back up straight and putting his hand to his chest which made Y/N laugh. She sighed and looked back at the boys. “Well I better get these three home so their Mom’s don’t kill me. It was good to see you Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too Y/N.” He walked to his van as Y/N got back in her car.

“Okay you guys ready to go?” The boys nodded. Y/N drove out of the school, giving Eddie a little wave on the way out.

“So were you and Eddie…friends?” Mike asked, sceptical. He tried to think of any instance where he saw Eddie even talk to a girl, let alone be friends with one. Y/N shook her head.

“Oh no I barely knew him.” Mike frowned.

“Well you seemed pretty excited to see him?” Y/N shrugged.

“I think it’s just that feeling when you see someone you knew from high school and realising how much time has passed. Maybe you’ll get it after you graduate.” The boys nodded. The tape ended. Y/N began playing it from the beginning again.

She tapped the steering wheel along to the beat, then sighed. “I miss Will.” She whined.

It had been a couple months since her Mom and brothers had moved to California. She had had the choice to go with them but decided to stay in Hawkins. She already had her own place and a stable job and moving somewhere else would do a number on her savings.

“What about Johnathan?” Lucas asked. Y/N pulled a face.

“Yeah I guess him too.” The boys laughed at the oldest sibling playing obvious favourite. No she loved Johnathan too but Will was the baby, and he’d always be the baby. “You boys aren’t making too much mess back there are you?” The rustling immediately stopped, making Y/N laugh. “I’m just kidding. I’m getting the car cleaned tomorrow you guys can go crazy.”

“Chores day?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah. Gotta go grocery shopping, tidy the house, do laundry, drop something off at work and get the car cleaned.” Y/N listed off. “Oh the joys of adulthood that await you boys.”

She joked, making the boys smile. “So you guys are friends with Eddie?”

“Yeah he runs the D&D club.” Mike answered.

“Oh right yeah! I totally forgot he did that.” Y/N commented. She looked at them through the rear view mirror. “So you guys tell Will that you don’t wanna play anymore but as soon as you get to High School-“

“I-It’s just because we wanted to make friends!” Mike interjected, feeling a twinge of guilt. Y/N laughed and shook her head.

“I’m kidding guys. As long as you’re having fun.” She brushed off.

They pulled into Mike’s driveway and he jumped out. His Mom opened the door and waved at Y/N, mouthing thanks as her son walked inside. “Well at least his Mom has manners.” Y/N mumbled, making Dustin and Lucas giggle.

Next was Lucas’ house. He jumped out and walked to the front passenger window.

“Thank you ever so much for driving me home Y/N. Do get home safe.” He said exaggeratively.

“You are very welcome Lucas. I will.” Lucas grinned and ran into his house. Y/N turned to look at the last boy. “You wanna jump in the front Dust?”

“Hell yeah!” The boy replied excitedly as he got out and swapped seats.

“Okay next stop, the Henderson residence.” The car started up again and they were back on the road.

“How’s work?” Dustin asked. Y/N shrugged.

“It’s work. Not much happens at Family Video so there’s not much to tell.”

“It must be cool to work with Steve and Robin.” The boy smiled.

“Yeah it’s cool, especially since they have to do everything I say.” Y/N said with mischief in her voice. “How’s high school going?”

“Alright I guess. Still getting bullied like in Middle School. Maybe a little better cause we’ve got Eddie looking out for us.” Y/N nodded sympathetically as she continued to listen. “This guy Jason is the worst-“

“Junior Jason Carver?!” Y/N loudly interrupted “Oh shit wait no he’ll be a senior now. WOW I’m old.”

“You know him?” Dustin questioned.

“I used to be his math tutor. He had a crush on me.” Y/N chuckled to herself.

“Wha- really?”

“Uh don’t sound so surprised Henderson! Yeah he did. His friends used to tease him about it when I was in earshot. I’d pretend not to hear but I did.” Y/N smile dropped. “But now he’s a bully? That’s so upsetting to hear. He seemed so sweet.”

“He mostly picks on Eddie. But then again, Eddie does kinda egg him on.”

“Well I’ll keep an eye out for him so I can give him a stern lecture.” Y/N said, her grip on the wheel tightening ever so slightly.

“Please make sure I’m around when you do, I can’t miss that.” The two laughed together as they stopped outside Dustin’s house. “Oh and the guys. Eddie especially. He’d love it.” Y/N nodded, an amused smile on her face.

“Well here we are.”

“Thanks Y/N.” Dustin said as he got out.

“No problem. Let me know if you guys need another lift.”

“We will! Bye!” Y/N watched him run into the house before looking away. She opened her glove box again to find something else to listen to. She frowned.

Why am I suddenly in the mood for something metal?

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 18

Hair Pulling - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.9k words

Garreth was hidden in the corner of the Deathday Party room where a group of the graduating class had decided to throw a party for all the graduating students of the school. He’d mostly kept to himself, occasionally chatting with members from his house or the occasional flirty nod to the girls who’d attended and giggled while walking past his table.

One particular girl responded to his nod by slinking over to him and taking a seat at the table in a chair next to him. “Hey Garreth! I’m surprised you're not up dancing and mingling more, you usually seem like the extroverted type.”

He gave her a smug grin and looked her up and down. “Well, if I was doing that then I wouldn’t have attracted the attention of a pretty thing such as yourself, now would I?”

She giggled, shrugging her shoulders and moving a bit closer to the table, gathering the attention of the other table members. “Hm? So I suppose none of you are in for the party games then? All gonna sit aside and watch?”

Garreth’s interest piqued when she mentioned party games. He wasn’t exactly sure what she was up to but he could tell she was going to start trouble, and if it had to do with her, he wanted in on it. “Oh? What party games exactly are you referring to, gorgeous?”

She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows and pulling a bottle from her robes. Garreth, as her advanced potions partner, knew exactly what she had the second he saw the bottle.

Her particular brew she’d been working on would allow the drinker to experience their wildest fantasy with no repercussions. Last he’d known she’d given up on the brew but seeing her with it now he knew he had to act fast.

He stood from the table and grabbed the bottle in one hand and her arm in the other, leading her away from the table of boys. Once out of earshot he leaned in close to her and whisper yelled. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?! Have you even tested this batch yet?”

She gave a sheepish laugh, shaking her head. “You see, about that. I was hoping one of them would wanna test it after I mentioned what it was! Let’s just go back over there and see if any of them want to try it!”

He grabbed her arm as she pulled another bottle from her robes, trying to spin on her heel and head towards the table. He gave her a stern look and shook his head, taking the second bottle from her, which made her pout. “Not a chance. You’re not going and giving a group of horny school boys a bottle of brew for erotic dreams when you haven’t even tested it. Lest this end like last time.”

She chuckled at the memory of her, locked away in the potions class closet for 6 hours after practically giving herself a massive dose of aphrodisiac. Garreth pounding on the door, unable to get out what was wrong with her and her begging him to leave as she writhed on the floor.

He sighed, sticking the bottles of her brew away in his own robes. “Alright, are you gonna give me the rest of the bottles or am I going to have to pat you down for them?”

She scrunched her face in disapproval, rummaging around in her robes before procuring two more bottles. “I’ll give you these…but only if you test them for me and tell me how well they work?”

He contemplated for a moment, looking at the brews in her hands and back at her face, ultimately deciding it was safer for him to try them than for her to give them away. “Fine. But only if you promise not to go about giving anything to anyone else the rest of the night?”

She smirked deviously, causing him to inhale through his nose, bracing himself for her to bolt. To his surprise she only handed him the vials and gave him a simple nod. “Alright, I can agree to those terms. But only if you come with me and test them now so I don’t spend my night being tempted by curiousity?”

He hesitated for a moment, looking around to see who was watching their exchange. None of the boys from his table were watching and neither was anyone else at the party. He sighed, nodding and taking the bottles from her hands, leading her out of the room.

He quickly led her into the potions classroom, shutting and locking the door behind them, grateful that nobody was inside and that Sharp had already gone to his room for the night.

He sat on the floor next to a potions station, giving her a wary look while uncorking one of the bottles. After a small sniff he tipped his head back and downed the contents of the vial in one go.

For the first few moments he felt totally normal, looking around the room, waiting for it to kick in or for him to feel something. After a few moments he realized his legs started to tingle a bit and his vision started to sway and shift just ever so slightly, quickly evening out.

She suddenly appeared from her spot on the stool beside him to the floor in front of him on all fours and his eyes zeroed in, swallowing harshly. She looked him over with a look of curiosity and even though he heard her voice her lips weren’t moving. “Are you…feeling anything yet?”

He swallowed again and gave a nod. He was humiliated that she was his fantasy but he’d half expected it. “Y-yea just a bit. D-definitely feeling something, not sure what yet.”

She giggled, sitting back on her heels, reaching up and undoing her robe, letting it slide off her shoulders and pool around her. His breath caught in his throat, eyes zeroing in on her fingers working off the tie at her neck. “Shit…I’m definitely starting to see something…”

She giggled again, pulling her tie off and sliding herself into his lap. His breath caught when she reached down, her smaller hands gripping his, pulling them up to rest on the buttons of her shirt. “Tell me what’s going on Gar?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “N-no. That’s not a good idea. I’m supposed to experience a fantasy right?”

She grinded her hips on his and he let out a little gasp, tipping his head back against the side of the potion station when her voice rang out again. “Yep, supposed to see and feel a whole fantasy. What’s happening?! Is it working?!”

Her hips ground against him, drawing a breathy moan from him. He shut his eyes tightly, keeping his head tipped against the station. It felt so fucking real but he knew this couldn’t possibly be happening. “Fuck, it’s definitely working. C-can you…go outside of the classroom? I-it feels strange having you in here…”

She made no movements from his lap but he heard her get up, her retreating footsteps heading towards the door of the classroom but the vision of her still in his lap, grinding away. “Fine, but you have to tell me everything after.”

She ground her hips against him harder this time and his nails scratched against the floor, he was way too worked up right now and he knew the aphrodisiac portion hadn’t been fixed but had definitely caused the vision like she’d intended. “F-fine. Just sh-shut up and get out…”

He heard the door close, groaning as he opened his eyes to see her fully naked in his lap. After looking farther down he realized he was also undressed and a groan left his throat when he felt her grind her hips.

The feeling of her wetness dragging across his length felt so real. He couldn’t help his hands landing on her hips, pushing her down against him greedily. He knew he may never feel this again, unsure of how long it would last he was determined to feel as much as he could before it disappeared.

His hand came up to her hair, fisting it roughly. His other hand on her hip, guiding her to slide onto his erection. The feeling was incredible, her silky wetness enveloping him, yanking her head back with a handful of her hair.

She whimpered, rocking her hips on his lap in earnest. He groaned again, burrowing his face into her neck and biting gently while tugging the strands of her hair to tip her head back. The tugging made her moan louder. “Fuck, I knew always imagined you’d sound so fucking pretty getting your hair pulled like this. Bloody hell you get so tight when I pull.”

She rode him faster, his hand moving from her hips to slide down between her legs, his thumb circling her clit making her cry out louder. He held himself back, the urge to end it there so deep inside of him but he stops, knowing he hadn’t quite lived out his fantasy, the one he’d imagined so many nights.

He stilled her, sliding her off and getting her to her hands and knees. Once in doggy, he groaned, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail and tugging just enough to elicit a gasp from her.

He gave a satisfied grin and slid deeply back into her. He rutted into her rather ruthlessly, pulling back on the ponytail, causing her cry out as he fucks her hard.

With every tug of her hair he feels her clench around him tighter. Her wet heat spasming around his hardened length. He listened to her moaning as he held her hair in place, using it to bounce her onto him. “G-Garreth! Harder!”

He growls deeply, fucking into her hard and fast, dropping her ponytail and fisting his hand into her stands. It leaves her breathless as she spasms around him. The feeling of her cumming on him has him spasming wildly and releasing into her heat with a loud groan.

After a moment the vision of her starts to slowly fade in front of him. He finds himself sweating, sitting fully clothed with a now rather sticky mess in his pants, leaned against the potions station.

Before he’s even caught his breath, she’s opened the door to the classroom and peered inside. “Hey! Are you good now? It got quiet.”

