#idk I’m bored and thought this would be a fun one

[penitenteyeball]

Dum de dum dum

Gonna add max tags and max characters to each cause who cares

[wundrousarts]

Yesterday I watched Cartoon Saloon’s short “Screecher’s Reach”, and thought Daal’s hair was almost exactly like how I envision Mathilde Lachance’s hair, so I decided to try and draw her. Today I stopped cleaning up the sketch after about an hour because I got bored, so it’s going here.

[gregmarriage]

incoherent post, as always <3

will always be funny that i made a post about literally unaliving myself, and it flopped 😂

[spider-stark]

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.” 

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

[m0llygunn]

The Blackout (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

Summary: A state wide power outage during the hottest days of the year leave you and eddie getting on each others nerves with only one way to work it out...

Warnings: 18+! smut, mature language, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f receiving), p in v sex (no protection), creampie, sweaty sex, porn with plot, both eddie and reader are kind of mean to each other, no y/n. Author’s note: its summer and way too hot out so i wrote this idk wc: 3.3k

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Its so fucking hot.” He groans.

“Eddie, if I can’t say I’m bored you can’t say you’re hot.” 

I didn’t say I was hot, I said it was hot.” Eddie snaps, heat driving him to agitation.

“Go for a fucking walk then, I don’t know what to tell you.” You snap back.

The power’s been out for three days, with the outage reaching across most of the state. 

Three whole fucking days during a record breakingly hot summer. 

With the power being out, that means no A/C, no TV, no phone, no radio, no nothing. They’re calling it ‘The Blackout’ by what you gathered from neighbours. It is truly a moment of history that you’re sharing with Eddie, and it’s been fucking miserable. 

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie groans, standing from the opposite end of the couch. “It’s just as fucking hot out there, why would you even think a walk would be a good idea?” 

“Stop being pissy.” You warn. 

He shoots you a glare before pulling his shirt off over his head. Why he even bothered putting a shirt on after his shower, escapes you. The only thing that has kept you both from completely withering away in the stifling, suffocating heat has been taking showers. The only downside of it is that the water heater obviously uses electricity so the water is uncomfortably cold. 

You watch as he crosses to the kitchen.

“Do you think the milk would still be good?” He asks, hand on the fridge door, looking in your direction.

“Why would I know?” You reply snarkily, still mad over him snapping at you. 

“Holy shit, it was just a question.” He groans. “Fuck— and you think I’m being pissy.” He mumbles under his breath as he quickly opens the fridge, grabbing the milk and shutting it just as fast to try and preserve some of the cold air inside. 

“I heard that.” You yell back.

“You were supposed to.” He retorts. You watch him as he sniffs the milk, nose scrunching in response.

“It’s bad?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, he just starts dumping it down the sink, slamming the empty carton down onto the counter.

It’s been so hot you both haven’t had the energy to do anything besides argue. The first day you both thought it was semi-interesting seeing everything out of power and watching people gathering outside to excitedly chatter about it, but as the remaining cold air from the air conditioner turned hot, it wasn’t fun anymore. Then the bickering started. 

You continue watching him as he opens the fridge again, this time grabbing a beer, and quickly closing the fridge like last time. 

He cracks the can and you can tell from the scowl on his face as he takes a sip that it’s warm. 

“It’s warm?” You ask, purely just to annoy him. You have to admit, his pissy mood is helping with your boredom, he’s serving as quite the entertainment. 

You watch as he slams the can down on the counter.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?” He asks, brows pinched, eyes narrowed in on you.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?” You mock, pitching your voice up into a nasally tone. 

“Fucking stop it.” He scolds, brows pinching even more harshly. 

“Fucking stop it.” You mock quietly, turning in your seat on the couch to face away from Eddie.

You hear what sounds like him gulping the beer before heavy stomps heading straight for you.

“You’re pissing me off on purpose?” He asks. 

Out of your periphery you can see him standing beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You are.”

The corners of your lips tug up and as much as you try to stop it, you can’t.

“Do you think this is funny?” Eddie asks bewilderedly, not even the slightest bit amused by you. 

“I don’t think anything about this is funny, Eddie.” You reply, your smile maturing into a smirk.

Eddie huffs, moving to sit back down beside you on the couch, making sure to sit as far away from you as possible. He exhales a deep sigh and you can tell he’s pissed by the way his jaw repeatedly clenches. 

You slowly shift so your feet are up on the couch. Eddie's eyes are set forward, ignoring you on purpose.

Inch by inch you stretch your legs out until your toes are poking him in the side. He doesn’t react so you wiggle your toes, digging them in harder. 

Without even sparing you a look, he grabs both of your feet pulling them on his lap, holding them tightly so they can’t move. 

“Eddie, let go.” You whine as you try to escape the grips he has around your ankles. He ignores you.

You have two choices. You could lay here quietly or you could make things exponentially worse. 

Exponentially worse sounds more entertaining.

You huff a breath and notice the way Eddie’s jaw clenches right after. You sigh, and he does it again. 

You breathe comically loud and you swear you see his eye twitch.

One more sigh and you’re sure he’ll break his little silent treatment, so you let out a soft breathy sigh.

Nothing. Not even a jaw clench this time. You’re positive he’s just trying his best to ignore you now but you know two little words that have driven him up the wall for the last three days. 

“Eddie, I’m bored.” You whine, and sure enough he breaks. His head turns in your direction, eyes burning into you. 

You think he’s gonna say something but instead he pulls you by the feet, grabbing your arm so you’re practically sitting in his lap.

“You’re bored?” He coos, taunting you. He pulls at your limbs, getting you to straddle his hips, your hands landing on his bare chest. 

“Don’t.” You warn, despite your increased heart rate at getting the exact response you were looking for. 

“Aw but my baby’s bored, doesn’t she just want a little attention?” He continues his taunting, looking at you with a faux concern. 

“You’re all sweaty.” You say, feeling his sticky skin under your fingertips.

“Baby, it’s cause you got me all worked up now. Pissing me off on purpose just for a quick laugh, right?” He says, pulling you closer to him with his hands on your hips. “What wrong, sweetheart? Where’s that smile from earlier? Seems to have disappeared now that you got what you wanted.” He teases.

“Wasn’t trying to piss you off.” You huff. 

“Baby, you got what you wanted didn’t you? No use in lying.” He proceeds with his taunt. 

“M’not lying.” You whisper, watching your fingers as you skate them down his sweat slicked chest. When he sternly says your name you look up at him.

“Baby, there’s no way you just said all that stuff without purposefully saying it to annoy me.” He says, cutting out all the coos, teasing, and taunting.

“Oh, so you think I’m annoying?” You say, raising your brows at him. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. 

You watch him as his brows pinch and his eyes squeeze shut to try and calm himself. You're about to speak again to scold him, but his hips shift below yours, his hard length pressed between your thighs.  

“Oh my god.” You gasp. “You’re hard?” 

His eyes shoot open, glaring at you for pointing it out so flagrantly. You didn’t think he was getting this worked up. Truthfully you were just doing this for a quick laugh, not a quick fuck. 

“What did you think I was doing?” He asks, hands squeezing your hips, eyes still burning into you. Evidently you both were on separate pages but feeling his length still pressing into you, you're quickly switching over to the same wavelength as Eddie, but not without a little more entertainment. 

“Accusing me of being annoying and a liar.” You shrill, tilting your head at him. 

“Oh my god, you need to stop talking.” He says, hands pulling you by the cheeks towards his face. He presses his lips to yours and only then you process what he just said.

“Don’t tell me to stop talking.” You say, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Shhh.” He hushes, pulling you back in, his lips pressing back to yours

“Don’t tell me to shush.” You say, pulling back once more. 

Eddie groans, head falling forward to rest against your chest.

After a few deep breaths he pulls away. When he looks at you again, you can tell he’s still annoyed but he’s trying to relax his features.

“Do you want to fuck or not?” He asks, purposefully softening his voice. 

“Ever the romantic.” You scoff.

“Baby.” He says, starting to reduce to a whine.

You find both amusement and pity in him, opting to grind your hips against his. His hands fall to your sides again, guiding you against him. 

“So is that a yes?” He asks, mouth falling open as you pass over his length. 

“You told me to stop talking.” You reply, smile tugging on your lips. You spread your thighs further, dropping your weight onto his crotch and he gasps, chasing it with a deep exhale.

“Talk, don’t talk, I don’t care, just keep doing that.” He grunts, lifting his hips enough to meet yours. 

“Don’t be fucking rude.” You say, lifting your hips from his. When you watch his face, his annoyance falls into desperation and defeat as he attempts to chase after you with his hips before deflating into the couch with a ‘humph’.

"Fuck, please, baby.” He groans, pinching your skin between his fingers with his harsh grip on your thighs. 

“Say you’re sorry.” You demand, hips still lifted from him. 

“I’m sorry baby, let me show you how sorry I am.” He whines, bringing his face to sit against your chest, pressing kisses into your skin wherever he can reach. 

“Fine.” You reply, smiling to yourself as you place both palms flat on his chest to guide yourself as you resume your grinding. 

He lets you continue the glide of your hips against him for a moment before his hands rise to your waist, lifting you up and peeling himself from the couch. 

He flips you, sitting you back against the couch while sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you. 

“C’mon baby, let’s get these off.” He says lowly, fingers tangling in the lace of your panties under your oversized shirt. You lift your hips and he quickly pulls them off, throwing them beside him. 

He grabs your hips again, pulling you to the edge of the couch, immediately connecting his mouth to your cunt. 

You whimper as his tongue licks up your slit, swirling around your clit. He’s quick to introduce his fingers, plunging two inside of you, bringing them in and out at a pace he knows you like. 

“Look at you, all quiet and happy now.” Eddie laughs. You look down at him between your legs and his eyes are focused on you, pupils blown wide and sparkling in amusement as his skin glistens in a sheer sweat. 

You don’t respond to him, you just watch with a slack jaw as his mouth works against you, fingers massaging that sweet spot inside, drawing all sorts of whimpers and moans from your lungs. 

Your pleasure keeps building and building, tension becoming a hot blur inside of you until Eddie’s mouth stops completely. A whined cry escapes your lips as the crescendo of your high is pulled from you. 

“How do you have me showing you that I’m sorry? You’re the one who was purposefully pissing me off.” Eddie questions, brows furrowed. It’s not a sly tease or a playful trick of the moment, it’s a genuine realization that’s just come to him. 

“Eddie.” You whine. 

“No, seriously. You’re the one who started this, why am I sorry?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan. 

“No.” He retorts, brows pinched. You sink your weight into the couch, exhaling through your nose before looking back at Eddie. 

“Eddie, I was so close to coming.” You whine, bringing your hands to his face to push his sweaty bangs back, trying to will him to continue.

“Say sorry then.” He says firmly, ignoring your hands on his face.

“Eddie.” You whine again. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly and you sigh harshly bring your arms to your chest, folding them in a pout. “Do you want me to give you a blow job, is that what this is about?” He blinks at you slowly before opening his mouth. 

“I want you to say sorry.” He pushes, refusing to be distracted by your offer. 

“Sorry.” You mumble, annoyed that he’s really making you apologize mid fuck. 

“What was that, couldn’t quite hear you.” He says, smile ghosting over his lips as he turns his ear to you, cupping it with his hand.

“I said sorry.” You snap. His smile turns into a dimpled grin as his eyes bleed pure amusement. 

“Get down here.” He laughs, pulling you down the couch further, wrapping his arms around your back and maneuvering you to the floor.

“Eddie!” You shriek as your body hits the floor, his hands guiding you downwards. You’re greeted with a coolness against your back that feels refreshing against your boiling hot skin. 

“It’s cooler down here.” He says, lowering his face to kiss at your shirt clad chest before his hands grab at the hem. You sit up enough for him to raise the shirt over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you bare on the floor in front of him. 

He sits up, unbuckling his pants, tugging them down.