He sighed heavily, his mind coming to terms with all that had just transpired, trying to separate what had actually happened and what he’d envisioned. “Y-yea I’m good now. Um…your potion works by the way. Rather fucking well if I might add. Still a bit much on the aphrodisiac though.”

She nods, sliding into the classroom, giving him a sheepish smile. “Oh yea, I heard that. It sounds…and looks…like you had a rather good time. Who was the lucky lady in your fantasy?”

He shakes his head, slowly starting to stand up, trying his best to keep his mess contained in the process. “No. Absolutely not telling you. Not after you listened in on all of it you little shit.”

She giggled, sliding her way in front of him, taking the hand that he isn’t using to lean on the potion station and sliding it into her hair. “You mean you don’t want to see what noises I actually make when you pull on my hair?”

Kinktober Prompt List

[cyb3rscoups]

Pretty Woman AU (pt 3️⃣)

No warnings for this one just the usually cursing

Full Collection

She’d blanked out a long time ago, hyper focusing on not seeming like she was just taught proper etiquette two days ago.

“I am not selling it.” Namor insists, neglecting the very expensive food on his plate to argue with Attuma.

“You are in a rut, Namor. I’m your only out. Just take it and free yourself of this misery.”

“Your greed will be the fall of you. Always wanting more. You keep those sly hands off my company or I’ll rip you apart.”

Namor tossed his napkin to the side as he sighed, fixing his suit and his expression. “Ms. Okoye.” He held a hand out.

“Hm?” The woman looked up, her mouth full of pasta and her eyes clueless. Namor chuckled and took her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

“It was lovely to meet you. Enjoy your dinner. Good luck with this one.” He saw himself out of the restaurant, leaving Okoye much more oblivious than when she got here.

Carefully, she swallowed her food. “What just happened?” She prompted a tense Attuma who held his glass of wine with a strong enough grip to break.

“Finish eating. You did great.”

“And you? What did you say to him?”

“It was business, Okoye. Business he didn’t atone to when he should’ve.”

Okoye furrowed her brows. “Well, it seemed like you were being the asshole by the way he left.”

Attuma’s jaw ticked with a scoff. “You know what. Let’s get you home and stuff that pretty mouth of yours full of something else.”

“Ooh yay.” She grabbed her purse with a beaming grin. “Y-you do mean your dick right?”

———

Soft splashing water echoed through the bathroom as the couple sat in the tub together. Attuma nearly passed out on her chest as she tugged at his hair, maneuvering it into a set of braids

“Namor has filed for bankruptcy three times in the last two years. His employees are quitting left and right and his investors don’t trust him anymore. His company is shot. I want it.”

“And what would you do with it..” Okoye started the part the other half of his head.

“Sell it. Then boom, I’m rich.”

“Aren’t you already?” She smirked.

“I’ll be extra rich.” He tilted his head to the side, his fingers tracing her legs under the water.

Why he would need to be more rich than he already was, she wouldn’t know. When would it be enough for him?

“Tell me your story. Tell me how you ended up on the boulevard.”

Okoye scoffed just thinking about it. She took a pause from her braiding to brace herself.

“I was well off growing up..not rich not poor. Then this guy, I was real into in high school somehow convinced me to move in with him after graduation.”

She remembers how hard her parents tried to get her to stay. Her dad at least, her mom just sat on the couch with her third glass of wine, chuckling as Okoye packed.

“It was nice for like six months. Then we had a fight about rent or some bullshit like that. He hit me over the head with an iron and sent me to the hospital.”

“Jesus…where is this guy?”

“Calm down, Mr. man. He’s in jail now.” Attuma’s body relaxed against hers again and she was able to finish his hair as she continued.

“They had to shave my head for brain surgery cause he fractured my skull. Damn bastard. The only person at my bedside was my friend Nakia. She turns tricks too. We moved in together after the incident. Ol’ dude got arrested on a drug charge. The rest is history.”

Attuma shifted his body around, careful not to send any water over the edge as he turned to face her.

“So somewhere under this..” He took a strand of hair between his fingers. “Is a pretty nasty surgery scar?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s nasty. They did me pretty good. Even got some tattoos to cover it up.”

His eyes almost popped out. “On your head Okoye?”

The woman just nodded. “Wanna see?”

They rinsed off quickly, wrapping their respective towels around themselves and Okoye moved to the sink.

“I don’t usually glue em down since I switch em up nearly everyday.”

Attuma tilts his head in confusion. “Because?”

“Makes my regulars feel like they’re fucking a new ‘exotic’ black girl every day. Kind of sick when you think about it.” She pulled the wig off in one swoop and tossed it to the counter. “Tada!”

Attuma moved behind her, taking in her new appearance. He could point out the surgery scar, the scar from where her ex hit her, and the tattoos that covered the skin.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered, against her neck as his arms started to snake around her waist.

“Why thank you Mr. man.” Okoye ignored the flutter in her chest as he touched her. “And now that that’s done, I bid you goodnight.”

She tried to push his arms from her waist but her efforts were futile as he pressed closer to her. He took one hand and turned her chin to face him.

“What?” She asked quietly as he gazed at her with something she couldn’t place. It made her heart flutter and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Kiss me, Ko.” He leaned closer, letting their cheeks graze together, he could moan at the contact.

“I don’t kiss on the mouth. Too personal.” She snatched herself back, looking into the mirror at him. She saw the pained look that washed his face.

“Not even with someone you’ve spent three days with..”

“No. Not unless they plan on making me a wife. Last time I checked, you were paying me to hang out with you. So…you won’t feel this lips on yours for an eternity. Good night Attuma.”

She waited for his grip to loosen and free her. Once it did, she made no hesitation to exit the bathroom and get dressed elsewhere.

Attuma braced himself against the sink with a sigh.

———

The next morning was awkward between them only short ‘good mornings’ to start until he told her what the plan was today. A housewarming.

“Namora, my lawyer, and her wife RiRi.” Attuma muttered to her as he started to take his braids out, a soft curl formed in his hair that softened his demeanor.

Okoye stood beside him, applying mascara to her lashes and putting her wig back on. “Will there be buffalo wings at such a thing?”

Attuma smiled at the comment, “No. Namora is vegan and a control freak so all food will be disgustingly green.”

“Y’all rich motherfuckers suck.” He struck a stinging smack to her ass causing her to jolt up and squeal. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“Watch your language. I let it slip at dinner cause I knew Namor had an eye for you but you cannot- no you will not let one curse slip or so help me god-“

“Alright! Goddamn it.” Another stinging swat to her and she gasped. “Ow! Take it easy!”

“Then stop cursing.”

Okoye rolled her eyes as she made her exit. From the next room she yelled. “You better be fucking me later!”

———

“Okoye…how foreign!” The jealous woman leered at Okoye as Attuma left her to ‘mingle’. “So you’re flavor of the month.”

“Excuse you?”

“Oh! Don’t take it personally.” The other woman placed a hand to her shoulder and glared at her friend. “Attuma is one of our most eligible bachelors. We’re all trying to land him.”

“Well I’m not trying to land him. I’m riding his cock and spending his money.” Okoye grinned as the women’s face fell and she walked away to find a drink.

She grabbed a champagne glass from a caterer and found herself on an empty couch, staring into the glass as Attuma talked it up with Namora on the other side of the room.

A body slid in next to her and then a nudge to her elbow.

“Now what can I do to take that pretty little pout of your face, Okoye.” Namor smirked as he looked her over with a gleam in his eye.

“Get me the hell out of here.” She mumbled, sitting back into the couch with a huff.

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to get past big bad over there without drawing attention. How about a toy.”

Okoye scoffed at the man and his dashing face. “What am I? 5?”

“Come on. Adults can play too.” Namor reached into his pocket pulling out a finger trap and setting it into her lap. “I keep it at all times, sometimes play with it in meetings.”

Okoye gave him her glass and picked up the trap, setting her index fingers into it and pulling. She found herself smiling softly at the toy.

“I haven’t seen one of these since middle school..”

“Yeah? You like it?” Namor pushed the hair on her shoulder back, smoothing it down with a gentle touch.

“Mhmm.” Okoye hummed, playing with the toy without a care for where she was.

“Keep it, beautiful woman like yourself deserves to be happy and stay happy.”

———

“I have to say Attuma. I’m impressed with her but I gotta know where you found her. Out shopping? Cafe? Hell, did you hire her on a website?”

“No…we just crossed paths I guess…” Attuma paid Namora no real attention as he focused his gaze on Okoye and Namor on the couch.

Giggling and talking in hushed tones like best friends. He couldn’t help the furrow of his brows or the discomfort on his face as he looked at the two.

“-obviously she’s a catch. Even Namor looks like he’s smitten-“

“Namora, she’s a hooker. She stays on the boulevard and turns tricks.” He blurted as his anger bubbled over. What the fuck was she doing? Getting friendly with an enemy.

Namora scoffs, looking between Attuma and the woman on the couch. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I wish I was joking but no. I got lost in your car and ended up in her part of town. She gave me directions and I gave her an offer. Happy?”

Attuma fumed as he ran a hand through his hair and went searching for alcohol to ease his nerves. Jesus what was he thinking? Why did he just tell her that? No one had ever asked about who he was with previously.

Back on the couch, Namor made his exit from the party, leaving Okoye with a kiss to her hands and a wink.

She continued toying with the finger trap until she felt a hand on her arm.

Namora sat beside her with a friendly grin. “How’s the party?” She beamed.

Okoye smiled back, tucking the toy away while she spoke. “It is great. Your home is so beautiful.”

“Well RiRi is spoiled rotten. But whose fault is that but my own..” Namora chuckled. “Gosh, I just can’t for the life of me believe he did this.”

“Who did what?” Okoye tilted her head curiously.

“How Attuma turned a boulevard whore into classy plain jane.” A certain venom was laced into her voice as her grip on Okoye’s arm turned lethal.

“The hell are you talking about?” Okoye muttered.

“Oh he told me and honestly I was suspicious that day he left the office early to some ‘urgent matter’. I guess he was just trying to fix you up to fit in with the big leagues.”

“Let me go.” Okoye tried to snatch her arm from the woman but her nails only dug in firmer to her skin.

“Now that I’m looking at you…you do seem like a 20 buck slut.”

———

The ride home was silent, tense. One word from either of them and the dam would’ve broken loose.

“Do you want to order lunch?” Attuma asked, kicking his shoes off.

“Don’t bother.”

“Okay. That’s the 8th sly comment you’ve made since we left. What the hell is up with you?”

He could hear her laugh from the bathroom as she started to gather her things.

“You know it’s funny you ask because I mean why even bother dressing me the fuck up and teaching me all this etiquette bullshit if you were just gonna rattle off to all your pervy friends that I’m a hooker!”

“What?!”

“You told Namora that you plucked me off the street!! And she wouldn’t let me forget it!!” She yelled every word as she snatched her clothes off their hangers and bunched them up in her arms.

“I didn’t know she would confront you about it! I wasn’t prepared for her questions about you! I’m sorry!”

“You couldn’t at least save me some dignity! You know what Namor was right.”

“Oh what did that dickhead say about me now huh?!”

“You’re weak and you don’t care about anything but your own greed!”

“That’s bullshit! You know it’s bullshit! And where the fuck are you going?!”

“I’m leaving this hellhole. Your deal is off.”

“Don’t you walk away from me, woman! You are not leaving me!”

“Watch me!” Okoye made a beeline for the door.

Attuma beat her to it, pulling her body back to him and yanking the things out of her hands.

“You’re not leaving.” He muttered almost painfully as rage coursed from her body.

“Fuck you!! Fuck your money! I don’t want this anymore!”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again. I swear. Just don’t go. I-I love you.”

Now when’s the last time someone said that to her. On his knees he dropped, pressing his head to her stomach, rubbing up her thighs and butt.

“I’m sorry Okoye.” He whispered, beginning to lift her dress.

He didn’t get far until her grip was on his jaw, forcing him to look up at her. His gaze was hopeless and desperate as tears glossed over his eyes and hers.

“You can’t fuck your way out of this Attuma.”

“Then what can I do?”

“Tell me why…why did you do it?”