“Gonna fuck you right here on the floor, baby.” He mumbles, fumbling distractedly with his pants that stick to his sweaty skin. It takes him a while, but when they're finally off, boxers removed with them, he wastes no time running his fist up and down his length before bringing it to your core. 

“Ready, baby?” 

“I was ready about 5 minutes ago before you started fighting with your pant—” You sneer before Eddie pushes into you, interrupting your snarky comment by punching all the air from your lungs. 

“Baby, you really gotta quit that attitude, it’s too fucking hot in here for that.” He grunts, punctuating every other word with thrusts into you.

The stretch of him filling you up and the force behind each jut of his hips leaves your head spinning. 

“Eddie.” You moan, feeling your lost pleasure resurface quickly, tension already building in your lower belly.

Your heavy breathing gets buried under the echoes of sticky skin slapping together with each of Eddie's pistoling movements. His plunging thrusts working his cock deep inside of you, the adrenaline of your non-stop arguing working as fuel for him fervently fucking you. 

Reaching your arms up to him, you bring your hands to his back, grasping for purchase against his sweaty skin, resorting to using your nails to keep you tethered to him as he fucks you into the carpeted floor. 

“You like that, baby? Just wanted me to fuck you, huh? Getting me all pissed off so I can give it to you nice and hard.” He grunts, one of his hands releasing the tight squeeze on your thighs to graze over your chest, the heat of his hand searing your skin, leaving you tingling under the trail of his touch.

“Mhmm” You moan, agreeing mindlessly, lost in pleasure. You look up at Eddie, his brows furrowed in pleasure, mouth dropped agape, hair stuck to his face and you feel a burst of adoration for him. 

“Eddie.” You whine, using your grip on him to pull him down. “Kiss.” You add, and he lowers to you immediately. His lips meet yours, both of you working your lips together in a salty kiss tainted by the mixing sweat of your upper lips. He continues thrusting into you, the new position as he licks into your mouth offering an added friction to your clit with each plunge making you gasp and moan into his mouth. 

“Fuck.” He groans. “Feels so good, baby.” His kisses stop but he doesn’t let his lips leave you entirely, breathing his words into your mouth. 

The sweltering hot knot in your belly grows impossibly tight, each thrust of his hips reaching deeper inside of you while his hot breath funnels directly into your mouth leaving you absolutely dizzy.

“G-gonna cum, Eddie.” You stutter, lower belly tensing so harshly your breathing only comes in harsh pants.

“Cum for me, baby. Need to feel you cum.” He groans.

You let go, body vibrating, and in the heat of the house it feels like everything inside of you is boiling over in an orgasmic haze. Your skin prickles, as Eddie’s thrusting grows more erratic.

You grip harshly against his skin, fingers slipping and nails digging in harder with every final thrust bringing you through your searing high. 

“Fuck. Fuck, squeezing me so hard, baby.” He whimpers, hips meeting yours as he pushes deeply inside of you, balls tensing and cock twitching as he fills you up with the warm milkiness of his cum. He thrusts in and out of you, hips stuttering as he rides through his high before collapsing on top of you. 

His chest pushes against yours with every gasp of air as he catches his breath and you slowly but surely come back to reality. Reality— which is an absolutely sweltering hot, sweaty man on top of you. 

“You’re so sweaty.” You whisper, feeling the stickiness of his face press against your cheek, his hair sticking all over his face and your face. He laughs, the hot air of his breath fanning over the dripping sweat on your neck. 

“You too.” He says, pushing himself up with his arms to look at you. With drips of sweat beading down his temples, bangs sticking in all different directions, every hint of annoyance is gone from his eyes, leaving behind a hazy contentment mixed with adoration. 

“I think you gave me carpet burn.” You say, smiling despite the stinging burn on your back that you only notice now as he shifts on top of you, relieving you of his weight. 

“I think you drew blood.” He laughs, mirroring your smile. He sits up on his knees, pulling out from you with a mirrored gasp between the two of you. 

On his knees, he twists his upper body showing you the angry red lines you drew on his back with your nails. You gasp and he turns back around, looking at you with a knowing smile. 

“Here, sit up, baby.” He says, holding his arms out for you. You take them and he tugs you up, peering behind you at your back.

“Yup, s’all red.” He laughs. 

“Shower?” You say, pulling yourself closer to him. He pulls you up from the floor, slippery grip making you slide from him until he boosts you up, reclaiming a firm grip on your ass. 

“Fuck yeah, we need a shower.” He breathes as he walks you to the bathroom, kicking the door open. 

You and Eddie spent the next few hours sitting in the tub finding salvation from the muggy heat in the freezing cold water that runs from the tap. It was an uncomfortable fit in the small tub but with your knees pressed to your chest, your back to his front, and one of his calves hanging over the ledge, you both sat together, chattering quietly until you both were pruny and ready to get out. 

By the late evening, you were on better terms, arguing reduced to nothing but a playful teasing lilt.

Just as you both started to get ready for bed, the lights turned back on along with the beautiful melody of the air conditioner vibrating from the window. 

The room cooled down drastically, leaving you both happy and allowing for you to cuddle in bed, completely sweat free.

As soon as your heads hit your pillows, with your bodies relaxing into each other as you nodded off to sleep, everything that transpired in the heated power outage reduced to a moment of the past that you two will grow to laugh at over time. 

You did gather one thing though, getting Eddie riled up before sex is extremely entertaining. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

[carbonfiction]

i’m a resident jean hater because she’s really not all that (she makes me insecure as hell because she’s tall and slim and i’m short and just a liiiittle bit stout) and plus she only has that hot demure boring energy like wheres the fun in that? boring ahh hell😹plus she’s got a fake ass MD. would logan immediately lose interest in her the second charles hires the new young social studies teacher that prances in with her big framed specs, bouncy fat rack curls and nervous disheveled bubbly personality? she has so many facts on the top of her head from all the wars he fought and what?? he also sees her in the lab??? she has a plant mutation and she dabbles in biology???? AND she was in law school????? so she’s got a mouth on her… and when he finds out by eavesdropping that she’s a virgin and a squirter one night that the girls all confess secrets he loses it, completely tuning out jean’s confessions. he wants to ruin that smart girl 🐱 so bad.

can i please take the 🐳 emoji as an anon because this is my third ask and i’m both the bathtub and glasses anon i LOVE to yap

DEAR ANNNONNN HELLOO!! god im so sorry this took so long to reply to🥲 but you ABSOLUTELY can have🐳!!!

Honest that is so real as a fellow stout girlie (despite being on the slightly taller end)

Personally I just could never get into movie jean for a litany of reasons; i was and still am so much more of a storm and rogue kinda girl. And Especially within dynamics w logan; storm as a relationship interest is everything to me. (Ill never forget or forgive for what they took from us dofp stormverine kiss getting cut)

But logan and a fairly 'innocent' mouthy smart girl??? Oh that man is following like a puppy. He his obsessed.

I feel like he would love a smart girl so much. Theres just something so alluring about someone so confident in their knowledge and skills. not to mention the cocky twang of pride that threads through him whenever he sees you correct someone on a piece of info; never condisending but explaining the actual fact to who whomever got confused. (likely poor scott which instantly wins you extra brownie points bc you?? Gorgeous and smart girl happily correcting scott on a mistake??? His knees are buckled)

But there issss another perk of him having a smart, inexperienced girl.. And thats when he can turn his smart, headstrong princess all dumb.

When simple touches from his fingers, tongue and eventually, cock can all change you from chatty, brainy and sometimes even a little bratty into a babbling, brainless mess soaking through his sheets.

Getting to finally fuck the brains right out of his cleverest girls pretty head by way of her tight puffy cunt? Truly his favorite thing at the end of a long day.

(I rambled my way through this im so sorry- is it even cohesive idk?? but i do have manymanymany thoughts on smart girl reader that i might have to expand on at some stage..)

[hugemilkshake]

Yan Shadow milk x Gender neutral reader? (Oneshot)

Enjoy the milkshake! I brainstormed this for a while but I came up with an idea, I would wait for the smilk update but I’m not that patient

Idk if this reads off as yandere sooooo-

Just a little TLC

-Romantic or Platonic-

!TW! Under the cut will be themes like obsessivness, harming another and trying to change someone’s identity ig?

Boring. That’s the best way Shadow Milk could describe Pure Vanillas life. He’s been watching the fool for years now and while it’s fun to see his guilt and stuff but something interesting needed to happen!

That’s when Pure Vanilla met you.

At first you weren’t anything special, just some cookie who was dragged to Pure Vanillas Kingdom by the brave kid. Honestly you were quite boring.

But that aided in your appeal! You were so basic that Shadow Milk started to feel an… itch. An itch to make you interesting, an itch to turn you into something entertaining!

The thought of you being something more consumed his thoughts, you looked nice, but not unique enough. You’re personality was fun, but not fun enough!

You needed a little TLC, and that was fine! He was going to help you stand out and be the most interesting and amazing cookie to exist!

He’d make sure of it.

—————————————

You put your hand on Pure Vanillas shoulder in a panic, he wasn’t moving, he was just blankly staring at the tree. The seal had been broken and there was a chill in the air. But then… it felt like the chill was in your dough. The coldness of your dough and others checking on Pure Vanilla broke him from chance.

Everyone was tense, this Shadow Milk fella was ominous. You felt his gaze on you. It was locked onto you. You shifted around uncomfortably, the cookies around you noticed this. Elder Faerie stepped infront of you, he seemed determined yet a little part of him was anxious… I wonder why…

“Ah this is quite the audience! I will need a volunteer for my show stopping performance though! Now who to choose..” Shadow Milk looked at everyone like he was going to pluck someone away for his “performance”

There was a strong pause before you felt your limbs being pulled up slightly, before you felt yourself get jerked up harshly.

“Y/N COOKIE!” As strings dig into your skin, Elder Faerie jumped up to try and grab your hand, but you slipped away from him like sand

“Now you look like you’d be a good puppet! Although… you need some extra flair, but don’t worry about that! I’ll fix your right up so you’ll be perfect!”

You felt a chil go up your spine as a darkness crept into your mind. Your vision also blanked out.

….

…

..

.

You woke up with concerned eyes on you, and a burning sensation in your arms. Pure Vanilla was looking over your arms. “What… happened…?” You questioned, there was a silence, no one was expecting you to not remember what’s happened, but Strawberry Cookie spoke up

“You became one of Shadow Milks Puppets… I don’t think things went well for you..” she gestured to your arms. You looked down and saw that your arms were cut up, presumably from those strings from earlier

You saw that you were a mess, your hair felt messy and not to mention that some of your clothes had been switched to more of a jester like outfit.

“What about Elder Faerie…?” Everyone was quiet. You could feel your heart sink. He was gone. But no one wanted to break the news… you felt tears starting to prick at your eyes.

You were sacred. You were confused. You wanted to go home, but with the crashed airship…

Home wasn’t an option.

—————————————

Finally. You were in Shadow Milks grasp, you can finally become the star of the show that you were meant to be! Oh all the ideas that he had for you!

You were going to be perfect!

But… there was an unexpected issue…

You were too unique.

Everything about you was boring yet not, no cookie looked like you, it was hard to decide what to change about you because you were so perfect yet imperfect!

It irritated him.

Shadow Milk had been planning on this for months! And now that your here he can’t bring himself to do ANYTHING

He tried changing your outfit and hair style, HELL he even tried making you act out a scene of you laughing at the fools trying to seal him away and save you but it felt wrong. It frustrated him.

When those pesky cookies got closer to him it enraged him more. Everything was going wrong. He even threw you around a couple of times, your arms had jam on them and Shadow Milk swore he felt some form of remorse after it but it couldn’t compare to is anger.

When you left his grasp it felt like a relief yet it felt painful. Seeing Pure Vanilla heal you made his jam boil.

But WHY?

WHATS SO SPECIAL ABOUT YOU?

One way or another… Shadow Milk was going to find out….