Attuma scoffed at the reason now. How childish was he to see her talking to the man he was trying to buy and get pissed beyond coherent thinking.

“Namor..you were talking to him so friendly and he- he likes you Okoye. I didn’t like it.” He admitted, rising to his feet.

“We were just talking! He gave me a stupid toy to ease my anxiety!”

“I didn’t fucking like it. He can’t sweet talk you right under my nose like that.”

“Jealous man.” She smirked, wiping the tears from her face.

He smiled up at her. “Yeah. I’ve never cared before but with you….it’s different. I don’t know.”

Okoye stepped back from him, looking at the mess around the floor.

“My clothes are collecting dust.” She crossed her arms as Attuma moved to pick them up.

All bunched up in his hands, he held them out to her, ready for her to take them and walk out the door with out so much as a second thought.

“What are you doing?” She chuckled. “They belong in the closet don’t they?”

@theeblackmedusa @tvreadsandsleep @pilesofpillows @xblackreader @mamajankyy @dontruinmymorning @attoye

[kiljoius-writes]

Favorite Poison

Ao3 | FFN

Full YOTP Series Found Here

Next Chapter Master Post

Pairing: Hanabi Hyūga/Konohamaru Sarutobi

Summary: They've never gotten along. How are they supposed to spend a vacation together?

Konohamaru braces himself to be tortured by Hanabi, not to fall in love with her.

July prompt: Enemies to Lovers

Rating: E for Smut

Chapter 1/5: Invitation

When Hanabi drops down from the top of the front gates of the Leaf Village with a pack strapped to her back, Konohamaru nearly turns on his heel and leaves.

“Oh, don’t look so frightened, Kono.” She reaches up to pat his head and he cringes away from her.

“Hm?” Hinata inquires, tilting her head at the two.

“Uhm…” Konohamaru darts his eyes over at Naruto who is grinning obliviously. “Big bro, you didn’t say…”

“Oh, yeah!” Naruto laughs, waving the group over. “Hinata invited Hanabi!”

“Big sister!” Himawari chirps as she bolts into Hanabi’s arms, who gladly picks her up and twirls her.

“Oh, someone’s glad to see me!” Hanabi responds brightly, holding the little girl above her head as she squeals in delight. When she plops her back on the ground, she raises her eyes to Konohamaru and furrows her eyebrows. “Unlike Kono.”

Konohamaru frowns purposefully low and sticks his tongue out at her. He catches the sight of her hand by her side with her middle finger up and he snorts. “Real nice, Hanabi.”

“I am nice, aw,” she sings, fingers rejoining the rest as she brings her hands to her cheeks, pushing them up so her eyes squint with a mocking smile. “Nice and cute, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Hinata nods, giggling. “Shall we?”

“You're happy to see me, aren’t you, Hima?” Konohamaru inquires, tilting his head down at the girl. She smiles and nods enthusiastically. He swiftly plucks her up now, too, and puts her on his shoulders. “More than big sis, right?”

“Huh?” Himawari asks with all the cutest naivety in the world while Hanabi glares at him.

“I wanna be carried!” Boruto whines, pouting up at Konohamaru. Before Hanabi can sneak in, Konohamaru's already swooping the boy up as well, tucking him under his arm.

“You’re gonna tire yourself out before we get there.” Naruto laughs, roughing his hand through Boruto’s hair.

“You’ll tire yourself out before we even make it out of the Leaf,” Hanabi quips quickly, smirking up at him. He huffs through his nose, refusing to pay her a look.

When Naruto asked him to come along on a vacation out to the Land of Waves, he hadn’t mentioned Hanabi would be there.

Well, he figured he had been invited mostly to keep an eye on Boruto and Himawari while Naruto and Hinata had some sort of alone time while they were there. He didn’t mind doing that, he enjoyed being around them. Now he knew it was a mistake to just assume things.

Hanabi and Konohamaru had never really gotten along.

Not that Hanabi ever let him show off what an amazing guy he is.

They graduated to genin at different times with Konohamaru being a year older, so they never really knew each other much before then.

Then she insisted on entering the chunin exams within a month of promotion to genin. Her sensei foolishly allowed this, and in the end, Konohamaru had been the one to beat her in the battle portion.

She never really let go of that.

And honestly, he never really felt bad about it, either.

It was the chunin exams. And it was nearly ten years ago, now!

They were adults, both in their twenties, and here she is, still holding onto something so petty. It's ridiculous, and he won’t be made to take pity on her. So he simply avoided her whenever possible, kept his distance if they missioned together, tried to make excuses to leave whenever she came around.

Of course, when Naruto and Hinata became an item, that became harder. A lot harder.

He almost resented the fact she drove a wedge in his relationship with Naruto. He was his big bro before she ever came into the picture, and now she acted like she’d been there the whole time. Like she deserved to intrude on their time. It was rude!

Once, Naruto suggested they go on a date when they were in their late teens.

They responded with a resounding refusal.

“HELL NO!”

“Absolutely NOT .”

It was probably the first time they were on the same page, both hurling glares at Naruto as he laughed at them.

Then, of course, Boruto would get involved.

“Aunt Temari and Uncle Shikamaru are married…so are Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai. So you guys are married, too.”

“Boruto, if I ever hear that out of your mouth again, you may have no mouth left to speak with.”

Boruto was confused, so Hinata gently explained it to him.

As Himawari got older, she was expressing similar sentiments. Thankfully, she was still young and didn’t really understand anything about relationships outside of the scope of her mother and father, and they were able to get ahead of it before it would become a problem.

At Himawari’s fourth birthday, Naruto pointed out that Konohamaru and Hanabi were getting kind of close to each other, and Himawari immediately launched.

“THEY’RE JUST FRIENDS PAPA.”

Oh, that was embarrassing.

Also a little funny, because they weren’t even friends.

Yes, a vacation sounded nice, but now with Hanabi here, it was bound to be hell.

Konohamaru braces himself and ignores Hanabi’s smirking gaze.

Hanabi specifically accepted this invite because Konohamaru would be there.

She never missed the chance to mess with him, no matter what.

Assigned a diplomatic mission, but Konohamaru was headed the same way on a shinobi mission? They should go together!

Taking Mirai, Boruto, and Himawari to the Tanabata festival? Hanabi deserved to go as their aunt.

Moegi inviting her out for drinks? Would Konohamaru be there? She’d be there, too.

Her cousins never let her forget the Third’s scrappy grandson took her down in the chunin exams, so she’d never let him forget her, either.

Her bids to spar with him often went unanswered, and if he did answer, it was always to leave him alone.

Was it petty? Absolutely, and she knew it.

What compelled her? She reasoned revenge. But it had been nearly ten years now. Maybe there were other reasons, but she chose not to think on those. It didn’t matter.

Besides, he wasn’t so bad to look at. Once they got into their late teens, in fact, he became downright good to look at. So that didn’t hurt. Not that she’d ever, ever dare to tell him that.

She chose to let him think that when she stared at him, it was because he looked like an alien to her.

“Give me my nephew,” she demands once they were a few kilometers out, Hinata and Naruto further ahead chatting happily.

“No.” He turns his nose up at her as Boruto struggles under his arm.

“Yes!” Boruto calls back, “this doesn’t feel good!”

Hanabi raises her eyebrows expectantly as Konohamaru sighs, leaning down to put the boy on the ground.

“Come here, Boruto,” she beckons him, “come to your favorite!”

Boruto stops and looks up at both of them, confusion on his face.

“Don’t do it, Boruto,” Konohamaru warns, glaring down at the boy.

“Come!” Hanabi holds out her hands. “Come on!”

“Boruto…”

“Boruto!”

“You’re being weird!” Boruto cries, bolting past them to grab at his mother’s skirt. Hinata looks down curiously, then looks back at the two. Hanabi huffs irritably and crosses her arms while Konohamaru chuckles.

“You think it’s funny to turn my nephew against me?!” Hanabi snaps, resisting the urge to punch his shoulder while he carries her niece.

“Kind of funny, yeah.” He nods, eyeing her.

“You’re an asshole.”

Himawari gasps and covers Konohamaru’s ears. His grin is shit-eating. “Big sis! Mommy said those words are bad.”

“Actually, Hima,” Hanabi starts, tilting her head, “I think they’re completely appropriate when it comes to certain Sarutobi’s.”

“Huh?” Himawari leans forward, completely confused by what she had said.

“You’re dumb, you know that?” Konohamaru pulls one of Himawari’s hands from his ears while looking at Hanabi. “You always talk to them like they’re adults. They’re kids, Lady Heiress.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Lady Princess? Princess Heiress? Or just princess? You act like one.”

“Big sis is a princess!” Himawari chimes in brightly, beaming down at Hanabi. Despite her frustration, she smiles up at her niece.

“Regardless, you’re not good with kids,” he points out, “you frighten them.”

“Himawari.” Hanabi reaches up for her niece and pulls her off of Konohamaru who doesn’t put up much of a fight. She settles her on her hip.” Do I frighten you?”

Himawari is silent for a moment as she tilts her head. “Yes.”

Konohamaru howls.

“What?!” Hanabi gasps, “why?!”

“When your eyes get all big and pop.” Himawari points up at her face. “But I still love you!”

Hanabi sighs, shaking her head. She sets the girl down, ushers her away with a, “go to your father, Hima.”

“Okay!” Himawari skips ahead of them to catch up with the rest of the Uzumaki’s.

“Told you.” Konohamaru smirks that ugly smirk, resting his hands behind his neck. “Lady Hanabi Hyuga, terrorizing children everywhere she goes.”

“You’re a dick,” she huffs, looking away, “and soft. Maybe they love you so much because they can tell you’re just a weak idiot. They can take advantage of you.”

“That’s harsh.” He raises an eyebrow. “Wasn’t so soft when I took you down in the chūnin exams...”

Now she punches his arm and he recoils, hissing. “And you’ve never given me a rematch. I would bury you if you did, and that’s why you always say no.”

Konohamaru snickers, shaking his head.

“Coward.”

His laughter is quickly cut off and he frowns, glaring at her. “Don’t go there.”

“Go where?” she asks, innocently pulling her hands behind her back to clasp. “Point out that you're afraid? Afraid of the big bad Hyūga? Because you know she’d beat your ass?” His face is quickly turning red and it brings her a high amount of amusement. “You are a coward!”

“I’m gonna go ahead and quit this conversation now, before I do something I regret.”

“Mhm. Coward.”

“Hanabi…”

“Hm?”

“You’re a bitch.”

Now she laughs, loudly. “Excuse me?!”

Konohamaru stares at the ground with wide eyes.

Did that really come out of his mouth?

Couldn’t be. He’d never—

“Yeah, I said it.”

Oh gods. I’ll be dead within minutes.

Hanabi clicks her tongue and he feels her eyes boring a hole into him. “You’re right.”

“What?” He looks up, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and anger. “The hell?”

“When did you grow balls, little Sarutobi?” She punches his arm lightly now, almost fondly, smirking up at him.

Konohamaru contemplates for a moment. “Moegi says that term is outdated.”

“Oh, right. We’re saying ovaries now.”

Now Konohamaru laughs, feeling a little more relaxed. “Uh—sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Sure you did.” She doesn't look at him. “And I mean it, too. You’re a coward.”

Konohamaru glares at her as she skips ahead to catch up with her sister.

Never mind.

A few hours later after avoiding interacting with her, halfway to the Land of Waves, they stop at a little village that specialized in tourism. Everything one could need for a trip to the coastal city: beach balls, surfboards, floaties, sunscreen, sand toys, and more. Hinata and Naruto left the kids in their care while they went to inspect the food stands.

Konohamaru has a funny idea.

“Since I’m your favorite,” he declares, causing both kids to look up at him as they stop in front of a bright, colorful toy store, “we’re gonna go in there and I’m buying you each whatever toy you want.”

“Really?!” Boruto gasps, and Himawari is already bolting into the store.

Hanabi lowers her eyes at him, he can see it in his peripheral, and he smirks, ushering Boruto in.

They follow the kids as they inspect toy after toy until Himawari lands on a large, stuffed giraffe.

“This one!” she proclaims. It's bigger than her. Konohamaru frowned.