[stickyspeckledlight]

“…..allow me to ask, how the fuck did you both manage to break into my house, yet alone find a way to come to my world, Jade and Floyd Leech?”

But, where else can we find a thing so interesting?

Note: I can’t decide if I should use shrimps or koebi-chan so….idk comment on which one I should use for future Floyd stuff lol. Also first time writing any yan twst! Let’s hope I get it right lmao

(Speckled's End of Year Interaction Prompts, 12/2/24 ~ 1/1/25)

“Oya,” Jade exclaimed, “What strong language, [Name]-san. And after all the struggle we went through to see you again?” He simpered, sorrow every bit as faked as his surprise, “I’m deeply hurt.”

Unlike Jade, Floyd didn’t bother with theatrics. “Aha! Koeeeeebi-chan!” Floyd cried out, laughing with pure merriment, lunging toward your person. You shriek, dodging his initial lunge, but Floyd is unfairly reflexive and fast. Before you can so much as sprint, your limbs are already being squeezed in his hold. You gasp breathlessly, struggling to even breathe with how tightly he’s holding you. The sloppy, messy kiss Floyd gives you immediately doesn’t help matters either; it’s all spit and possessiveness, tongue practically going down your throat and teeth sinking into your lips.

From where you struggle and choke, Floyd only squeals with even more delight. “Squeeeeezeeeeeee~ Koebi-chan’s soooo soft,” he laughs, rubbing his cheek against your head, all crushing softness and joy, “I missed having you around, y’know. Leaving me with all those boring guppies—” and his voice drops, and his head dips into your neck, “—I probably should kill you for doing that to me,” he mutters, sharp teeth grazing your skin. At your tensing and shivering, he only breaks into more laughter, mood swinging back into perverted joy.

“Floyd, be careful with the dear,” Jade lightly chastised, “The poor thing looks like they’ll faint at any moment now. It’d be a shame to end things as quickly as they started, no?” His words are far from kind, far from concerned, even. They are ever bit as pleasured as Floyd’s laughs, and serve only to remind him that there’s more fun to be had from this.

Floyd doesn’t immediately let you go, but his hold lightens enough to where you can breathe steadily enough. “You feelin’ better?” Floyd sweetly asks, like he wasn’t the one who put you in this state in the first place.

You attempt to free yourself, but even in Floyd’s loose(r) hold, there is no escape. Floyd doesn’t even seem to struggle at all, yawning even as your flails grow more desperate. Floyd looks at your wall and zones out, his interest in you momentarily waned. Jade lightly chuckles at your plight.

You growl in frustration, “At least answer my questions!” You seethe, glaring at them both and baring your teeth, “I thought we were done. I thought I would be rid of you! So why are you here to torment me again?!”

You had met Jade and Floyd after exams, when Azul’s plans to take Ramshackle for himself were underway. After his overblot, you thought you were free of the twins torment of you, but they only kept pursuing you—without any directive from Azul whatsoever. It made every moment from the on in Twisted Wonderland unbearable, and when Crowley found a way for you to come back home, you took it at that instant. Sure, it was a bit cold to leave behind everyone without any goodbye, but who could blame you? Fault you? It wasn’t like everyone else there wasn’t selfish either, all in their own ways.

Even when you weren’t in Twisted Wonderland though, the twins haunted your dreams. They fed into your paranoia, your refusal to make friends, to love and kiss and be a silly student—it took you years to rip yourself from their influence, but you did it. You built a life for yourself with your own hands, and even Jade and Floyd Leech could stop you.

Until now, that is.

In classic Jade fashion, he finds an avenue to easily avoid giving answers. You might never get those answers, at this rate. “Torment? You must be mistaken,” Jade tsks, “As I recall, we gave you only the best; as ‘lovers’ do, I might add.”

Indignity flares in your chest. “Bullshit! You threatened me and my friends! Isolated and stalked me!”

“Hah?” You violently gasp, having the air knocked out of you. Your eyes bludge; your tongue lolls; your ribcage compresses like it’s cheap plastic beneath Floyd’s arms. “Those anemones were better company than us?” Floyd darkly mumbles, before laughing again, “Then again, you left us before, so you’re pretty stupid. Your opinions and stuff can’t really be trusted anymore.”

As if he ever cared before.

Jade doesn’t chide his brother this time. He lets out an appreciative hum as you truly choke. A gloved finger delicately rests on your cheek bone, before more are added to cup your cheek. As your vision spots with black, you are only caressed. As your eyes beg for mercy, mercy that anyone dying would beg for, only a chaste peck is given to your bloody lips. As tears of pure fear for the life before you and the sheer despair of losing everything again stream from your eyes, only laughter, one gently cruel and the other excitably sadistic.

“It would be an issue if you found out how we arrived here,” Jade finally answered, playing with a strand of your hair. “As Floyd so graciously pointed out, your decision making process cannot be trusted at this time.”

As if they ever would.

“Worry not, [Name]-san,” Jade grins wider. It’s not a nice smile; his teeth peak from it, and that’s always been a sign that he’s ready to take a bite from you. A sign that, as you quickly predicted, has him dipping his face against your juglar. “You’ll want for nothing in our care. Even this ‘freedom,’ you so cherish…”

He darkly chuckles.

“We’ll make it so it won’t be something they want for much longer, right Floyd?”

Laughter consumes your world before you completely succumb to the pressure, fated to wake in captivity for the rest of your life.

[briardoll]

The Obey Me! Side datables (+ Luke) react to seeing your human form for the first time!

(This comes from the idea that you were actually in sheep form during the exchange program until you went back to the human world, scroll down through my posts for reference)

Also I’m so so sorry I was gone so long I lost motivation and couldn’t write anything for a while but guess what? We are so back!! (I might disappear again idk yet)

Diavolo finds that you look very close to what he thought you would (he already knew), he compliments your hair and your face and he likes your hands a lot. They’re so much smaller than his! Most people are smaller than him but you really take the cake, after all humans are much shorter and weaker physically compared to demons or angels, he asks you to stay for dinner with him and Barbatos and insists on treating you to a nice night in! A slumber party just for you and him, but don’t expect to do much that doesn’t come from the book ‘Youthful Fun 101”. Maybe try teaching him some human world memes! …Or don’t actually.. he might start saying them in the wrong situations out of context. Whoops.

Barbatos knew what you looked like but was still pleasantly surprised to see you look like you in person. He also enjoys your hands.??? What is with the royal palace and hands? He likes how they look holding pens, utensils, teacups, you name it. If you ask, he’ll select outfits that will make you look very elegant and classy, perfect for a date with the young Lord! Or him, if you’d be willing to wait for a break to be had. (aka a long long time, but if you do, you’re guaranteed to have a tremendous time)

Simeon heard your voice ring through purgatory hall, a thing his ears cherish, he turns to see a sweet yet unfamiliar figure standing in the doorway, a pretty smile on your face and the eyes he couldn’t stop staring into your eyes, they gave away your identity without you having to re-introduce yourself. “MC! You certainly look different today, please, come in, I’m making BLT’s for lunch, I’ll prepare one for you too!” You happily accepted his offer and lunch was great!

Luke got word that you had a bit of a surprise waiting in the kitchen, which is good because he’s been meaning to have you try the cupcakes he’s been tweaking the recipe to. Walking into the kitchen there’s… a random person? Is that you, or someone else? You see him and go to hug him, and say that you got his message about the cupcakes and will try them after lunch, but, he doesn’t care about that now, he’s more interested in your new style! The difference is astounding, your hair and your face and everything! You look like a real human! He thought you actually had pink hair so he was somewhat surprised it wasn’t actually lol.

Solomon is the first to see you, and since you have some alone time, he cups your face in his hands and moves them to run his fingers through your hair. He’s so in love it’s crazy, being with you makes him feel young, and somewhat like a.. normal human? The casualty between you makes him feel less like the great sorcerer and king Solomon, instead he feels like just, Solomon. With you nothing is boring, and if you want to really excite him, you can use those soft sweet lips to give him a kiss or two?

[attackurheart88]

hi! I just had this idea of Illumi going to introduce his girlfriend/fiancée to his family, except that she's a spoiled queen bee regina george-ish/cher horowitz like (somehow, they managed to be a couple). Idk really, the image got in my head and I thought it would be funny to see the Zoldycks reaction lmao

When Illumi made mention of his future wife, surprise and disbelief exploded in his family’s eyes. They intended him to follow family traditions and continue the Zoldyck line of course, but when it came to finding a partner the family was sure an arranged match would be needed.

To think there was a woman on this Earth who not only found attraction with Illumi but Illumi himself approved of was a huge shock.

Silva expected the woman to be strong and bear powerful children for the Zoldyck family.

Kikyo believed the woman’s beauty was what attracted her son.

Zeno felt pity for the woman as she must’ve been submissive and easy for Illumi to control.

The traits of being soft-spoken, delicate, graceful, and well-educated gathered in everyone's mind.

But…

A young woman dressed fashionably in black and leopard strutting into the Zoldyck family mansion as if she owned it and Illumi trailing behind holding a cat was far from their predictions.

It took a lot for Kikyo to hold in her anger and not faint at the sight.

“Father, Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my fiancee.”

A displeased grunt from his fiancee and Illumi was quick to add to his sentence.

“And her cat, Cassandra.”

Silva didn’t respond at first. He just stared at Camilla, his steely gaze lingering on her Prada dress, the excessive jewelry, and—unfortunately—the very loud sound of her heels.

Was this the best his son could do? Did he fail as a father somewhere? Perhaps he broke him too early.

You completely unbothered, smiled brightly and stuck out your hand

“It's very nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Zoldyck. You have a lovely home.”

He looked at her hand as though it might bite him, and then—after a long, uncomfortable silence—gave a small, formal nod.

“I’m glad you think so-” Kikyo started.

“But it could be redecorated don't you think?” you continued.

“What?”

Did she just insult the state of their home.

“Black and white is so outdated. Perhaps a shade of red or purple might do. What do you think Illumi?”

“I’ll keep it in mind when building a place for you.”

Silva and Zeno exchanged glances. It was clear this woman found a way to exert control over Illumi. Such a thing was unspeakable. Either she used an ability of some sort or she truly is that influential. It was dangerous either way.

Taking initiative Zeno spoke up. “Are you aware of our families occupation?”

“Of course, you're assassins, right? Illumi has told me all about it. I promise I'm more than able to continue the business-

A pin was thrown in your direction aimed for the neck but you were able to grab it swiftly.

“Is this a gift? It's beautiful. I have a dress in this same color to pair it with,” you explained excitedly while looking over the jeweled hairpin.

Kikyo frowned at her failure to inflict damage.

“How was it the two of you met?” Silva asked wanting to keep things on track.

Illumi glanced at you before answering. “I met her while completing a job. She was arguing with my target and stabbed him in a fit of rage.”

“I see. Was that the first time you’ve killed someone?”

You adjusted in your seat and gave a small sigh of impatience. “Am I the only one who thinks this kind of talk is boring? For such an infamous family I was expecting much more entertainment.” You examined your perfectly manicured nails.

“Honestly you're just like Illumi, Sliva was it? Much too serious.”

Illumi’s lip twitched at the playful jab. Silva's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“What do you do for fun around here? I mean, besides, you know, the whole... killing people thing."

A tense silence followed.

“Nothing?”

“Has anyone ever heard about hobbies? Knitting, cooking, reading, yoga? For such a well-off family one would expect that you should have a spa day once in a while. A family day at the beach. Just relaxing. You know, take a break from all the stabbing."

“Relaxing?” Silva questioned in disbelief.

“Yes. Surely it must be tiring being all serious and stabby all the time. I know a guy who is amazing at massages. I could give you his number. You look like you need one.”

A chuckle could be heard from Zeno.

“You’re rather amusing. I can see why Illumi is so taken with you.”

“I always aim to please, Grandpa.”

Zeno raised an eyebrow at the endearment. But didn't say anything in fact, he seemed rather pleased.

The evening continued that way. Despite the family making plenty of attempts to threaten or test you. You continued to exceed their expectations and bring humor and warmth into the home.

[breadbrobin]

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

———————————————

if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.

[agustdtown1]

Prompt no. 15 with Taehyung

PAIRING: kim taehyung x fem!reader.

WC: 2.4k

WARNINGS: the prompt is in bold, age gap (th is 35 & reader is 25), smut 18+, unprotected sex, dom!taehyung, idk if it would actually count as degradation but I’m throwing it in there just in case, idk tae just likes to make fun of reader and how desperate she is for him 🤷🏻‍♀️, doggy, chocking, slight clit slapping, a bit of masturbation (on readers end), sir kink, begging and a whole lotta petnames; btw this is not proofread.

A/N: thank you for your request, i hope you like it! I enjoyed writing this one sm.

prompt list | event masterlist | general masterlist

Unapproachable, stoic, cold-hearted and undeniably handsome, that’s what Kim Taehyung was. A man of many qualities and few flaws, one that could make any woman —or man, for that matter— weak in the knees with a single glance. His elegant mannerisms often drew people’s attention towards him, making it impossible to avoid unwanted social interactions wherever he went. Taehyung didn’t like the undivided attention he has gained over the years, which in retrospect he should have known it was going to be a given after building a successful empire in the entertainment industry. Nonetheless, the man didn’t like being the center of attention most of the time.

Luckily for him, there were times when his solemn demeanor would make people think twice before trying to talk to him, and rightfully so, for every single attempt to start a conversation with him was quickly shut down with a stern gaze and a grimace that —according to the man himself— resembled a grin. His cold attitude, however, was exactly what drew you in.

The first time you met Kim Taehyung you couldn’t believe a man like him was even real. He presented himself before you at the gala that you and your family attended every year. The man was tall enough to tower over you; his dark hair was combed nicely to leave his forehead free, giving him an elegant look; his eyes, oh his eyes, those dark brown orbs who stared you down with such a fierce gaze knocked the air out of you. But what really sealed the deal was the ghost of a smile taking place on his lips. It would be a lie to say you weren’t looking at him all night, it was quite hard not to in all honesty. Hence, you realized the tall man was not fond of smiling at others, but oddly enough he was willing to show you a grin, albeit a bit feeble, but a grin nonetheless.

“This is not your type of party.” It wasn’t a question or a guess; the dark-haired man spoke with such firmness that it made you doubt just how well you knew yourself. “It’s quite obvious.”

Taehyung didn’t show any sort of emotion on the outside, but deep inside he was trying to conceal an amused smile; he knew girls like you would kill to be anywhere else than in such a boring event. Like drinking an obscene amount of cheap vodka at a cramped bar, while your friends were trying their best to move to the beat of any trendy song at the moment; the night would undoubtedly end with you hooking up with a random guy.

Oh how he missed being young and free.

However, that was exactly what you didn’t want nor needed to do. After facing such a nasty break up, the last thing you wanted to do was mess around with just any guy that comes walking straight to you. A change of scenery is what you desperately needed, and maybe, just maybe, a man like Kim Taehyung would be the perfect remedy for that.

“I’m going to show you how a real man fucks.”

The idea of fucking a man that was ten years older than you was completely preposterous, but perhaps that’s exactly why you decided to follow through and act on your impulsive thoughts. It was stupid to believe you would be able to get in between the sheets with a man like Kim Taehyung; unrealistic, too good to be true. Therefore, the consequences that you were most likely going to face in the near future didn’t feel too serious for you to decline his offer to fuck you senseless. And with a faint fuck it, you started the memory of a night that would be too difficult to forget.

Taehyung’s hands were all over your body, caressing your skin as if it was the most delicate porcelain he’s ever touched. His lips were leaving burning kisses up and down your neck, stealing gasps whenever he used his teeth to place a harsh mark on your tender flesh. The sensations were too much to bear and he had barely done anything.

“I need more.” A small plea for the pleasure you were eagerly seeking. “Don’t tease me, please.”

“I wanted to take my sweet time with you.” He mentioned, pulling away from the crook of your neck. “But how can I say no to that when you ask so nicely?”

Without further ado, Taehyung aligned his bare length with your soaked entrance, slightly teasing you by coating his tip with your juices.

“Just put it in!” You whined, trying to guide his cock into your pussy, only to receive a harsh slap on your thigh.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do, princess.” Kim retrieved slightly, clasping your neck with one of his big hands. “That attitude might have worked with the dumb guys you’ve fucked before, but I’m not like them. If you want something you better start acting right, otherwise you’ll get nothing.” His hot breath was falling against your face due to how close he was. “Am I clear?” You nodded dumbly, but that wasn’t enough for him. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, you’re very clear.”

“Now, that’s a good girl.”

Taehyung didn’t wait for you to realize what was happening, before he slowly pushed his cock right into your drenched cunt, enjoying the warm feeling.

“Shit, you’re so tight, doll.” The man noted, already entranced by the way your walls were sucking him in. “You might not be able to take it all.”

A cry escaped from your mouth in a clear protest at what he was saying. You knew your body and your limits, and as big as Taehyung was —more than what you imagined, actually—, you were sure that you were able to take all of him. There was no need for going slow or being cautious with you, in fact, it was pointless to do so with the way you were desperately trying to get him closer to you.

“I will.” You assured him. “Don’t hold back, I can take it, I swear.” With a teasing smile you continued. “Weren’t you going to show me how a real man fucks?”

Hearing his own words coming from your mouth was like an awakening moment; you could see the switch in his demeanor, how his eyes darkened and his grip grew tighter around your waist.

“You better not be lying, doll.”

In a split of a second, Taehyung pulled out of your warm walls to flip you over and make you lay on your stomach.

“Ass up.” He ordered with a serious tone.

Kim didn’t waste a second longer before he reinserted himself inside your pussy. That magical feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around his cock was one he would never forget. The way you were, in fact, taking all of him so effortlessly was driving him crazy.

“Oh my fucking god.” You moaned, due to not only the change in position but also speed.

“This what you wanted, love? Me fucking you dumb, until your legs are shaking and the only thing on your mind is my damn name.” Taehyung was an experienced man, and along with experience came the knowledge of saying the right things to rile you up.

Even more than he already has.

“Yes, fuck. I want nothing more!”

Taehyung increased the pace of his thrusts, making you feel him ridiculously deep by the way he was pounding into you.

“Shit, just like that, don’t stop.” You cried out, fisting the sheets to ground yourself.

To your surprise, the response you got to your previous sentence was nothing more than a slap to your ass cheek, making you groan and jolt in your place.

“What was that for?”

“I already told you, darling.” He panted. “You’re no one to give me orders.”

His veiny hands were holding your hips furiously, digging his fingers in your soft flesh, and you knew for sure that there were going to be some marks showing in the morning. However, you couldn’t care any less at the moment, your only concern was getting that sweet release that was slowly approaching. By the way his cock was reaching all the right places, you knew that it wouldn’t take that long to finally get it, but you needed a bit more, just a little push.

One of your own hands drifted down to messily rub your clit in a rapid motion. Moans and whines were falling from your lips, muffled by the soft pillow. You could feel it, that sweet feeling of unraveling; an electrifying sensation running through your body to let you know your orgasm was approaching. Fingers were moving with haste, urgently touching your clit.

A deep chuckle echoed through the room, and before you could even react a much bigger hand grabbed your wrist and rudely pushed it away from your folds.

“You dumb little brat,” Taehyung sneered. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” His hand slapped your clit a few times, stealing whines from your mouth. “It is clear for me that I need to teach you some manners.”

The tall man lowered himself enough for you to feel his hot chest covering your bare back; dangerous lips brushing the shell of your ear while his muscular arm made its way up to wrap itself loosely around your neck. “Come on, ask for it. Nicely.”

You just wanted to scream; the way he was fucking you, along with his words, was driving you crazy. Not only was it the fact that his cock was repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours due to the way Taehyung was still ramming into you, but also his husky voice was making wonders to you. The man as a whole was so intoxicating; corrupting your mind with his indecent behavior and lewd touching. But far from wanting to get out of his spell, you leaned into his warm chest, saying his name like a sinful prayer.

“Taehyung… I wa-want you to touch me… please.”

“Touching you is all I’ve been doing since I saw you in that tight dress, sweetheart.” He stated. “Isn’t this enough?”

His free hand was hovering over your swollen clit, which was almost crying for his fingers to run wild over it. So close yet so far from what you needed.

“No…” You sighed; arms giving up and legs starting to shake, a matter of time before you would have to desperately beg for your release.

“Tsk, so greedy.”

Taehyung wanted to prolong your suffering by running his fingers close enough to your clit, but he reckoned this encounter had been going on for longer than the time he had to spare. And so, instead of being the asshole who would laugh at your desperation, he busied his hand nested in between your thighs, rubbing circles on your clit with his skilled fingers; it was clear as day that the extra touching was making you sensitive, and he loved to have such an effect on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He teased you, sporting a bright and mocking smile on his face that you, unfortunately, couldn’t see. “Being touched like this really turns you on, huh? You get satisfied with so little, so used to being barely taken care of to be ambitious and ask for something else than the bare minimum.”

If you weren’t sure that Kim Taehyung wasn’t like any other guy you have met before, the way he talked to you really cemented the idea. No man, or boy for that matter, has ever spoken to you in the way Taehyung did. Haughty, arrogant, conceited, those were just a few of the words you could use to describe the brown-eyed man at that precise moment. Acting so sure of himself and the pleasure he could —already did— provide you with. His words were a clear example of how full of himself Taehyung really was. Surprisingly enough, that was exactly what lured you into begging him to give you more.

An ego boost, if you will, but it would assure you a mind blowing orgasm if you kept acting like that.

“Oh fuck, I’m so close.” You moaned. “You’re fucking me so good, sir.”

That word, which was far from being foreign for the tall man, fueled the fire within his body.

You really knew how to play his game.

“Say it again.” Taehyung ordered.

“Sir…” You moaned. “Please let me cum.”

A long overdue plea. Kim acknowledged that your breaking point was near, he could tell by the way you were clenching on his cock, almost making it impossible for him to move

“Fuck.” He panted, tightening the grip on your neck, which was previously loose. “You really wan it, don’t you?”

You nodded vehemently, whining and squirming beneath his body.

“Go on then, make my cock all creamy, princess.”

It was an automatic response to his lewd words. Your body exploded in a plethora of emotions and sensations that it has never experienced before. Toes curling, legs trembling, mouth agape, with moans worthy of being the audio of a porno running free through the room. Your vision became blurry for a moment, head too heavy to keep it up; your face ended up being squished against the soft pillow, while your body tried to recover from such an intense orgasm.

Through the years, you gained a fair amount of knowledge about what your body liked when it came to sex, but the things Taehyung did and said to you opened your eyes to a new side of yourself that was unfairly hidden, due to the poor performance of your previous sexual partners. But as amazing as it was, there was a pinch of fear invading your mind and heart for the same reason. No one has been able to give you what Taehyung did, and there was a very high chance that you would never be in the same situation as you were right now; how will you survive in a world where Kim Taehyung wasn’t the man making you see stars with a single touch?

“Are you okay, princess?” His husky voice invaded your ears like a sweet melody. “Hey, look at me, pretty, come back to me… there you are.”

A ghost of a smile, a genuine one, was adorning his face, making you feel uneasy.

How can a man like him be real? Where has he been all my life?

“I hope you’re not tired yet, because we’re not done here.” His small smile turned into a full smirk.

You were worried about the days to come, when your only comfort would be replaying this night over and over again in your head, but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to think about that for now.

“You’re mine for the rest of the night, doll.”