“Well, actually…that’s kind of big to be carrying around, Hima. We’d have to carry it back…”

Hanabi cuts in, “I’ll get it for you, Hima.”

“Yay, big sister!” she squeals as Hanabi picked it up.

“Since I’m your favorite,” Hanabi speaks mockingly at Konohamaru as she crouches down, pushing the giraffe’s face to Himawari's cheek and making a kissing sound, “right?”

“Yes!” Himawari confidently says, throwing her arms around the giraffe.

“You’re carrying it,” Konohamaru scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“No, you are. You are the one who offered.” Hanabi shoves it into his arms and then goes after Boruto.

Konohamaru holds the giraffe in front of him and glares at it.

As Konohamaru pays for the toys the kids picked out, they exit together, and Hanabi beckons them. “Big sister is going to get you two ice cream!”

Hanabi smirks at Konohamaru’s look of disapproval.

“Ice cream, too?!” Boruto yells, eyes filled with wonder. Hanabi nods enthusiastically, leading them to an ice cream stand.

Boruto immediately points at the last item on the menu, a picture of a waffle cone topped with five different colored scoops of ice cream, whip cream, chocolate drizzle, sprinkles, and a cherry. Hanabi grimaces, avoiding Konohamaru’s knowing look. “Uhm, Boruto…you’ll never finish it, and you’ll get a tummy ache—”

“I’ll get it.” Konohamaru steps in, pulling out his coin pouch and Hanabi purses her lips, squinting at it.

“YES! Big bro for the win!” Boruto fist-pumps. She catches Konohamaru biting back a laugh as she scowls.

“Since I’m your favorite,” Konohamaru speaks in the same mocking tone she had used as he grasps the cone, then crouches in front of Boruto and offers it forward, “right?”

“Oh yeah!” Boruto greedily grabs the cone out of his hands and immediately bites into it.

“He’s going to be sick,” Hanabi growls toward him as she passes off a cup of strawberry ice cream to Himawari.

“And you’ll clean it up. You are the one who offered.” He looks at her, his grin wide.

Somehow, they had spent a good hour playing this game, indulging the children in too many presents and sweets until Hinata hastily collected them, scolding them for their recklessness.

They promptly broke off from one another without kids to look after, and Konohamaru finds himself inspecting a jewelry stand outside of a shop Hinata had gone inside with Himawari and Boruto. He examines it closely, trying to find the cheapest thing possible to bring back Moegi, who had insisted he find her a souvenir. He may like her better than Hanabi, but he wasn’t about to drop a chunk of change on some stupid accessory for her.

Then he hears whistling next to his head and a loud thud. On instinct, chakra begins flowing through his extremities as he jerks up to find the attacker—someone coming for Naruto?

His mouth drops open at the sight of Hanabi on top of a restaurant, crouched next to its chimney, grinning down at him.

“Oh my,” the woman running the stand whispers, having gone pale white at the attack, “is that a kunai? You—" She pointed at Konohamaru’s headband. “—shinobi! Leave, take your business elsewhere!”

Konohamaru ignores the woman as he turns to Hanabi, folding his arms. “Really, Hanabi?”

She snickers and hops from the roof of the restaurant to the roof of the shop next to the jewelry stand. “Fight me, Konohamaru Sarutobi!”

“You’re insane!” he yells back, instinctively reaching for his satchel, “we’re in civilian territory!”

“Spar, then!” she demands, standing tall with her hands on her hips. “Don’t be a coward!”

“You’re gonna learn a hard lesson if you keep saying that shit,” he shoots back, leaping onto the roof to shove his fingertip into her forehead. She promptly grabs the finger and twists, hard.

“Come on, Honorable Grandson.” She uses her other hand to grab his shoulder, forcing him down as he growls in frustration. “Teach me a lesson.”

Then she's on the hard ground below them, back slamming loudly. Everyone in the center of the village freezes.

He hops down and promptly puts his foot on her chest to restrain her. “Stay down, little Hyūga.”

“Oooh.” He didn’t expect the giggle and also didn’t expect to end up crashing into the jewelry stand.

No souvenir from this little village, he supposes.

Hanabi feels excitement bubble in her chest as she hops to her feet. She knows her eyes must look unhinged as she marches toward where Konohamaru lay in the broken wood. She plucks a sack of coins from her satchel and drops them in the old woman’s hands without even paying her a glance.

“This—this is unacceptable!” she cries. Then she opens the sack and her jaw fell. She promptly closes it, humming.

“You’re deranged,” he breathes as he peels himself up, all eyes still on the pair.

“Coward, coward, coward!” she proclaims far too proud, beaming at him as he stomps towards her, chakra flaring around his hands. She skips backward, ducking as he attempted to swipe at her. “Hit me, come on!”

She laughs as she continues dodging his attacks, fully enjoying the way his face becomes nearly purple with frustration. Just as he thinks he's about to get a hit in, she stabs her fingers into his side with a little chakra and cackles as he buckles.

But that had apparently been an act, because he immediately rolls forward and grabs her legs, forcing her to go tumbling into another stand, the wood cracking under her body.

He pulls himself up, but she's already up, too, and tackling him back down. She swings her legs over him and focuses chakra in her palm to close a chakra point. She gasps as he grabs her wrist and jerks his knee up, pushing the flat of his foot right into her chest to throw her backward.

“Shit!” she curses, skidding on her heel as he sprang to his feet.

“You’re gonna regret this, Hanabi!” he warns, pulling his hands together to start creating that familiar blue ball of chakra.

“Don’t think so!” she calls back, dipping her stance with her palms out.

“Raseng-“

“Rotat-“

Hanabi gasps as she feels herself yanked by the collar, and in a blur, she's being thrown to the ground in an unfamiliar area. She darts her eyes around, finding Konohamaru in the same position next to her, then—Naruto’s angry face, right in theirs.

“The hell are you two doing?!” Naruto demands, reaching out with both his bandaged hand and human hand to jab their foreheads. They both groan and reach up to cover the hit spot.

“She started it—”

“He was being—”

“I don’t care!” Naruto announces, straightening back out. “Whatever it is you two need to do, get it out of the way—WITHOUT civilians around!” He turns his back to them as he heads back to the little village. “Catch up when you're done, and don’t come back until you can be normal human beings with each other!”

“That’s great—” Konohamaru huffs as he climbs to his feet, “just great, Hanabi! Look what you did! You’re a damn psycho—”

“I’m not done!” Hanabi hops to her feet, stomping up to him. He glares down at her, shaking his head. He watches as white chakra flares around her hands and sighs, grabbing her wrists to pull them apart.

“I am.”

“No!” Her voice turns almost whiny as she tore her hands from his. “Fight me!” She reeled her hand back. “I demand it!”

“I know you’re used to people doing whatever you say,” he says as he blocks a hit, stepping backward, “but I’m not one of your little subjects!” Another hit, and his frustration's about to bubble over. “Hanabi! Knock it off!”

She doesn't respond as her hits came faster and harder and he finally letsout an exhausted groan, grabbing her forearm and twisting it.

“Don’t make me put you down like a damn dog,” he growls, shoving her toward the ground.

She immediately rolls over, propping herself up on her elbows, and winks. “Try it, babe.”

“Babe—?”

That was a mistake. She catches him off guard, and now he's being thrown right into the base of a tree.

Konohamaru is done.

If she wants him to put her in her place, then he had no choice but to oblige.

They went on like that for far too long, probably, but Konohamaru had no time to think about it because Hanabi really was a better fighter now.

She had been good when they battled in the chūnin exams, but she was truly powerful now. That gentle fist was no joke, he was just glad she hadn’t been able to close his primary chakra point. He briefly wondered whether she was intentionally avoiding it, but quickly decided that was certainly impossible. She’d have closed it straight away if she could, so he continued protecting his chest as they gradually became battered and bruised.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he has her pinned on the ground. He uses his shins to keep hers down (so she couldn’t kick) and shoves her wrists into the earth above her head (so she couldn’t punch), leans down to settle his chest on hers (so she couldn’t get leverage) and presses his forehead to her forehead (so she couldn’t headbutt him, because he knows she'd try). It was a hold Ebisu-sensei had taught him, and while it was fairly intimate (and uncomfortable for a grown man on top of a boy to be doing), it was effective.

He feels her chest heaving against his and has to assume she felt his, too. They're both taking haggard breaths as their eye contact remained unbroken.

Then she tilts her head up and her lips were on his.

He freezes—paralyzed, really. He doesn't even realize his grip has loosened on her wrists, and—

“FUCK!” he yells as he rolls off of her, clutching his chest.

Now she's on top of him, grinning that wild grin down at him as she holds his shoulders down. “Want me to close another?”

“Cheater!” he gasps, rubbing his chest, realizing that it wasn't his primary chakra point she’d closed—but damn, it was close. “You’re a damn cheat!”

“Art of seduction,” she damn near purs the words into his ear, leaning in close, until their noses were touching, and his eyes blow wide. “It’s part of the shinobi way, Konohamaru.”

“That was sexual harassment.”

“Oh please!” she laughs, pressing her forehead against his, “don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

Konohamaru presses his lips in a thin line, glaring up at her.

Truth be told, he's not really sure if he did or not. He has no time to think about it.

Because in just as quick a motion, he grabs the back of her head and forces her to close the little distance that remained between their lips.

“Mmph—” she gasps against him, and he's…surprised that she hadn’t resisted. She hadn’t resisted at all.

And Konohamaru's not really sure what comes over him, because he finds his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her flush against him. He pulls his knees up between hers, forcing her legs to straddle around his abdomen, and she's pushing down and he realizes—

Konohamaru Sarutobi is locked in a passionate kiss that Hanabi Hyūga is returning. Eagerly.

So he rolls her over and forces his knees between hers, resting his hips against hers as her arms wrap around his neck.

Is this actually happening?

He pulls the arm from around her back to grab her waist, burying his fingers there as her nails dig into his scalp, head tilting and lips parting. His head goes cloudy as he feels her tongue swipe against his lips, forcing them to immediately part for access on instinct. He pushes his tongue against hers, letting her run hers over his top teeth—he's not sure a girl had ever licked his teeth before but finds he doesn't hate it. Then he pushes back, attaching his teeth to her bottom lip and tugging it. When she lets out a breathy moan, he bites down harder.

Once he feels her hips rock up into his is when he knows he's on the edge—of what, he's not sure, but he's going to be shoved off it if he doesn’t stop this, now.

He quickly pulls his arms from her body, hands planted on the ground as he tears himself off of her. He stops to observe her in the seconds he has. Her face is flush, her lips swollen, her eyes closed, and she's leaning up as if to bring him back.

“Hanabi—” he breathes, causing her to pop her eyes open, “—what the hell?”

As if clarity had rushed her senses, her eyes turn fiery. “PERVERT!”

Next Chapter ->

[purplesurveys]

1620

Spell your name without any R's, I's, G's, or E's: Obyn.

Is there anyone on your mind? Nobody, really. I don’t usually think of people – instead, I’m always just looking for the next thing I should be worrying about lol. 

Describe your bra: It’s a black tube bralette. Do you ever want kids? I did for a time. I wanted to be a mother. But my previous relationship turned out to be very traumatic that I was turned off from that whole lifestyle altogether; not interested in dating, not interested in having kids, I don’t even daydream about my wedding anymore. I’m excited to have nieces and nephews though! I feel like I’ll live out my love for kids through that route instead. What are you looking forward to this summer? I’m so sick of these season-related questions.

How are you doing in school? I had to give a fuck for me to be doing excellently; but I didn’t care for most of my classes so I was more of a boring above average student instead. Did just enough to pass every grade without issue, but I also had the occasional achievement like getting the highest exam score in the class. In college I was more proactive in doing better since I wanted to graduate with honors, which I was able to do.

What color do you like most today? Purple.

Rain or sunny? Rain!

Live close to a beach? Not at all. You’d have to drive north or south to the provinces to get to the beachy areas. Otherwise, in this area, it’s just one concrete jungle after another. What does your hair look like, normally? Dry and frizzy. It looks a lot healthier when the temperature is lower, but obviously we never get that here, so dry and frizzy it usually is.