Taglist 🏷️: @aphrwodite @r1r111 @cholychi @artificialsuicid @vsr4197

[fairlyang]

Summer Lovin’ 🕷️

in which you have a little summer romance fling

w/c: 3.9K

pairing: greaser!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. exhibitionism, making out, sucking on tits, eating out, fingering, praise kink, blowjob. mention of face sitting, overstimulation, 69, eating pussy underwater (LMAO), spilling the tea x2

notes: reposting my precious baby, my fav, my grease au series!! might post part two after this idk but I’m writing part 3 and I’m excited :D 🤝🏼

part two — part three

You had spent almost your entire summer in California, and being from the Midwest you took advantage of the hot weather and beaches.

You had stayed at your aunt's house along with your parents but not your older sister who apparently didn't wanna "burn to a crisp" but you didn't mind. In fact you loved feeling the sun on your skin and spent most of your days on the beach.

Your sister had teased you about a summer fling and maybe you'd meet someone but won't be able to bring them back. You called bullshit and said you weren't out searching for that kinda thing.

That was until you met him.

Miguel O'Hara.

One day you were reading a book on the beach under an umbrella when a guy came up to you and you were a little shell shocked looking at him. He was gorgeous. So handsome.

He asked what you were reading which made you laugh because he did not look like the reading type. He wore a black leather jacket and his hair slicked back, you can imagine reading is not one of his things.

And who the hell wears a leather jacket in the hot weather?

But nonetheless you still answered and he just nodded along probably pretending he knew what you were talking about.

"Well I came over because I thought you were gorgeous." He says giving you a wide smile, showing off his crooked pearly whites.

You chuckle and close your book, leaving it on your lap, "oh I bet a guy like you says that to all the girls." You say playfully rolling your eyes and he shakes his head.

"Only to the really special ones." He responds sweetly and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

And with that you were sold.

Almost too easy.

But it felt real.

Genuine.

You had spent the first three weeks of August with Miguel. Splashing around, building many sand castles, playing volleyball. Tanned while getting to know each other, had little picnic dates on the beach.

It was so surreal to you and he was such a gentleman.

But on the third week was when he was more flirty than usual, always touching you subtly like grabbing your hand or having his arm around your waist.

He would even twirl you around as you walked along the sand which just had you laughing as you tried not to fall.

One specific time he wrapped his arms around you as you watched the sun set, the waves lightly hitting your feet. He gently trailed his fingers along your waist making you turn to look at him, he was already looking at you, with a mischievous look on his face if anything.

He then leaned down, letting his forehead lean against yours, "you're so beautiful."

You smile and feel your body grow warm, "you're not too bad yourself Miggy."

He then let go of you and stood in front of you, bringing a hand up to gently cup your cheek. His eyes were sparkling and he just looked so handsome up close.

The pink, orange, and yellow rays of the sun hitting the sides of your faces as he looked down at your lips. He couldn't help himself.

And he knew he'd never see you again after this considering you'd have to fly back home so what's a little fun on your last week here?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer which only makes him chuckle, "no patience huh?" He teased and you shrugged.

"We only live once... and we might as well while we're young.." you say and lean up, pretty eyes boring into his.

He was quite shocked that you were the one making the moves but he wanted to be the one to actually do it.

So he did.

He leaned in and kissed you gently, you instantly kissed back and you swore you could feel fireworks erupting in your stomach. It felt so right. So nice.

He nipped on your bottom lip to which you then return as you feel his hands exploring your body. You felt them snake their way down your back then staying by your lower back.

Then you felt them slowly trickling lower to which you had to pull away and shake your head, "eager hm? No patience huh?" You mock and he snickers.

"Couldn't help myself doll." He murmurs and pecks your lips softly.

You melted back into his arms and kissed back before he pulled away and then leaned in to peck your lips again. He repeated this until you burst into fits of giggles which had Miguel ignoring the effect it made on him and pulled away, grabbing you by the hand as you went back to walking on the sand.

Things only progressed throughout your last week.

He snatched more kisses from you until the sun was gone and you had to go home.

The next day he had you on his lap and making out with you while his hand was trailing around your thigh. Only testing the waters.

But also playing around with you.

You were a good girl, not ever looking for trouble like this. But it seemed to have found its way to you.

And you couldn't help but want to open yourself up more to him, maybe not just kisses.

At least those were your thoughts when you were in bed, daydreaming about him.

You met up again on the third day and decided to maybe go a little further. Just a tiny bit.

So you were on his lap again, making out when you start to slowly grind yourself on him. He moaned into your mouth and it only made you grow more excited but you didn't want to push yourself too much.

And he was okay with that.

His hands were on your waist helping you move as his tongue explored your mouth. Gotta love a man that can multitask.

You moved faster and could feel his bulge grow hard beneath you. It made your skin feel hot and deep down you wanted to take it forward but also knew you probably shouldn't.

"Miguel-" you breathed out and pulled away but he latched his lips on your neck, kissing harshly against your skin.

You bite your lip and he made you continue your movements as he hummer onto your skin. "I- I-I think- maybe we s-should st- fuck-" you stutter and moan as he sucks on your neck then pulls away peppering the hickey in kisses.

"What were you saying doll?" He asks and kisses down your chest.

That day you decided to wear a bikini top with some shorts, clearly he appreciated that right now as he kissed your cleavage, bringing a hand up to squeeze your left breast. You moan and feel your eyes flutter, already losing your train of thought.

"W-We shouldn't do this here-" you breathe out but it didn't matter, he was already pulling your bikini top up.

"Miguel!" You squealed trying to cover yourself and looking around but it was vacant.

"There's nobody out here, you know we've been having this side of the beach all to ourselves for weeks." He murmurs and gently moves your hands away.

"So beautiful." He murmurs before squeezing both tits and latching on to your left nipple.

You bit your lip and held onto his head, you couldn't even blame yourself. You knew you wanted this. And that heat going straight to your core was the proof.

He pulled away and immediately sucked on your right breast, pinching your left nipple making you shift on his lap. He moaned against you and you almost forgot he was already hard. Almost.

It was kind of hard to forget since you were directly on him.

So you began to slowly grind on him again making him groan as you moved your hips back and forth. He pulled away and breathed out, "Just like that angel."

Your face flushed and you put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you continued your pace. "Good, good girl." He murmurs before sucking on your left breast, leaving yet another mark.

A moaned escaped your lips and you can see a smirk on his when he pulled away. He looked up at you and pecks your lips before pulling away and taking you off his lap and setting you to his right side on the shared blanket.

He then moved down your body, hands already undoing the button and zipper of your shorts. You lift your ass up and he slides your shorts off setting them to the side.

He then gets between your legs, kissing and squeezing your thighs and he neared where you so desperately needed him. He kissed your left inner thigh then moved to the right side to do the same.

He then went down and looked at the soaked spot on your panties, nearly drooling. "Look at you doll, already so wet." He murmurs looking up at you before leaning in and leaving the softest kiss on your clit.

You moaned and bucked your hips forward but his strong arms kept you in place which only made you whine. But he didn't care.

He was going to go at his own pace. Just like you did when you were on his lap.

Even if he technically was making you a move a bit.

But still.

He gently moved your panties to his right side as you squirmed, whining above him but he ignored you to pay all his undivided attention to your gorgeous sopping cunt. "Oh baby this all for me?" He murmurs and you feverishly nod.

He tuts and smirks looking up at you, "such a dirty girl. Thought you were a sweet innocent good girl?" He teases only making you grow more wet by the second.

"God you're so perfect." He coos before diving full on in to your cunt, immediately getting a taste of how sweet you are.

You moan and bring a hand down to pull his closer already. You needed him so badly and didn't want to waste more time.

And he could tell.

He didn't mind, given how he started lapping at your folds and his nose practically buried in your clit. "Miguel-“ You moan out and he hums sending a vibration of pleasure curse through your body.

You look down at him and buck your hips forward, this time he doesn't stop you, letting you grind your perfect cunt against his mouth. His mouth went up and down your slit, slurping up your juices as you continued your melody of pretty moans for him.

He looked into your ears as he came up and flicked his tongue on your clit earning himself more moans. He brought his hands up and intertwined them with yours as you bucked your hips against his face, grinding yourself against his tongue. "Shit- feels so good Miggy." You moan and he hums against your cunt.

He moans and lets go of your left hand, bringing his right hand to start teasing your hole with the tip of his finger. He pulls away, lips glistening from your slick making you smile as he licks your arousal off. "Need more doll?" He coos and you nod.

"Yes- yes please Miguel." You whimper and he nods, shoving his middle finger inside you.

You groan and your walls clench against his digits as he starts fucking you hard. "Oh fuck!" You moan and grip your right hand against his.

"Feel good angel?" He asks softly and you nod with an almost drunken smile.

"So pretty baby." He mutters and then slides in his second finger immediately pounding his digits into you.

You let out a loud moan and try to close your legs but he quickly let go of your hand and spread them open. "Too much already doll?" He mocks making you whimper.

His fingers were much thicker than yours and you haven't had any other fingers inside you besides your own. At least in a long time.

"Look at you taking them so well." He says and looking at your cunt just sucking his fingers in.

He then shuts up and brings his mouth back to your clit, tongue flicking on your nub while his mouth sucks harshly. Your body was getting hotter and your legs were shaking as you kept them wide open for him. "Fuck!"

His praises only continued and drove your mind wild, and just like that you found out you had a praise kink. And he used that to his advantage.

Mumbling as many praises to you seeing just how much more wet you'd get for him as well seeing how long it'd take for you to just cum off his praise.

And it didn't take long for you to feel your orgasm approach before quickly taking over and your climax hit as he was calling you his good girl.

You let out cries as you came and clenched on his fingers, entire body shaking as he fucked you slowly letting you ride your high.

As soon as your breathing calmed down and he slipped his fingers out of you, you sat up and got him to sit in your position. "C'mon your turn pretty boy." You coo and he chuckles but moves so anyway.

And without another word you laid down between his knees and undid his shorts as fast as you could. You slid them off his legs and left them on top of yours before slipping his cock out of his boxers. You left those on and just started stroking him.

You lean in and lick his tip, tasting his precum and swallowing every drip then spit on the tip and letting it drip down before stroking him again. He let out a shaky breath and you looked up at him with innocent eyes that drove hims absolutely insane. "You look so pretty." He murmurs making you squeeze your thighs together.   

You then took him in your mouth, slowly bringing your head down at first not thinking you'd be able to take all of him considering how thick he was but you were slowly getting there. Only took a few minutes to take half of him before he put his hands on your head and made you take him deeper.

You were gagging against him which only made him thrust his hips into your mouth making you take all of him. You closed your eyes already feeling them fill with tears but you fought through it and took him all the way feeling his happy trail hit your nose.

You pulled away and gasped, panting but then slipped him back into your mouth and letting him do it again but for a longer period of time.

Soon enough you felt him twitch in your mouth as he was deep in your throat. You closed your eyes, breathed through your nose and prayed for the best.

He groaned and his legs shook beneath you as he shoots his load down your throat. You swallowed as much as you could but it was too much so you pulled away and let it fall in his thighs. You start stroking him slowly which makes him whine as his cock twitched at the sudden contact but yet more cum continued shooting out.

"Oh fuck!" He moans as you stroke him and go down to clean it up with your tongue.

You made sure to lick off every drop before finally taking your hand off him and taking notice he was breathing heavily. "Holy shit-" he mutters and grabs your face, bringing you in for a kiss.

You kiss back and he slides his tongue into your mouth, getting a taste of himself which only made you weak in the knees.

He then pulled away and gave you a sheepish grin, "that was- do you really have to leave?" He says and you laugh.

"Sadly. But I still have a few days left!" You say and he chuckles before bringing you into his chest as you both looked up and see a few twinkling stars above you.

And you used those days up to the best of your ability.

Now you told him the one exception was you didn't want to fuck, not there at least.

So the following day he had you wear a dress and made you sit on his face. And he made sure to emphasize "sitting down" because he wanted to feel all your weight on him.

You were scared you'd crush him but he said that'd just be the most badass way to die which only made you slap his arm. But you ended up sitting on his face and it was the best thing you'd ever tried.

You ended up like that for a good few hours before your poor pussy grew tired and you were just so overstimulated.

So you ended up making out until the sun set and you gave him a handjob as well.

The next day was your second to last day before you'd leave and he wanted to try out 69-ing to which you didn't complain about. He had already grown so use to eating you out and did not grow tired of it at all. And he loved hearing your moans, feeling your body shaking.

So he couldn't complain either.

That same day he had the brilliant idea of trying to eat you out underwater, you told him he'd actually die if he did that but he claimed he could hold his breath for a while.

Well it felt weird for both parties and he nearly drowned so that wasn't worth it. But you then stroked him while hiding behind a big rock then you got down to your knees so he could cum on your face.

And finally on your last day you sat next to each other and touched each other until you both came at the same time.

Prior to that you were just spending time together for the final time. He wanted you both to cum as the sun set. How romantic.

As you both got up and got dressed you sighed, sad that your little summer fling would come to an end.

And unfortunately never getting the chance to actually have him fuck you. But nothing lasted forever.

So after the final make out session you both pulled away breathless and you felt sad. But also happy it happened at all. And that you got to meet him.

"If it's meant to be I'm sure you'll get to go all the way in the future." You joked making him laugh and smile.

"Hopefully doll, I'm sure you feel absolutely amazing." He murmurs and you slap his arm before shrugging and giving him a sly wink finally walking away to never see him again.

Or so you think.

Your parents ended up giving you the grand surprise that you weren't actually leaving. You were moving to California.

And the reason your sister didn't come was because they actually gave her the house and her boyfriend was going to move in.

Why they didn't think of telling you before? Who knows but now you were gonna be living here and they made you enroll in the nearest university.

Somehow you got in just in time for classes to start to. You didn't have high hopes in seeing Miguel considering he'd told you a couple times he didn't really like university and wasn't really thinking about going back.

And you weren't sure in telling him you weren't going back after all. Especially considering you just had a couple good summer nights together.

So you didn't give it a second thought and just decided that's all it would be. A summer fling.

Not like you had much choice considering you didn't have any way of contacting him anyway.

You ended up going to your first day of uni and met two lovely girls outside who immediately helped you out. Frenchy and Sandy.

They were so sweet and led you to your classes, even having a few with both of them surprisingly.

You ended up having the same schedule layout and you all ended up going to the large dining hall to get something to eat.

You were then introduced to their other three girl friends, Rizzo, Marty, and Jan. Frenchy explained their little group were called the pink ladies which you thought was cute. They all had matching jackets as well.

Suddenly a girl named Patty comes along and the trio roll their eyes and groan. You pretend you don't notice and just take a bite out of the macaroni you got before she sat down next to you and started blabbing about who knows what.

Then Frenchy, a godsend angel, turned to you and asked you how your summer was.

"It was good! Spend most of my time at the beach. Might've met someone there..." you say and Patty beside you giggles but Rizzo just scoffs.

"Laying all your eggs in one basket? For some guy?" She asks and you shrug.

"He was... special." You say and she gives you a fake smile.

"There is no such thing hun." She says and you sigh looking at Patty. "It was so romantic."

On the other end of campus, on some bleachers, the self proclaimed 'T-Birds' were also asking Miguel how his summer went. But he had already told them that he met a girl.

But unlike your reminiscing of the romantic portion of your days together, his friends' immediate thoughts went to the more explicit portion...

"You don't wanna hear all the horny details." Miguel teases and all the guys gather around him yelling at him that they absolutely do.

So you both ended up spilling what you wanted to reveal except you kept your mouth shut on your exhibitions, not wanting to say too much about that.

On the other hand Miguel gave them every dirty detail possible. But for him he couldn't bring himself to tell his friends about the romantic side of how things went.

No way in hell was he going to admit those kinds of feelings in front of the guys. And mostly because they all just fucked around. Even though he knew he felt something besides just when things switched to the dirty side.

And thus you both reminisced on your favorite parts of your time together not knowing you were both on the same campus. Soon enough you'd both run into each other shocked but for now you stayed in your respective friend group.

As you walked out of the dining hall and to your last class Jan asked, "so what was his name?"

"Miguel O'Hara." You replied and her eyes widened as her and Marty burst into giggles but Rizzo smacks them to shut up.

"If you believe in miracles I'm sure Prince Charming will show up again some day. Somewhere unexpected." She says and gives you a smile.

"Think so?" You ask and she nods, grinning ear to ear as the other two girls follow her giggling their heads off.

"Oh you think so Frenchy?" You ask turning to the redhead and she avoids your gaze, awkwardly laughing and grabbing your arm.

She gives Sandy a look before Sandy links with your other arm, "how about we get to class yeah?" She says to you and you nod, questioning what the hell was going on.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

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

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, risky motorcycle ride? (idk nothing bad happens but always wear helmets, friends), some fun flirting & jokes, but mostly ANGST AND PAIN (including explicit descriptions of very intense anxiety at the very end)

words: 12.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 14 ► this isn't over 'til we talk in the light, said i was sober, but you knew that i lied

In the lounge area outside the changing rooms of “013” in Tilburg, Jungkook was engaged in a very intense game of table tennis against Seokjin—and winning, even though Seokjin would have disagreed—when you entered to inform the band that they were going on stage in twenty minutes.

The game wrapped up as the members began to stretch while simultaneously accosting Jimin about their in-ears. There were never any serious issues – Jimin made sure he was the Sound Technician of the Year –  but they enjoyed seeing him panic when everyone started moaning, “could you turn the backtrack up a bit?” or “I literally can’t hear myself.” This last one was Taehyung’s favourite, until Jimin started retorting with, “well, maybe you’re deaf,” and then continuing with his day.

The pre-show ritual was always chaotic, but it was endearing chaos, full of nervous laughter and sparkling eyes as the members of Rated Riot prepared for their performance.

Then, just as Jungkook left the dressing room, putting his own in-ears back in, he turned the corner and almost collided with Sid, who looked more than pleased when Jungkook took a surprised step back.

What an absolute eye-sore, Jungkook thought. As the tour went on, he began to understand your aversion to his friends better.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and it sounded like he wasn’t just asking about Sid being in this room. He was questioning Sid’s constant presence on this tour. Surely, with Jungkook no longer participating in his little games, he had to get bored and go back home.

The past few weeks have taught Jungkook that some friendships had an expiration date, and sometimes stupid bets accelerated that process. He was okay with that now—he realised that holding onto Sid would be much worse than being left alone.

“Just came to wish you luck before the show,” said Sid, who had never genuinely wished anyone luck before. “We’re here if you want to talk.”

Jungkook frowned and glanced at Minjun—who stood further away from the rest of their friends, and rolled his eyes—then he looked back at Sid.

“I’m good,” he said slowly and cautiously as if Sid was a snake that attacked when it sensed defiance.

Just when Jungkook thought he was safe and tried to walk away, Sid’s saccharine voice—the venomous kind—called out, “don’t forget we’re going out racing tonight!”

Jungkook stopped and turned to him again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sid taunted. “This could be your chance to practise riding a rental since it seems like you’re going to lose your bike in five—”

“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Jungkook interrupted. Maybe it was the pre-show adrenaline or maybe he had finally grown tired of Sid’s bullshit, but he added, “I feel sorry for you.”

Sneering because people felt many things for him – mostly contempt – but pity wasn’t one of them, Sid leaned in closer. It was a tactic that Jungkook had already grown immune to, but Sid was a creature of habit.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he hissed, not bothered by the emptiness in Jungkook’s stare. “See you later.”

“You won’t,” Jungkook asserted. “I’m not going out with you. This is all over, including the bet.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. With a very specific sense of justice that no one else in this hallway—or in this world—possessed, he declared, “I get the Katana, then.”

There was something questioning about his tone, however. As if he needed Jungkook’s confirmation that he did indeed lose this bet to Sid.

But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”

Sid threw his head back and scoffed with an exasperation that could have put a two-year-old to shame. “Well, then neither do you!”

“That’s fine,” Jungkook said. “Minjun can keep it.”

As Sid huffed and growled in frustration, Jungkook looked at his friend again. Minjun seemed about ready to interject—he was the one person here who did not want the bike and, in fact, wished it did not exist at all—but Sid finally found his words.

“You think Minjun can—the bike is mine,” he insisted. “I won—”

“Sid, you don’t give two shits about the fucking bike,” Jungkook cut him off, very tired of the repetitive argument. “Get over it.”

The conversation with Taehyung at Hoseok’s party weighed heavily on Jungkook’s mind. He knew he had bigger things to worry about right now—forget losing the bike. He might lose you.

In his usual dignified manner—so, not dignified at all—Sid rolled his eyes and snarled, “I agreed to bet on it, didn’t I? Obviously, I do give a shit.”

“No,” Jungkook said. “You give a shit about winning. But it’s over. We’re not doing this anymore. Deal with it.”

There was a redness on Sid’s face that hadn’t been there before. A week ago, Jungkook would have been excited to see it—it would have certainly meant a point in his favour. Now, he didn’t want to see Sid’s face at all.

“It’s not over,” Sid argued, persistent like a fly that keeps hitting the glass of a window. “There’s still five days left.”

“Five days until what?”

Four heads whipped around to see you standing at the end of the hallway, confused by the snippet of conversation that you’d overheard. You had returned to find Jungkook because the rest of the band was already pacing – or, in Hoseok’s case, doing restless sit-ups – by the side of the stage.

Jungkook, Sid, Jude, and Minjun stared at you with eyes so bright and wide that they could have guided ships off the coast.

You’ve never met four boys who looked more stunned to see you. It was as if you had accidentally stumbled into the latest concert of the Masculine Ritual, Absolutely No Femininity Allowed, God Forbid Someone Who Identifies as Female Enters The Room tour, and they could not believe this was happening.

“Uh,” Jungkook was the first to react as he immediately approached you. “I’ll tell you later. They’re just excited about, uh, London.”

You did the mental calculations while Jungkook gently squeezed your shoulder to turn you around and steer you away from his friends and towards the stage.

The London show really was more or less in five days, so you decided not to question that part. But the quick pace at which Jungkook was pulling you away from the others still unsettled you.

As you turned a corner, you looked back and saw Sid frowning at you, while Minjun—as usual lately—looked like he regretted being born, and Jude—as usual always—was picking his fingernails.

“Is Sid in one of his chaotic moods again?” you asked as you walked—nearly ran, actually, with the way Jungkook was pulling you. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” he assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s just… doing Sid things. You know. Nothing to worry about as long as—well, as long as you don’t get in his way. I have everything under control.”

Your primary goal on this tour was to stay out of Sid’s way as long as he stayed out of yours. But now was not the time to discuss it, because Rated Riot had three minutes until their performance.

“Alright, then,” you said. “Leave me out of it and we’re good.”

Jungkook coughed in response and stopped once you reached the other members of the band. You thought you saw Taehyung raise his eyebrows when Jungkook took his hand off your shoulders, but maybe you were just imagining it.

You turned to the rest of the band, all of whom looked pale and fidgety and unsure.

The speakers had malfunctioned during the soundcheck earlier, so Jimin and Seokjin had to cut it short to fix the problem. Naturally, the disruption of their usual routine made the band anxious. The table tennis match between Seokjin and Jungkook—arguably the most unhinged members of the team when it came to games—had distracted everyone, but now they returned to the unpleasant arms of anxiety.

“Come on,” you said, trying to sound more energetic than you were feeling. “Stop looking like you’re going to get hanged. You’ll do fantastic out there. Go and have fun. And don’t bother coming backstage until you’re drenched and the crowd won’t stop changing your names. I mean it.”

Finally, a small smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he rolled up one of his pant legs—for no reason other than he thought it looked cool. Honestly, it worked for him.

“Why did that last part sound like a threat?” he quipped, standing up straight.