What are your thoughts on marijuana? I don’t have much of a relationship with it other than having a bad experience last year. I know it has a medical debate around it too but I honestly don’t know much about that side to have a stance. When was the last time you spent the night with someone? That would be two Saturdays ago when I had friends sleep over.

What song are you listening to, if any? I Need U by BTS just started playing.

Pretend that you are five years older, what would you be doing right now? In another country drinking wine even though I hate it to feel fancy.

What subjects are you good in? History and any kind of social science, really. Ever kissed someone whose name started with an X? Nope.

Any complaints? My braces are so tight and uncomfortable and I just wanna get back to eating more solid food.

What's your favorite alcoholic beverage? Cocktails.

Do you miss anyone? Just BTS.

Who's on your top friends? Social media doesn’t do this anymore.

--

1. Is there something you have been trying to learn lately? I think Korean counts? I’m always constantly trying to pick up new phrases and sayings and vocabulary to add to my mental bank. I can read Hangul at an acceptable rate now and can even distinguish satoori at this point...but grammar is just impossible to master. I never know where the nouns and subjects and verbs go hahaha.

2. If you ever feel like you are different from your extended family, in which ways is this? In some ways. I am most definitely NOT religious, which is blatant on both sides. A portion of my mom’s side is actually pretty modern-thinking (not homophobic, fine with same-sex relationships, the whole shebang) which I appreciate; though my dad’s side is generally super conservative and has the shittiest political opinions so on both fronts we’re very different.

3. When you think about your future career, do you envision yourself becoming the head honcho or CEO? If not, why not? No, I’m not interested or even knowledgeable about running-the-business type of things and don’t think I’d be capable of doing a good job at all. 4. Is there something that you are sort of weird about talking about? Like, a thing that other people find casual, but you feel uncomfortable when the subject comes up? That’s a good question. One thing would be the pandemic – all my friends are pretty well off so none of them were actually affected too much and all of their stories are just “I learned how to do this or that” “I spent all my time doing this or that”; but both my parents are in the hospitality industry and were hit pretty hard, as was our family altogether. With no money flowing into the home, every day was spent worrying if we’d be able to afford groceries, when they can be able to work again, hoping none of us get sick so that we didn’t have to spend on hospital bills, etc. It was the closest we ever got to poverty.

This is not to say that I’m ashamed of the fact that we had to sell one of our cars or that my dad had to be a delivery worker that entire time – I am especially proud of the latter – but it’s just a topic I hate venturing into only because I never want to remember the struggles we went through anymore. 5. Can you think of a time when you seriously misjudged a music artist based on their name? Oh I remember judging “Beyond the Scene” way too fucking much when I wasn’t into K-pop yet. 

6. Do you ever make negative comments about other body types? How does it make you feel when you see or hear negative comments about your body type, or a physical trait that you have (even when it’s not directed at you)? Uhm, not really but it’s also because I never get into conversations where I get to talk about different body types. As for comments...I don’t care. I feel pretty comfortable in my own skin, so hearing stuff about my body type doesn’t faze me too much. It most likely comes from insecure people, anyway. 

7. If you are in a situation where you feel like you are being attacked or not respected, how easy or difficult is it for you to stay and keep your head rather than leave in a huff? I either bite back or stay doing what I’m doing until I’m able to prove myself to those people.

9. When you think about how attractive you feel and your favorite features, are you comparing yourself to a societal ideal? Eh, not so much. Again, what matters to me is simply if I feel comfortable and confident about myself. If the answer to that is yes, that’s all I really need.

10. If you have a favorite song right now: What is it? How did you first hear it? Why do you like it so much? Closer by RM, Paul Blanco, and Mahalia. It actually used to be one of my ‘least’ favorite (or at least, least listened to) tracks off Indigo, which is funny due to how my relationship with it eventually panned out. I’m now obsessed with it and is one of my top favorites from the album.

I love the song because it’s very...honest. Real. Raw. I don’t think I’ll ever forget about the despair in Joon’s voice when he sings “Stay where you are.” 

11. Have you ever had someone that has been your friend for a while come to you and tell you they had romantic feelings for you? How did you respond, and did the friendship survive? This has happened, but I was on the other side of the coin; I was the one who did the reveal. The next day they told me the feelings were mutual, and we were together from there on out. No, the friendship didn’t survive when we broke up 6 years later.

12. Hypothetically speaking, if Hillary Clinton were running for President as a democrat against Chris Christie as a republican in 2016, who do you predict would win the election? Wow, US politics, can totally relate.

13. When you are getting to know someone new online (particularly someone male), how cautious are you of the possibility that they are serial killer/kidnapper? I don’t like making guy friends online as they might be a creep.

14. If you are talking to someone that you want to get to know, what are your go-to conversation topics? What subject makes you disappointed when another person isn’t interested in or knowledgable about it? Usually I just kind of poke different topics here and there until I can pinpoint an interest of theirs, regardless if I’m familiar with it or not, so that they can start to open up. I love to see people get all excited about the things they love :)

As for the second question, I don’t usually get disappointed! Different people are into different things, so if someone isn’t into K-pop or Breaking Bad or YouTubers or whatever, I don’t get affected and I just try searching for something else to talk about.

15. Say you have a lot of free time and want to join a club or class. You are browsing postings on local bulletin boards and online. What sort of group would you be interested in joining (e.g., book club, game group, crafts, golf lessons, etc.)? Anything related to K-pop or learning Korean history/culture/language.

16. Have you ever kissed someone that you didn’t really want to kiss (not assault, just indifference)? Why did you go along with it and how did you feel after? No. I’m asexual as asexual gets so I’m very clear about not being a fan of intimate physical contact.

17. Have you recently learned anything about your personality? If not, have you ever consciously tried to change your personality? I have recently learned that I am not as trusting of people as I think I am, particularly work-wise. I haven’t realized that I have the tendency to do 10x more work than is required of me, oftentimes leaving my teammates dry with nothing to do; until Bea told me straight up to learn how to delegate because that’s the only way everyone else can learn how to do things.

18. Are you or any of your friends in a sorority or fraternity? Would you be interested in belonging to one? I cut off everyone I know if I find out they’re part of a frat; but one of my closest friends from college is part of one. I still correspond with him but we never raise the topic of frats; but if ever it does come up I also wouldn’t hesitate to call him out on it because gross.

19. Can you recall a recent time that you were surprised, but in a bad way? Last week when I was headed to Kim Seonho’s fan meet! I was SO excited to head to the arena and get my ticket processed and get to my seat and all, but I totally missed the memo to wear blue (I was wearing the brightest yellow jacket known to man). I was already at the elevator which would lead you to the arena when it was quickly evident that I was the only yellow-wearing motherfucker out of the sea of blue, so naturally I panicked and decided right then and there that I was gonna have to take a quick sprint to the mall to get the first blue shit I’d find lmao. 

20. Do you feel uncomfortable when you receive praise for doing certain things? If so, does this make you less likely to do those things? Not uncomfortable, but I just deflect the complements haha. But I find the next question weird – why would I stop doing something when it’s clearly the ‘right’ or ‘acceptable’ thing to do?

21. Do you make spontaneous purchases often or rarely? When you are upset does it make you temporarily happier to buy yourself something new? Nah, I’m not that spontaneous anymore and have been more conscious of what I’m spending on and how much I’m saving. The most reckless I get these days is just getting food delivery and manipulating myself to think “I deserve it” because “I’ve worked hard,” lol.

22. If you have to wake up early for something, what time is just TOO early for you to be there and be presentable and sentient? Have you ever had to be somewhere that early? 6 AM and 7 AM calltimes are beyond ridiculous. Fortunately I have not had a lot of those.

23. Have the majority of your romantic relationships started with a physical attraction or a deeper connection? Deeper connection.

24. Do you ever catch any of those conspiracy shows on Animal Planet, like Bigfoot hunting or proof of Mermaids? Do those shows make your more or less likely to believe in the existence of such creatures? Nah.

25. Did you ever write a fan letter to a celebrity? How about submit something to a magazine? Yeah I submitted this written material for a magazine when they were giving away an iPod shuffle to the best entry. I never heard back from them.

--

What do you think makes you a good girlfriend or boyfriend? I’d pretty much bend over backwards to make them happy and comfortable. I also remember things, which as far as I know is something people appreciate.

When was the last time you went to the movie theaters? What movie did you see? I went in 2019 to see Knives Out which I personally had no interest in seeing but because my partner at the time wanted to, I went ahead and kept them company and tried to appreciate the movie too. I hate having to keep giving this as an answer (both because it’s been repetitive over the last three years and because of the person I watched it with), so I’m OVER THE MOON in sharing that I will be going back to the cinema this Wednesday to watch Yet to Come: Busan with friends! I have an outfit picked out, I’ve had my leave filed for the last three weeks, and I’m just so ready to go and relive the show again.

Did you ever go to a mental hospital? No. Just like the rehab question I answered in a recent survey, I don’t think we even have reputable mental health facilities here. Anything to do with issues like teenage pregnancy, drugs, mental health etc is a very underdeveloped sector here.

Do you watch the show, Ghost Whisperer? How about, NCIS? What two completely different shows haha. No, I’ve never seen either.

Do you like s’mores? Nah and I don’t like smores-flavored stuff either. Way too sweet and I dislike marshmallows anyway. Do you like to watch those old scary movies, from like 1980? I’ve seen a few, like Carrie, The Shining, and The Exorcist; loved them all.

Does your mom/dad smoke? They don’t.

How often do you take a shower? Every other night. But during hotter months, I do it daily. Do you wear flip flops in winter? We don’t have winter.

How old are you? I’m 24.

When was the last time you went to a concert? What band? Hmm...does a fanmeet count? They’re basically set up and promoted just like a concert, but since the main attractions are actors they do entertaining stuff like play games, answer quirky questions, and recreate scenes instead of sing. Anyway, I went to Seonho’s last Sunday and had so much fun. Do you ever have hallucinations? I do not.

Do you believe that weed should be legalized? I guess, for medicinal purposes. Idk enough about the marijuana discourse to have any stronger opinion though. Did you ever feel someone was following you/watching you? Not for real; I just get paranoid easily and assume people going the same route as I am and are matching my pace are following me.

Are you one of those over-obsessed Twilight fans? When I was in elementary school when it was big, for sure. I had multiple copies of the first book, attended midnight screenings, had posters up in my room, and even bought those behind-the-scenes photobooks. I’ve definitely been tamer after the movie series ended, but people still know me as the Twilight megafan and I’m not ashamed of it hahaha.

Got any scars? How about bruises? I have scars from falls I had as a kid, and one big one from Cooper. I don’t think I have any bruises at present.

Have you moved here from a different country? I’ve never moved to a different country.

Are you afraid of the dark? I’d only be scared if the situation was meant to be scary? like if I’ve found myself at an abandoned hospital or whatever, haha. But generally I am not, and when I sleep I really prefer it to be pitch black. Have you ever been stalked? Fortunately, no. Do you like when people tell you they love you? It feels nice but as I am not an openly affectionate person, I can feel kind of awkward saying it back. The only people I’m comfortable saying I love you to are my close friends.

Would you say your taste in music is in a very broad spectrum? I wouldn’t say it’s a spectrum; it’s more of straight-up extremes haha. I largely listen to K-pop/rap these days but sometimes I’d revisit my punk rock favorites. Don’t really listen to anything else in between.

Have you ever had a significant other with a mental disorder? Idk, probably. 

Do you like doing laundry? Not really.

Have any siblings? How many? I’ve got two.

Do you like beer? Dislike it but I would get a bottle if everyone else at the table’s drinking.

Do you sip your shots or down em all at once? Down just to get it over with.

Have you ever counted your scars? Back during my sh days yeah.

What website do you spend way too much time on? YouTube. I have videos playing all day, man. What is one thing that you absolutely despise about your personality? I put myself in too many inconvenient situations just so that others can have it easier. I have to learn how to be selfish lol.

What two colors do you think look best together? Beige and olive green.

Do you take any medications that make you nauseous? Nope.

Have you ever tried Nutella? Yep. I don’t like it as a spread, but I can enjoy Nutella-flavored stuff. Idk if it that makes sense? like I need Nutella to be mixed with other ingredients (Oreo bits, almonds, etc) for me to enjoy it, because otherwise I find it too sweet on its own.

Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? No, but I like re-watching comfort shows, like Friends or Brooklyn Nine Nine.

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

Where do you hang your towel to dry after showering?

usually over the shower rod

What kind of mouse pad do you have?

I don’t have a desktop, only laptop so that ‘mouse pad’ is it

Do you brush your hair with a comb or a brush?

my hair is thick as shit so combs don’t work, always brush

In your opinion, who do you think is the hottest celebrity?

oh I can name many lol 

You have a project due tomorrow, do you use tape or glue?

depends on what I have, and what the project is (how detailed, the materials, etc.)

Chicken or pork?

both

By the time you get to school, is it still dark?

got* considering I graduated in 2010 (fuck I’m old) and no, the sun was already up even if it was still pretty low it was light out

If you had a choice to be a unicorn or mermaid which would it be?

normally I’d love to say mermaid but the unknown depths and darkness of the ocean fuckin terrify me and I’m not a fast runner so I’m sure I’d be too slow a swimmer to get away too lol so unicorn

What color is your underwear?

a pale lavender sorta color

What time does the sun usually set?

depends on the season/daylight savings/weather...but usually around 7-730pm it’s getting dark fast

What/who do you think of last before you go to sleep?

every damn thing imaginable :| insomnia and multiple mental illnesses are a greaaaat combo for sleep!

AC or fan?

ALWAYS BOTH 24/7, 365! yes even through winter! due to a medical condition, one of several, I overheat very easily and for long periods of time to where even both of these can’t even make a dent to cooling me down...

Do you wear braces?

no, did in the past at one point for about a year

Can you do a hand stand?

I used to be able to when I was a young kid in gymnastics and dance, but haven’t been able to since

If you were the opposite sex, how would you style your hair?

hmm...probably a slightly longer tousled look that you just wanna run your fingers through 

What level English are you in?

I’m not in school but when I graduated I was in honors level English Lit 2

Jessica Simpson or Alba?

neither really, never been a big fan of either

Which subject is worse, English or Math?

Math for sure...used to ace it and love it till I moved around so much I fell so far behind everyone else, repeated the same level three times, and then was violently skyrocketed up to honors level of Algebra 2 which damn near STOPPED me from graduating that’s how bad I failed cause I couldn’t grasp anything we were learning anymore...I skated by with that one and still managed to graduate with honors but it was hell to manage that

What’s one thing you really want to do this very moment?

get violently black out drunk again..being and staying sober fucking sucks :(

What movie are you embarrassed to admit you’ve watched?

Penelope with Christina Ricci...it had its wholesome moments for the message, and I fuckin love her to death in anything she’s in but she’s the only reason I even watched it. otherwise the movie itself just...dear god what did I do...lol

CD player or iPOD?

ohhhhh iPod/iPhone now obviously, but if I’m handed a CD player you know I’m tripping hard on nostalgia with it! 

Would you rather spin upside down going 30 miles or drop 400 ft. into water?

neither sound real good for me considering certain reasons...but if I had to pick, spin cause my luck the damn drop would either kill me or I’d break damn near everything in my body. haven’t you ever heard hitting water from a certain height is equivalent to hitting concrete??!

Whats your favorite shape?

hmm I’d say stars

What do you have planned for the weekend?

nothing so far, gonna see if we’re going to my fiance’s parents house for Easter dinner we haven’t seen them since early last year cause he’s barely ever home due to work

Have you ever gone ice skating?

yep

If you were put in a room with nothing except for a pencil and paper, what

…what?

Is it always easy finding your remote every time you want to watch TV?

oh dear fucking god XD noooooo! we’re constantly losing one or two together all the damn time it’s bullshit!

How was your day?

meh, bored as all hell but it’s Good Friday which means my fiance had off today so there’s that :D

Do you grow your nails, bite or cut them?

grow till a certain point then I’ll clip em, rinse repeat...usually the max point before I clip em is when I’m typing with fingerpads rather than fingertips cause my nails are in the way lol so it’s harder to type (not terribly long, just long enough past the fingertip)

Describe your handwriting:

I’ve always been one to change a few things up every now and then when I get bored of my handwriting lol but more on the rushed, a bit sloppy bubbly side overall I guess you could say

Do you consider yourself a stalker?

hell no that’s creepy

Do you bruise easily?

yep always have most of the time I never even know how or when the hell I got said bruises they just show up lol

There`s nothing on TV except Barney and Japanese news what do you do?

Roku is your friend!

Do you know more then 3 myspace codes?

no I wouldn’t even remember at this point how to even make a profile or post or anything it’s been too long

You got a essay due, you either can type or write in pen, which will it be?

type, unless specifically asked/required to write it...doesn’t really matter to me

Do you wear jeans to relax at home?

I LIVE in jeans dude XD

Describe yourself using three words.

Smart, loyal, stubborn

Do you use deodorant?

yep

Do you like ice in your drink?

yeah but I need to be careful given highly sensitive teeth

[carbon--14]

OKAY @soloiho I TRIED MY BEST TO FIND PICS AND I COULDN’T FIND MUCH OF ANYTHING i’m so sorry!!! the only time i ever recorded myself playing was for homework assignments so they all look like they’re filmed in a potato but!! i’ll yell about my guitars anyway and use basic pics lol. BRACE YOURSELF THIS IS GONNA BE LONG

i have 4 guitars total, and i’ve named all of them. my first one i ever got was a squier mini strat in dakota red (not candy apple like i thought lol). i named it cherry. my parents got it for me when i was five because my dad wanted to teach me to play, but it was a 3/4 and way too big for me at the time, so i never really took it up until about 2015ish. it’s a bit too small for me now and by far the worst quality guitar i own, so i don’t play it much anymore! cherry is very much an entry level guitar so the neck doesn’t feel too great and the electronics are… mediocre. please excuse the fact that this looks like it was filmed on a literal potato, but here’s cherry:

this pic is from back in 2016 after i slapped a bunch of stickers on it because i thought it was cool. the sushi and game controller ones i get but… i have no idea what the paper bag is.

anyway by 2016 i’d started taking guitar classes in school and skipped immediately from the intermediate level to the highest level possible in the program because i’d been playing for a while, so my parents decided that it was time for an upgrade, so we got SHADOW. MY BELOVED. he’s a fender modern player telecaster plus in transparent charcoal, hence the name (not related to the hedgehog, ironically. back in ‘16 i hadn’t picked up a sonic game since lost world for about 5 minutes and unwiished before that, and i wouldn’t pick up another one until frontiers). anyway look at him!!!! you can’t really tell in the first pic but the paint job is transparent so you can see the woodgrain underneath and it’s gorgeous.

shadz is my go-to guitar for everything, he’s the first guitar i ever really felt like was mine and i learned most of what i know on, and there’s a slight bit of wear and tear from over the years. he’s a solid mid-range guitar, pretty heavy but i’m used to it. i’m not huge on the smooth maple neck, but i’m so comfortable with him at this point it doesn’t matter, and it’s worth it for the god tier electronics setup. strat pickup, tele pickup, and humbucker, with a 5 way switch and a splitter for the humbucker, so this guitar is by far the most versatile one i have! another reason why he’s my absolute favorite.

unfortunately back in 2020 one of the legs of my desk broke (thanks ikea) and the table came crashing down and accidentally smacked into shadow. the damage wasn’t too bad but now he has this little blemish and i wanna get something to cover it up, so i’m genuinely thinking getting a vinyl sticker with the shadow game logo on it in red. y’know, to lean into the name. i think it would look badass.

then in 2018 i got my only acoustic to date, orpheus! he’s a fender fa-135CE concert acoustic, and he sounds GODLY for a guitar that was under $200. i don’t really have much to say about this one other than he’s the guitar i go to when i just wanna noodle around and write something. super light and the tone has a good mix of midrange and warmness, and the neck is small so it’s good for messing around on. i spent a lot of my time in the early 2020 days of quarantine songwriting on my front porch with this guitar.

and finally. my newest guitar and the one that it still blows my mind that i own to this day. this was my graduation gift. i got a massive scholarship to my current school that cut my tuition down to a fifth of what it was supposed to be, so we decided to get something special for me and my dad to bond over. so we got annie!! LOOK AT HER. she’s iconic she’s showstopping she IS the moment

she’s an ernie ball music man st. vincent goldie in silk chartreuse. this guitar model is a collaboration between ernie ball music man (a VERY famous and reputable guitar maker) and st. vincent (one of my favorite musicians, a guitar god, and also annie’s namesake— st. vincent’s real name is annie clark) and holy fuck does it live up to its development and price tag. she’s my dream guitar and i cannot explain to you how incredible she is to play. like. the ebony fretboard feels like silk and it practically glides under your fingers, the weight of the instrument is perfect, the cut of the body is designed for people with larger chests so it’s one of the most comfortable guitars i have ever played, and the pickups are gold foil mini humbuckers and HOLY FUCK DO THEY SOUND AMAZING. this is one of the guitars jack white plays and it can do everything from soft jazz tones to shrieking riffs. i love her.

gahh i’m so sorry for rambling!!!! i love these things and i miss them so much, i currently live in a dorm so the only one i have with me right now is shadow!!! and i have no time anymore. but once i move into my apartment next year they’re all coming with, i’m so excited to be able to play more again!!!

?!?!?! fellow guitar enjoyer ?!?!

YES HELLO!!! like i said being an engineering major is kicking my ass so i haven’t played in forever but i absolutely adore music and guitars specifically!!! i got my first guitar (candy apple red squire strat that i still have) when i was 5 or 6 and i’ve been playing seriously for about 8 years now. my dad loves guitars too so between me and him combined we have… way too many guitars since he’s been collecting them since he was my age but i’d be happy to gush about mine!! they’re nothing special (well. except for one) but they’re some of my favorite things in the world

[drurrito]

enough

a/n: still working on my other stories, here’s a college au in the meantime

summary: Natasha does everything, but is it ever enough?

warnings: suggestive themes, cursing

————————

Natasha doesn’t believe this is happening.

“I just think we’re better off as friends,” there’s a flash of Steve’s signature All-American smile and she fights every urge to slap it into next Tuesday.

Natasha feels the familiar buzzing of anger under her skin, there’s another emotion swirling around too but she can’t quite name it. Maybe it’s relief that she doesn’t have to entertain his teammates when they crash his apartment for another 2k tournament anymore. Perhaps it’s sadness, knowing that he’s going pro after graduation and she can’t cash in on his sizable contract to fund her own ventures and make a future for herself.

She just knows she’s angry, why would anyone break up with her?

Natasha has been the perfect girlfriend, let alone the perfect girlfriend for a student athlete. Food prepping, massages, early bedtimes and long game days that started at the ass-crack of dawn. She did it all while balancing her own coursework and commitments.

She did everything he wanted and it still wasn’t enough.

“Anyway,” Steve’s voice cuts through her inner monologue, “I got practice, maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Sure, Steve,” she does her best impression of a smile and he gives her a big, genuine one.

Asshole.

“I knew you’d understand,” he turns on his heel and she watches as a girl flanks him, arm wrapping around his waist.

“Fucking hell,” Natasha mutters, she heads over to the coffee shop on campus, thinking the worst part of her day is behind her.

“Hey Nat.”

Shit.

“Hey Sharon,” Natasha turns away from the counter, coffee will have to wait.

“So Tony hasn’t done shit on the paper or the presentation.”

“Big surprise there,” Natasha crosses her arms and Sharon lets out a huge sigh, Natasha braces for incoming bullshit-

“Do you have time to meet tonight so we can wrap up this project without him?”

“You mean do his work for him?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Aren’t you friends with his girlfriend? Tell her he’s dragging ass.”

“Pepper hardly has control over what he does, plus she’s out of town so he’s without a handler.”

“Shit, fuck!” Natasha’s fingers furiously card through her hair, “fine, I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best, I owe you one,” Sharon’s shoulders relax a bit, she re-adjusts her bag and makes up an excuse about having a study group to leave Natasha alone.

Natasha grabs the drink on the counter and only gets two steps away from her spot when someone is already talking to her again.

“Excuse me.”