“Because it is,” you replied. When you turned to Jungkook, he had his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still worried about something, but he started to smile as soon as he felt your gaze. You added, “I’ll be out there watching you. Kick some ass.”

You high-fived all four of them and pulled back as the boys erupted battle cries and huddled together before taking the stage.

They were still nervous, but they had you and each other, and there was a room full of people excited to see them perform. This was supposed to be just another day at the office.

Smiling, you headed back to your usual spot by the stage where Luna was chatting with a few girls at the barricade, and Maggie was snapping pictures of the audience nearby.

It occurred to you while standing there, that you were thousands of kilometres away from your house, away from everything familiar. But with Rated Riot on stage, and Luna and Maggie by your side, you felt right at home.

There was nothing you wished more than to stay like this forever.

It was an unwritten law that touring with a rock band was fun, but quickly turned very hectic. Insomnia often became an unwelcome friend—especially for the members of the band who had fashionable bags under their eyes almost every day. But when they were on stage or meeting their fans after the show, they looked alive. They looked happy.

And the more drinks they had after the concert, the more that happiness seemed to grow.

“You know what I think?” Yoongi said on the couch in the dressing room where everyone had gathered after the show. He was tipsy as he swung the green Heineken bottle around, nearly splashing you and Namjoon as you sat on either side of him. “I think next time we’re in Europe, we’ll be performing at Wembley. Stade de France. The fucking Coliseum.”

“And Camp Nou?” you teased.

Yoongi and Namjoon—both avid Barcelona fans—nodded in eager agreement.

“And not as guests at festivals, either,” Yoongi continued. “Headliners.”

You smiled. “I can see that.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s own smile widened. “When we announced our tour, Kerrang! called us ‘The Next Reconnaissance’ on their Instagram.”

You felt an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach at the mention of the other band and turned away from the two boys. You remembered the alternative culture magazine running rampant with the moniker—always “The Next Reconnaissance,” never just Rated Riot.

“I… don’t think you’re the next anything,” you said. “I think you’re you. And being Rated Riot is already amazing.”

Yoongi needed a moment to process your words. For some reason, he had expected you to agree with the nickname. Part of him wanted to be “the next Reconnaissance,” considering how much they had achieved. But you were right.

“I like that,” he said. “That’s good. Yes. We’re Rated Riot. We’ll get Wembley. And Camp Nou.”

“I second that,” Namjoon said, pointing his beer bottle at the other boy. “But, oh, we saw Reconnaissance at Rose Bowl last year, remember? Might be the best concert I’ve ever been to. I know they were in town again before we left for Europe, but I didn’t get to go. It was at a smaller venue anyway, I think. Rose Bowl, though... Stadium shows are something else.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Namjoon over Yoongi’s head. The producer didn’t normally say this much in one breath. He was clearly getting drunk.

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t notice anything wrong. He was likely equally as buzzed. He hummed as he threw his head back and took a large swig of his beer. Then he turned to face you.

“We’ve never opened for a band their size before,” he said. “Do you think we even could? I mean, they’re not The Rolling Stones, but they’re… well…”

He let the sentence falter because he couldn’t find a fitting word, but both you and Namjoon understood.

“Uh, well, who says you can never work with them in the future? I know their manager,” you said, trying to sound uplifting, but quickly catching yourself. You could have made your point without mentioning this. But because the two boys suddenly looked at you as if you’d just said you were Kurt Cobain in your past life, you had to explain, “he’s, uh—he’s Nick Zhou. I worked under him after university.”

“No shit?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows even higher. “Are you still in touch?”

“Not really,” you mumbled, finding yourself in a tough spot. Avoiding the subject now, when you were the one who mentioned Nick, would essentially mean lying to them. You didn’t want to do that. Awkwardly, you admitted, “although, he did, um—he called me a few days ago. Back in Oslo.”

“What?” Namjoon leaned forward to look at you over Yoongi, who stopped drinking his beer, distracted by the conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything? What did he want?”

Suddenly, you regretted finishing your beer before you joined them on the couch.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. He, uh—he wasn’t calling about the band. Or, well, he was, but it wasn’t—okay.” You closed your eyes and took a breath. This was a very long detour to get to the most important sentence. “He said he’s looking for an assistant manager.”

The two boys next to you exchanged a look.

“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because he needs someone quickly and he’s already worked with me before, so—”

“Well, fuck,” Yoongi concluded, cutting off your humble explanation, while Namjoon offered an equally insightful, “wow, shit.”

You nodded – both observations accurate – and quickly added, “I didn’t—I’m not going to do it, though.”

“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”

The hint of surprise in his voice made you uncomfortable. It sounded like the reasonable decision would have been to accept Nick’s offer and leave Rated Riot to work with this much bigger, much more intimidating band.

“I-I guess I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant anymore,” you stammered. “I like running the ship myself.”

The guitarist’s expression softened. But before he could speak, Namjoon slapped his palm on his thigh and cheered so uncharacteristically loudly that you and Yoongi both pulled back from him in surprise.

“I know that’s fucking right!” Namjoon cried out. “Steer us all right and Rated Riot will surpass them. You’ll be calling that guy to get him to be your assistant.”

You laughed at the unexpected proposition, and Yoongi gave your knee a friendly pat.

“We won’t let you down,” he said, much more collected than the boy next to him. “You know?”

“I know.” You were smiling with all the warmth in your chest. “I believe you, that’s why I don’t want to leave. But, uh—would you mind not telling anyone else about this? I don’t want it to, you know, blow out of proportion. It wasn’t even an official offer, really, he just mentioned that there was an opening. But I just… I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t eventually tell any of you.”

Yoongi nodded knowingly. Rated Riot didn’t have a designated leader, since Namjoon—as their main producer—and Seokjin—as their stage manager—called most of the shots, but as the oldest member of the band, Yoongi was typically the one to talk to you about the heavier topics.

“It’s cool,” he said. “As long as you’re staying with us, no one else really needs to know about this, right?”

What he’d just said—paired with the way he looked at you for a few seconds longer than necessary—seemed to imply something else. Your eyes automatically drifted to Jungkook, who was talking to Seokjin and Jimin on the other side of the room.

You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”

Yoongi finished his beer in one swift gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he looked at you again.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said.

You met his gaze. “For what?”

“For believing in us enough to stay.”

Namjoon felt himself smile as he quietly finished his beer. He knew he was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk enough to interrupt the moment between you two.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Here, you turned to Namjoon. “Right?”

Looking at you in surprise after you addressed him, the producer scrambled to nod.

“Oh, hell yeah!” he said, leaning forward to reach Yoongi’s completely empty bottle with his own. “Here’s to Wembley next year.”

You smiled as the older boy clinked his empty bottle against Namjoon’s, then tipped his head back to get the last stubborn drops.

“Oh, by the way,” Yoongi spoke as he swallowed and immediately coughed. “D-did you find out what was going on with Jungkook and his lyrics?”

It took you a minute to recall your last conversation with Yoongi—the one that had led you to Jungkook, where he had dodged your questions and later snuck into your bunk on the tour bus and kissed you.

“Uh, well.” You tugged at the sleeve of your leather jacket. “He said that the song he played you was just a demo. He’s still working on the melody. And he said that he just has someone who reviews his lyrics for him, nothing more.”

Yoongi nodded to the rhythm of an unusually slow Asking Alexandria song that played from the speakers of the dressing room.

“So, we shouldn’t worry?” he asked, clearly hopeful.

“Apparently, no,” you said with an uneasy smile.

“Alright,” he decided. “Then let’s not worry.”

He looked at Namjoon who nodded in support of this decision.

And so, not worrying was exactly what they did. Instead, Namjoon brought three more bottles of Heineken and you all decided to just feel happy tonight.

As you scanned the room with a new bottle in your hand—while the boys finished their beer in under a minute and Namjoon got up again to bring more—it seemed to you that everyone had made the exact same decision.

Except Taehyung for some reason.

For a good minute, you watched him walk in circles in the very centre of the room. Then, just when you thought he’d stopped, he started another lap around the carpet.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you said to the two boys on the couch—they both nodded—and stood up.

A brief, unexpected fight broke out over the bottle of beer that you’d handed them—Namjoon won—and you hesitated for a moment as you realised you had a new problem and weighed it against the previous one.

The new problem was that Yoongi and Namjoon were getting very drunk. It was almost ridiculous, but probably harmless. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting to perform at four more gigs as soon as he left this room. You had to go to him first.

He had noticed the commotion by the couch, but he did not acknowledge your approach.

“Is everything okay?” You had to stop right in front of him to ask as he continued his frenzied pacing. “You’re kind of walking in circles here.”

Taehyung stopped as if in a daze and looked at you. “Hm? Ah. Lots on my mind, I guess.”

You nodded slowly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Uh…” He looked around. The movement seemed thoughtful, but without a clear purpose—it seemed like he was just avoiding your eyes. Then you saw his gaze land on Jungkook. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then turned back to you and scratched the back of his neck in a telltale sign of universal discomfort. He said, “honestly, maybe it’s not me that you should be talking to.”

You glanced at Jungkook, too—he was explaining something to Jimin with very wild hand gestures. He still appeared to be on a high from the concert.

“You mean Jungkook?” you asked, shifting your attention back to Taehyung. “Is he the reason why you’re pacing?”

“Sort of,” the bassist replied, blinking at the carpet.

You didn’t like the trepidation in your stomach. And you definitely didn’t like the unexpected memory of the alarm that you had seen on Jungkook’s face in your hotel room in Amsterdam.

“Why?” you asked because, despite the ominous dread that you were feeling, it was still your responsibility to know what was going on with the band.

“Just talk to him,” Taehyung advised. “But don’t tell him I said so.”

You hesitated, wanting a bit more information before you dived off this cliff headfirst. You asked, “at least tell me if something happened, so I can be prepared.”

He glanced at Jungkook again. This time, the younger member seemed to sense his gaze as he turned around. Taehyung looked away immediately.

He muttered quickly, “ask about his friends,” and then retreated to the very back of the room until he was fully concealed by Hoseok and Maggie.

A reluctant “oh,” passed your lips, but knowing that Jungkook’s friends were involved meant that there was nothing else that Taehyung could have said to you anyway.

You had to go straight to the source.

You couldn’t say this surprised you. You already got an odd feeling when you walked in on Sid and his Asshole Alliance before the concert tonight, but Jungkook had assured you that everything was fine.

However, if this was something that made Taehyung stomp around the room—which never happened unless the situation was extremely stressful, like the time Luna was getting surgery and he almost rubbed off the soles of his shoes, walking back and forth in the waiting room of the clinic—then it most certainly wasn’t fine.

Your original plan was to wait until everyone was back on the tour bus, since you’d be spending the night in Tilburg anyway. But then you remembered all the times you’d asked Jungkook if everything was okay—and all the times he said it was—and you decided that waiting would not cut it this time.

“Hey,” you said right in the middle of his conversation with Jimin. You added an apologetic, “could you excuse us, please?” but Jimin could tell as soon as he looked at you that he’d better leave.

As quickly as it was humanly possible, he nodded and jogged to join Yoongi and Namjoon by the door of the room. The two of them were loudly discussing their plan to go out and find a bar, but they paused after noticing Jimin.

You watched them for a moment, wondering if you should have stopped them from leaving when they were already so drunk, but they noticed you, waved, and left before you could open your mouth.

Sighing, you turned to Jungkook just as he asked, “what’s up?”

He didn’t appear unusual when you looked at him. But he rarely ever did.

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

You were both tired of the question, but Jungkook disliked the sound of it particularly much this time. He’d seen you—out of the corner of his eye—take six steps in his direction right after you finished talking to Taehyung.

What if he’d told you?

“Uh, of course,” Jungkook said, looking at you with just as much confusion—and a sprinkle of suspicion—as you were looking at him with. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your heart rate increased as if you’d already heard the bad news you were expecting to hear. “How are, um—how’s Sid and everyone else?”