“What?” Natasha bites, your hands shoot up a bit in front of you, like you’re approaching a caged, feral animal.

“That’s mine,” you say, pointing to her drink, “here, Natasha, right?” you hand her the drink that was in your hand. She takes a moment to look at the cup in her own hand, her name isn’t on it, the cup you’re holding out in fact does, oops.

“Y/N?” she mumbles, gingerly handing over the cup.

“You don’t look like much of a tea drinker anyway,” you shake her cup in your hand a bit, she finally takes it with a less than gentle swipe of her hand.

“Thanks, sorry-” she doesn’t stick around for a second longer. You’re thoroughly amused as you watch Natasha trudge through a small horde of students, you’ve never seen a more prime example of someone having a rough day.

You take a sip of your tea before heading to class.

________________

Nat: He dumped me.

Hill: Aw, wanna talk about it?

Nat: No.

Hill: I’ll be there in 20?

Nat: See you then.

Natasha tosses her phone onto her bed with a sigh. Intimacy is last on her list of things she wants right now, but it will be nice to shut her brain off for a bit.

________________

“This was fun,” Maria purrs, pressing her lips to Natasha’s temple.

“You have to go, don’t you?” It was nice while it lasted, at least.

“Study group,” Maria flashes a guilty smile and slips out from under the sheets. Natasha barely watches her, fiddling with the sheets between her fingers while Maria gets dressed.

“I’ll see you later?” Natasha asks, she knows the answer already.

“Ah, actually I’m visiting my folks this weekend,” Maria grabs her backpack and heads for the door.

“I’ll text you when I’m back in town, later!” she skips out the door and Natasha just lays there for a while until she picks herself up to go to the next thing on her schedule.

________________

Natasha is halfway through doing damage control with Sharon when she gets a call from her sorority house.

“Yelena’s trashed, come be a big sister.”

“Can’t you just lay her down somewhere? I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Not a chance, and if she pukes anywhere but the toilet then you both are paying for it,” she lets out a groan as soon as the call ends.

“I’ll be right back,” Natasha starts to get up.

“Can I just send you what’s left? I have to head out soon too.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha tenses, of course she’ll have to finish this project on her own. She leaves the study room and only gets a few yards before she sees Steve talking to a table full of girls, his perfect smile glints under the dim library lights and it makes Natasha’s stomach do a barrel roll.

Natasha quickly ducts into another study room and stays against the door for about a minute, exhaling one shaky breath after the other.

“Coffee girl,” she turns to see you sitting at a desk with your head buried behind a laptop.

“Sorry-”

“No worries, I was just about to pack up,” you get up and follow Natasha’s line of sight.

“Steve Rodgers, what a babe magnet,” Natasha smiles just a bit at your sarcastic-lite tone.

“Until he opens his mouth,” Natasha mutters against the glass of the door, “terrible in bed too.”

“Oof,” you breathe out, “you just break up?”

“Only,” Natasha checks her phone, “12-ish hours ago.”

“Wow,” you stand there and watch him flirt with the table of girls, “he’s an idiot.”

That makes Natasha take her eyes off of the scene behind the door, a bigger smile on her face now.

Steve finally leaves and she takes that as her cue to leave.

“Gotta go, thanks for letting me camp out here.”

“Anytime,” you smile softly, watching her go.

________________

Natasha hunches over her laptop while Yelena snores loudly on her bed, at least she hasn’t puked yet.

She thinks about how Steve is the scum of the Earth for ruining her plans more so than hurting her feelings.

Then she thinks about you. It’s a small enough campus that it’s not uncommon to see the same person a few times a day in different places.

She just wonders why she hasn’t seen you sooner.

Deadlines, classes, meetings, and extra-curriculars pulling her in so many different directions--it’s no surprise why she wouldn’t notice you anyway.

Until she did.

Now you’re sticking in her brain like the day after a cram session.

You were a break in her day, moments where she didn’t feel the need to make herself useful, she just had to exist around you and it was enough, for you and for her.

With a jaw finally unclenched with a significant slack in her shoulders, she submits the project and goes to bed, dreaming about you.

____________

Natasha finds you by the cafe.

You’re in line when she walks up to you with a determination in her eyes and a sway in her hips that makes you flinch inwardly but you swallow your nerves.

“Hey.”

“You again.”

“Me again,” that gets you a half smile.

“Here to steal my tea?”

Natasha playfully scoffs, “actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to go somewhere else…for tea, or whiskey or…whatever. On me?”

“Oh, uh,” you exasperatedly suck in your teeth and she watches your eyes dart around for a few beats, her shoulders sink just a bit, maybe this was a-

“Absolutely, definitely, yes,” you grin, Natasha tilts her head in disbelief.

“You did that on purpose,” she points a perfectly manicured but accusatory finger at you. You don’t answer, instead your grin just grows wider.

“You dick, come on, before I change my mind.”

“You wouldn’t,” you feign offense, falling in step with her. She turns to look at you and the sight makes her lungs swell with a second wind and her bones settle into something new but comfortable—peace.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

[flowertot-s]

hi hi hello!! I love your art style, derek and edie look amazing!! please tell me everything about edie!! when did she start liking derek? how did she feel about the marriage pact? what’s her relationship with cove like? what did she do after high school? and any fun facts you wanna share!! :)

a total of One (1) person has asked abt my girl Edie so this means im allowed to go insane crazy. thats the rules soz babes

more info under the cut !

this is gonna start at step 2 bc thats where it’s more Interesting

during step 2, edie is an INCREDIBLY anxious girl; she got into an accident when she was 10 and became disabled, so she has to walk with crutches or a leg brace which makes her feel very insecure, mostly bc she would rather die than stand out at ALL

bc edie is so insecure she really latches on to basically anyone who gives her any form of attention, so when derek starts looking out for her n making sure she’s included in things, she IMMEDIATELY starts crushing on him. it’s different w cove, bc at first she had a crush on him too but realised it was more of an infatuation, mainly bc he was just someone new and interesting. cove has no idea about this, and she’ll take that secret with her to her grave. she almost hopes that by pushing her emotions down and ignoring them they’ll go away on their own - which obvs, they don’t. because of this insecurity, she finds herself really upset by derek’s marriage pact and denies it outright, mainly because at this point she doesn’t WANT to feel like she’s just an option for him when she’s spent so long being basically as in love as a 13 year old can be. 

after she turns 18 during step 3, she’s absolutely MISERABLE. she has no idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life and feels very pressured to follow Liz’s success. she’s drifted away from cove a little bit, but still considers him her friend; however, she does still stay in touch with derek, and he's basically her lifeline at this point bc he magically seems to understand what she’s going through. She does a bunch of crazy shit to her appearance, like getting tons of piercings, getting tattoos, and dyeing her hair, because if everything in her life is out of her control, she can at least control how other people perceive her. she did really well in school, but during her high school years it took more and more effort to keep her grades from slipping. 

between steps 3 and 4, she’s resolved to move to an entirely different country to start her whole life over from scratch. she studied law and criminology in England, rents her own place, gets in a few long term relationships, and nearly completely cuts contact with everyone she knew in Sunset Bird. while it worked for a while, she found herself feeling incredibly homesick and miserable. she hated to admit it, but she was lonely. once she graduated, she had no idea what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. she started a career as a clerk at a law office, hated it, and floated between a lot of different jobs while juggling a toxic relationship, loneliness, and post-grad study all at the same time. she decided that enough was enough, and reached out to derek for support; this is FINALLY where things start looking up for our girl. 

step 4 happens, she visits derek, and all of her feelings come rushing back all at once and it takes ALL of her effort to not immediately confess her love for him when she first sees him (because she’d just gotten out of her last relationship and didn’t want to rush into anything). but to hell with that, as soon as derek offers to have her live with him, she immediately accepts and they get into a relationship. she feels like she’s spent too much of her life taking things slowly because of her own insecurities, and she’s not gonna let them stand in the way of her happiness anymore. she and derek would get married pretty quickly, and edie really starts coming out of her shell towards the beginning of step 4. 

some other fun facts:

her favourite flavour of ice cream is mint chip

her star sign is scorpio

her love languages are acts of service and physical touch

her favourite movie series is lord of the rings

her mbti is ENTJ

she does eventually go on to repair her relationship with liz, though it takes some time

she and cove become closer friends again once she moves back to sunset bird

she sees mr suarez as her father figure

she got a hello kitty tramp stamp when she was drunk once and it’s still her favourite tattoo

she’s a GREAT storyteller

she’s dyed her hair every colour under the sun (her ends feel like STRAW at this point)

she’s a Pro GamerTM

I think career-wise she’d become an academic, as well as a college professor perhaps

thank u for reading this far ily

[roxxy-16]

Intervention pt5

As it shall be.

“Eds we need to talk about something”.

Of course this time he was expecting it. His hand reached over and squeezed her thigh gently. Here we go.

“Ok baby.” He could see the lay-by just ahead and slowed down to pull over and park. Turning off the engine, he sat and waited, listening to the wind outside as he braced himself for what he knew was about to go down. He turned to face her, taking in her slight tremble, her emotions starting to creep up on her.

“It’s my Dad….” her eyes looking down, not looking at him. Small sniffles.Nervous hands, grabbing at the long sleeves of his well worn leather.

He pulled her to him, her face to his chest, and felt her let go. Her tears slow at first, then releasing fully as she accepted his comfort.

He allowed her to let it all out, not saying anything, just holding her as she got it out of her system. He only moved back slightly when her sobs had finally turned to small sniffles, and she lifted her still sweet, but now blotchy face to his. “ Sorry Eddie. You’re soaked. I didn’t…”

“ Hey, it’s ok Princess. It’s fine. It’s all fine. Ok?” He still held her to him, stroking her hair softly, and she nodded.

“He thinks we should break up. I told him I didn’t want that, that I want to be with you. I always wanna be with you Eds. You’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever known. You’re nothing like I imagined before we talked.”

Eddie couldn’t help but grin at that. She’d admitted to him before that she’d been scared of him prior to their first conversation, before he’d turned his smile towards her and she’d finally realised that he was actually a goddamn teddy bear. “ Why does he want that?”

She shook her head, tears threatening again at the corners of her emerald eyes. “ He said that he’s heard you’re bad news. That you’re selling drugs and failing school.He said it’ll all fall apart when we graduate anyway. I told him that you’re doing better now, that I’ve been helping you study, but that made him even madder. Ed’s he’s all the family I’ve got. And now we’re arguing. I don’t know what to do.”

They sat in silence for a while. Holding each other close. The only noise was the wind and their breathing.

Eddie knew what to do. Knew what he had to do. Eddie had to do it all over again. His head dropped to the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop the scream bubbling in his chest, leaned over her to lock her door, preventing any chance of her getting out and started the argument.

He dropped her outside her house, still screaming and cursing at him in her bewilderment at his 180 attitude change. He pulled away fast, watching her grow smaller in the rear view mirror, until she was gone altogether.

Benny’s Diner.

“ That was hard.’’

He finished his blink, nodded, swallowing thickly. Yeah no shit, he thought looking up from the worn Formica table back at the radiantly beautiful girl across from him.

“ You did the right thing Edward. It was the right thing at that time for Gia, although she doesn’t realise it yet and ultimately for yourself.”

“ Yeah, yeah. I just wanna forget about this whole damn thing ok? I think I’ve lived through it enough now. Can I get back to dying, or living, or whatever the fuck is going on now please?”

The Angel reached out and softly stroked his hair. “ Eddie, the future is your own. That is not yet written. I believe that 1987 may also be a golden year for you Eds.” She winked at him and moved out of her seat, leaning over him, she whispered in his ear “ She went to Hanover. She misses you still. So, so much. There will be no more do-overs Eddie. Good luck.” She kissed him softly on his cheek.

He woke up in hell. Searing agony burned through his body, and he couldn’t hold a thought for more than a millisecond at first. Eventually his senses started to return and he heard Henderson sniffling and weeping next to him. Feeling started to return, more slowly until he believed that maybe he could move his fingers. He did so, catching Dustin’s attention.

“ Holy…. HOLY SHIT. STEVE! STEVE!!! He moved.” His young friend was screaming next to him, making him internally wince.

“Yeah I don’t think so bud….” He heard Harrington reply.. shit his brain urged him on.Move something else, before they gave up on him. He concentrated on his hand again, this time managing to move the whole thing slightly.

“ DID YOU SEE THAT? NANCY DID YOU SEE THAT!?”

“ Yes! I saw it!! STEVE..HE’S ALIVE.”

Eddie didnt remember any more of that conversation, or any of the aftermath, waking up a two nights later in a hospital bed, hearing Waynes soft breathy snores from the chair next to him. He felt the enormous pain in his torso, and legs. And started to laugh.

[wasabito]

"It’s Raining Milk!” Collab — Hosted by my darling @karasunosimp 💞 Check out the masterlist for more delicious goodies! minors DNI please!

WORD(S): 1.1k

PAIRING: Suguru Geto x milf!Reader

CW/TAGS: Alt. Universe (no curses), Public sex, Titty fucking, Age gap, Oral (male recieving), Slight femdom, Nipple play, Infidelity

You look so tasty, but I won't bite. Really, I'm such a good kitty, don't put up fights

Sweltering summer heat, flirty rich cougars, hour long beach volleyball, and copious amounts of sunscreen have been the crux of Suguru Geto's summers since turning eighteen.

Working as a cabana boy for a resort off the coast wasn't exactly what he saw himself doing post-graduation. Sure, he'd always wanted to live somewhere warm under sunny skies but had anyone told him a year ago, he'd spend his days cleaning jacuzzis and serving rum punch at all hours of the day and night, he certainly wouldn't have believed it. But even so, there was no denying said job--that occasionally required he wax his ass every few weeks and keep in decent shape--came with some perks here and there.

Case in point, when Geto quite literally bumps into you at the bar one afternoon, drowning yourself in bottomless mimosas, he knew for sure he was in for an interesting week.

You were witty, sexy, intelligent, experienced, a total catch to say the least. It was rather unfortunate your workaholic spouse couldn't appreciate what he was on the cusp of losing. He'd shipped you off to an island far from Tokyo with your twin boys, while he remained in the city catering to business affairs, according to your inebriated complaints.

And while your children enjoyed all the little activities the beach resort had to offer, you spent the first few days of your trip either asleep in your hotel room, running up your husband's credit cards at the spa or laid out, topless, on the warm, white-sand beaches.

Despite being on vacation, you seemed miserable. That is until you met him.

"Suguru!" You wave him over with a smile, your empty champagne glass raised for a refill which he is happy to take care of.

It takes him but a second to top off your glass with the bubbling liquid, careful not spill any, and more than enough time for you to find something else for him to do--if only to get him to spend a bit more time with you here in your cabana before he'd be called back to his station.

"Is there any thing you would like me to do in particular?" He asks, ever the charming gentleman.

You reach for the bottle of sunscreen. "Lend me a hand?" The sheer cover up you’re wearing is cast aside next as you roll over on your stomach.

Geto feels a lump form in his throat, the heat in his cheeks burning heavy as he takes in the sight of your soft, supple skin. He chews his bottom lip, unsure. The swimsuit you have on leaves little to imagination. With a single tug, you untie the string behind your back and let your bikini top slide right off your body.

You're utterly stunning, and you know as much. His reaction is nothing but natural. It takes Suguru more than a moment to gather his wits and settle close to you, close enough for him to warm up the cold sunscreen between his hands and press into your skin.

"Like this?" whispers Suguru.

You smile, though he can’t see it. "Yup, just like that."

Geto's large hands slide up and down your back, kneading in a way that's enough to put you straight to sleep. When his hand slides down the bend of your waist, it feels like butterflies have been set free in your stomach.

"Take your time," you moan lightly. "No need to rush."

But your words fall on partially deaf ears.

Your body is mesmerizing and he can't help the reaction it draws from him, proven by the tent in his swim trunks. His hands move to your ass, massaging it tenderly. And you have a hard time believing he hasn’t done something like this before.

"Busy later?" You find yourself asking him.

Suguru hums in thought. "I'm afraid I don't get off until evening."

There aren't rules against fraternizing with guests, so long as the guest is asking for your time. But he can't very well shirk his duties to spend time with you.

You place a hand on his bicep, smooth fingers ghosting along the veins on his bare arm. "That's perfect actually, I wanna spend time with you, Suguru, what do you say?"

Of course he agrees in the moment, but Suguru soon discovers that you are trouble for him in the best and worst way possible.

He realizes this when you corner him on his way to the laundry chute. The pile of wet beach towels long forgotten the second you sink to your knees with his cock in your hand. He wants to ask about dinner plans but it seems you have other things in mind.

You make a game of testing just how much of him you could take in your mouth.

Hollow cheek and choked moans, you look up at him with soft, red-rimmed eyes, and let him fuck your throat with nothing more than a sultry smile and smeared lipstick stains left behind. And when he comes, you don’t stop sucking him till he's gone lightheaded and utterly boneless.

Persuasive. That's what you are, though it really doesn’t take much convincing if he were truthful.

That's how he ends up in your bed later that night.

He's so far gone. Gone beyond any form of morality or reason. With your tits rubbing against his cock, there really isn't anything else on his mind but sweet, sweet release. And he's so close, yet so far away, he can taste it.

"You like fucking my tits, Suguru, hmm? Be a good boy and tell me how much you enjoy it?"

"F-Fuck--I--" He flushes red, sweat licking at his nape. His hair tossed in bun haphazardly at the start is now falling apart, with tendrils framing his face and sticking to his skin. He looks so divine, like an angel cast from grace, taken apart with every snap of his hips.

With the way his mouth has fallen open, finally allowing himself to sing your praises, you could tell he was close to coming. You decid to give him a little push. Reaching under him, you give his balls a gentle squeeze, making him choke on his own breath.

"Shit, fuck, fuck." He jerks once, then twice, before coating your chest in with his warm cum.

"I hope you're not tired yet, my love." You rise to your feet, tits bouncy as you move to push him back against the mattress. "The night is still young, and I am far from satisfied."

Without sparing another second, you clamber onto his lap and sink down his him. Suguru feels like he’s lip-locked with death. You kiss him slowly in contrast with how you ride him. And squeeze down around his dick, hands braced against his bare chest, and his own jizz dripping onto his stomach. Every roll of your hips has him seeing stars, ruining him as your cunt spasms again.

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[logically-asexual]

Where's my fucking teenage dream?

summary:

Last part of this series, two years after the events of the previous part. Logan just finished high school while Janus, Remus and Virgil have been renting a house together since they graduated. Logan decides to move in with them, but adjusting isn't so easy. Logan is ace but does feel romantic attraction (for Virgil). He doesn't know he's ace, though, so the story involves some self-questioning.

Read on AO3

Chapter 8

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words: 1137

warnings: kind of non consensual drug use, just second-hand smoke.

Logan had only lived here a few months and there were some constants he was getting used to. Either way, he kept learning new things about the young adults around him every day. That night, for example, he learned that Janus smoked weed. Not regularly and not in front of others, because “he didn’t like to share”. He claimed to need relaxation after having so many strangers over. 

Logan finished cleaning up soon after everyone had left. Janus was sitting on a chair in the living room with his legs stretched to rest his feet on the coffee table.

“You missed a spot,” he told Logan, pointing toward a shelf next to the TV, where guests had left more trash, apparently. 

Logan walked there taking the long way to pass behind Janus, avoiding the smoke, and cleaned where he was told.

Virgil and Remus walked back inside after saying goodbye to the last guests leaving. 

“You should wear that every time you tidy up around here, it suits you well,” Remus said, “but with more meowing next time.”

Logan finished throwing everything in a trash bag, ignoring the other’s comments.

Janus noticed Logan was taking the same route behind him to return to the kitchen, struggling to pass between the drum set and the couch.  

“What, you don’t like the smell?” 

“I don’t.”

“Aw it’s because you’re not used to it yet. Come here.”

He left the trash bag and went to stand next to where Janus sat. He coaxed Logan onto the arm of the chair, held the back of his head firmly, and pulled him in, blowing the smoke directly into Logan’s mouth. 

Logan pulled away struggling not to make a fool of himself by coughing like an old man, but he couldn’t stifle it. Virgil wrinkled his eyebrows and Logan was convinced it was in disappointment. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Virgil said. 

Logan was trying to recover his breath and apologize, but Janus spoke first. 

“Because he lets me.” 

He realized then that the question wasn’t directed at him. 

“You wanna see other stuff he’ll let us do?” Logan heard Remus ask and braced himself. 

“No,” Virgil said with no uncertainty. “Logan, come, let’s get you to bed.”

The other two whistled and made teasing exclamations as Logan stood up to follow Virgil upstairs. Virgil didn’t even turn around to glare at them, focusing on the shorter guy beside him. 

When they made it to his bedroom door, Virgil stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You shouldn’t do things you don’t want to do just because they told you to.”

“But I want to do them.”

“Do you, really?”

“Yes. It’s important to them.”

“It’s not important to them at all, Logan! They’re doing it for amusement, whatever their idea of fun is. You can just tell them ‘No’, you know?”

Logan looked like he was processing an entire college lecture in a minute. He didn’t understand. “Janus said it was part of the agreement.”

“What? No. They’re not serious. They’re toying with you because that’s how they are, you should know that by now. And if you don’t tell them when to stop they simply won’t.”

Logan hated feeling so patronized. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t weak. 

“I don’t care.” Logan pushed Virgil’s hand away from his shoulder. “Besides, what would you know? You’re always in your room, you barely talk to us. This doesn’t concern you.”

Logan remembered the ears on his head and took off the headband, now also aware of the makeup that was still on his face. He felt ridiculous, like a child being told off by his parents again. He didn’t come here for this. 

“I can defend myself,” he insisted when Virgil didn’t reply. 

“I’m sure you can, I’ve seen you.” his voice turned from stern to soft all of a sudden. “That’s why I’m asking you to actually do it now.”

Now Logan was the one left at a loss for words. 

“I know they’re our friends and they’re fun to be around, but you have to have boundaries, dude.” 

What did he know about boundaries, Logan thought to himself, when he let that jerk walk over him for months? He bit his lip instead of speaking. For all Logan knew they could be dating again. 

No. They weren’t. Virgil was different now, it was visible. He wouldn’t have stayed downstairs the entire night if the guy was still in the picture, either seeking alone time with him or locking himself up because of a fight. He wouldn’t be paying this much attention to his housemates, to Logan. 

“I’m sorry for pestering you,” Virgil finally said, “just… go to sleep. And don't forget to wash the makeup off before you do.”

Logan silently nodded and watched Virgil walk back to the stairs before doing as he was advised. 

Back downstairs, Virgil slumped down on the couch, opposite to Janus, now with Remus on his lap, who was entertaining himself with fake blood and organs forgotten from someone’s costume. 

“You should loosen up,” Janus said, focused on the smoke he was blowing out. “Or even try it yourself, Logan’s lovely when he’s in an obedient mood.”

“He thinks you’re going to kick him out otherwise.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t.”

“Don’t let his dorky appearance fool you,” Remus said, “he doesn’t really believe that.”

“Why do you think he does it, then?”

“He’s trying to appear more confident,” Janus crossed one foot over the other, “to impress you.” When Virgil stayed quiet, Janus looked him in the eyes. “You do know he likes you, right?” 

Virgil furrowed his brows at him, tilting his head to the side. “No, he doesn’t.”

Janus leaned his head all the way back on the backrest of the chair. He was not having this conversation twice in the same night. “Fine. He doesn’t,” he deadpanned. 

The next minutes were spent in silence, as Virgil leaned forward, lost in thought. How could Logan think that this was a good way to impress anyone?

“So he thinks you two are cool and does whatever you say because that will make him appear cool as well?”

“Probably.” Janus shrugged.

“And you let him believe that because…”

“It’s funny!” Remus smiled, before licking the fake blood he had in his hands off his fingers. 

Virgil sat back, exhausted. “You’re not even my type.” 

“Well, I know that,” Janus repeated the emo’s words with a smile, “but he doesn’t.”

“Whatever,” Virgil sighed. Then, he stood up and made his way to the stairs. “Just kick it down a notch.”

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” Janus sang behind him. 

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[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it