Jungkook disliked this question even more.

“Oh,” he said in a relaxed tone that sounded forced even to him. He cleared his throat and scanned the room for the older member, but didn’t find him. Even more nervous now, he turned to you and tried again. “You mean Sid and the others? They—they’re okay. Sid’s just being annoying, but what else is new? But I’m—we’re all okay. Thanks for, uh, for checking in.”

“Of course,” you said. You waited for him to elaborate so you could discover the reason for Taehyung’s anxiety which resulted in two more members of the band that you needed to worry about.

Honestly, Hoseok was the only one who wasn’t playing with your nerves tonight. You saw him peacefully tapping his foot to the music in the room as he chatted with Maggie and a few other staff members.

Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.

“What did you talk about with, uh—with Taehyung?” he asked instead with all the subtlety of a frightened elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Oh, this and that,” you lied. Then, feeling uncomfortable about lying, you scattered a bit of truth in there, “Luna’s face-timing her mum on the bus, so he was—he’s bored.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t think—or didn’t want to think—that Taehyung would tell you about the bet after he asked him not to.

And, really, he tried to be reasonable. If Taehyung had told you, would you be here, peacefully asking him if he was okay?

No. You’d use fists, he presumed. Possibly knees.

“So, there’s nothing you want to tell me?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his masochistic fantasy.

Jungkook swallowed. Whatever it was that you talked about with Taehyung, it was clearly neither this, nor that.

“There is, uh, one thing,” he admitted slowly.

You inhaled. “What is it?”

“What are you plans for the rest of the night?”

This was not what you had braced yourself for. Annoyed by his stalling, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket.

“Well, depending on what you tell me, either I’m arguing with you or going to sleep,” you said. Glancing at the phone in your hand, you added, “it’s two in the morning.”

“We have tomorrow off,” he reminded you. “Well, today, I guess.”

“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”

“That’s only in the evening.”

“Okay.” You looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear the two of you. Not that you were doing anything forbidden—just merely bordering on it. “What are you getting at?”

“You’ve finished all your work for the night, right?” he asked and you nodded apprehensively. He said, “come do something with me.”

Once again, the dilemma that plagued your mind whenever you were with him returned.

The responsible thing to do here would be to, of course, gently suggest going to sleep. There was a long day of travel ahead of you, after all.

However, this could be your chance to determine if there was truly something alarming happening between him and his friends. Not to mention, he clearly still had something to tell you, despite appearing to have lost courage after the strange moment in your hotel room.

And, alright – the truth was, you wanted to do something with him.

“That’s very vague,” you finally said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me,” Jungkook said, gesturing towards the door of the dressing room.

You agreed to follow him to the door but paused before leaving the room.

“I’d like more information,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.

You tried to convince yourself that there was no logical reason for the entire room to be watching you and Jungkook right now, but you still felt phantom eyes all over yourself.

This wasn’t Hoseok’s party. You were still at the concert venue where Jungkook was the performer, and you were the manager.

He noticed your unease. First, he sighed. Then, as if he was compromising, he extended his hand.

“Take my hand,” he said. “And come with me.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant—”

“Come on,” he cut in, waving his hand in front of you. “Less talking, more holding my hand.”

Because your back obstructed the view of his outstretched hand for everyone else in the room, you knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing this. Still, you let out a slow, anxious breath.

“Fine,” you said with exaggerated irritation to emphasise your displeasure about being kept in the dark. Then you took his hand.

As the two of you exited the room, there were ulterior motives firmly set in both of your minds.

You had to find out what was going on.

He had to tell you what was going on.

And Jungkook had a plan here somewhere. He knew he needed to tell you about the bet tonight, especially since you almost found out about it accidentally right before the show. And also because Taehyung looked about ready to start climbing walls.

He had a rough idea of how he’d like to tell you: it had to happen in a beautiful spot that would make up for the awful revelation he was about to make. If not make up for it, then at least make it worth your while.

And he’d done his research—as always. This was the one lesson from your relationship that he hadn’t learned as he continued to strenuously plan everything in the hopes of making it memorable and unique.

“There’s this spot. The Wandelbos,” he said as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the corridor of the venue.

He pronounced the word with relative ease, making you wonder how many times he’d heard it. Then he showed pictures on his phone.

“This looks like a forest,” you commented, stopping to scroll through several photographs of squirrels and autumn trees—which wasn’t easy because he refused to let go of your hand as you held his phone.

“It’s a baroque park,” he clarified. “It’s beautiful, supposedly.”

You handed his phone back to him. “I’m sure it is. But not at two in the morning.”

“The path is star-shaped,” he continued, ignoring your interjection as the two of you kept walking. “And there’s a clearing in the middle with a pond and a bridge and—oh, and it’s only about six kilometres away.”

He held the exit door open, allowing you to walk out into the brisk night air.

Crossing the threshold, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “You want to walk over there?”

Actually, he did. But your question made him pause. “Uh... no?”

You stopped and waited until he walked out into the parking lot, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something behind you.

You ignored that and said, “well, we can’t rent bicycles at this time and—”

“Sorry—hold on for one second,” he stopped you abruptly.

You turned around and followed his gaze until you spotted Minjun by the restaurant across the street. Your lips parted in involuntary surprise, but it wasn’t Minjun’s presence that really startled you. It was the fact that he was leaning against a motorcycle, of all things, and there were two more bikes parked right next to him.

When you looked back at Jungkook, he looked almost relieved.

How wonderful it was, he thought, that Sid was such an insufferable idiot that he would decide to have a drag race in the middle of the Netherlands.

From across the street, the bike Minjun had rented out appeared to be a Kawasaki. Despite Jungkook’s previous bad experiences with the brand—involving a mild concussion and a dented metal fence, which, in his defence, appeared out of nowhere—this gave him an idea immediately.

“Could we go over there? Or maybe you could wait here for a minute?” he asked you while already walking away—and pulling on your hand until you had to let go because you were absolutely not going over there. He promised, “one minute!”

You could tell right away that he’d just found a potential means of transportation.

“Jungkook, that’s probably not a good idea!” you called out as he neared the street.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, forming the shape of a heart with both of his hands as he went.

You cringed as he crossed the street without looking both ways, but fortunately, there weren’t a lot of cars around. Unfortunately, however, you couldn’t hear what he and Minjun talked about due to the distance and the heavy gusts of wind.

You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.

If Jungkook stayed with the band while his friends went out, and now he went over there to borrow some devil-sent motorcycle, then clearly, that had to mean that he finally started to make smart(er) decisions while still being on good terms with his friends.

So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?

“Dude!” Jungkook exclaimed across the street from you when he finally reached Minjun and scared the hell out of him with his shout—he flinched so vehemently that he nearly knocked the bike over. “Whose is this?”

“Uh—mine. We rented bikes for the race,” Minjun explained and glanced at you standing by the exit of the venue. “Sid was about to call you and force you to come with us—”

“I need it,” Jungkook interrupted, choosing to ignore the fact that there wouldn’t have been enough bikes if he had come along.

Minjun turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

“I need to borrow it.”

“Borrow—it’s a rental.” Minjun turned his head to look at the neon green motorcycle. He knew that riding down the city streets with Sid and Jude on rented bikes was already reckless. Subletting the motorcycle to someone else, however, might be equally as stupid. “It’s in my name.”

“It’s the least you can do for me,” Jungkook said right away as if he had planned this in advance instead of only noticing Minjun and the motorcycle a mere two minutes ago.

His words weren’t entirely true, considering that Minjun wasn’t the one who had manipulated him into this mess. But Jungkook was appealing to his conscience—and that thing was eating Minjun alive. You could see it from across the street, even without knowing the reason for it.

Minjun bit his lip, fighting a very unpleasant battle with his own self.

“Okay. Fine,” he conceded, even though he knew very well what Sid would say about his impartiality and about the fact that he’d now have to ride as someone’s passenger—likely Jude’s, because Sid would rather cut his own head off than allow someone else on his bike, even if it was a rental. Hurriedly, Minjun added, “you have to return the bike back by midday tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook replied brightly. “That’s more than enough time.”

“I’ll text you the address of the rental place,” Minjun continued, getting his phone out.

Jungkook kept on nodding. “That’s great. You do that.”

His friend typed a text message and pulled out the keys to the bike from his jacket pocket. He tossed them to Jungkook just as his phone vibrated.

“Don’t wreck it,” Minjun warned. “Or yourself.”

Jungkook grinned, swinging his right leg over the motorcycle and putting the key in the ignition. “I won’t. Thanks again!”

His friend glanced back at the restaurant, suddenly grateful that the take-out was taking so long to prepare. This meant that Sid and Jude wouldn’t notice Minjun giving the bike away—even though they would notice it gone and would probably realise where it went.

Meanwhile, Jungkook revved the engine and turned towards the parking lot of the venue.

The Kawasaki felt unusual underneath him and it made him miss his Katana, but he swallowed the disconcert. Beggars couldn’t be choosers—this was better than nothing in any case.

He stopped right in front of you in the parking lot, switched the engine off, and leaned back from the handlebar to give you a smile.

“So?” He patted the side of the bike. “Ready for a ride?”

You shook your head, disapproving of the cheesy grin on his face, and sunk your teeth into your tongue to resist a smile.

There were numerous—numerous—reasons why you weren’t ready to climb on this bright green monstrosity that must have been visible from any space station above. If not visible, then certainly audible.

“There’s only one helmet,” was the one concern that you chose to voice.

Jungkook hadn’t considered that as he glanced at the helmet, attached to the tail of the bike. He leaned over to unhook it and offered it to you.

“No,” you said before he started to speak. “If anything, you should be the one wearing it. You’re the driver. And the vocalist of a band that’s literally on tour right now. You can’t perform if you get your head snapped off.”

“Can’t perform if I get yours snapped off, either,” he argued. “Put it on. I’ll go slow.”

This was still a safety hazard, and at first, you debated arguing. Then you tried to rationalise.

Jungkook hadn’t had any alcohol after the show—which was very unusual, now that you thought about it. He must have been planning something all along.

Additionally, the streets were mostly empty, except for one car whose driver gaped suspiciously at the many motorcycles on the street, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of them as he drove past.

There was also Minjun across the street, looking as though he was praying that you and Jungkook would drive off quickly.

“Come on,” Jungkook encouraged. You understood his impatience—if Minjun was here, the rest of the Insolent Idiots couldn’t be far behind.

You looked back at the helmet in his hands.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten on a motorcycle with Jungkook, but it had been a while.

He had always been a huge fan of anything that could reach over a hundred in under five seconds, so he’d been riding bikes since before he was legally allowed to. However, the two of you had already broken up when he purchased and restored the Katana that he never stopped talking about—so you’d never ridden with him when he actually owned the vehicle.

It occurred to you suddenly that Jungkook had probably never mentioned his motorcycle since the tour started. You made a mental note to ask him about that later.

Now, you finally took the helmet from him and pushed it over your head. Maybe the most important justification for your decision was this: you’d missed the excited twirling of your heart when he took you for a ride.

The joy that Jungkook felt as he watched you put the helmet on surprised him.

He remembered the first time you struggled to fasten the straps under your chin and managed to graze your skin. Now, listening to you sigh as you squeezed the helmet over your head and tightened the straps without his help, he realised that you hadn’t forgotten. That you were still used to this.

Excited shivers ran across his skin as you climbed on the bike behind him. But he could sense your apprehension—your initial instinct was to hold onto the back of the bike.

“Come on, now. This isn’t your first time,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. “You know I won’t go unless I know you’re holding on tight.”

“I assure you,” you said. Your voice was muffled by the helmet. “I’m holding on tight.”

He clicked his tongue as he turned to face forward again. “I happen to not believe you.”

“Tough.”

“We’ll be here a while, it seems.” He released the handles and leaned back. “Maybe we should see if Sid wants to join us, I’m sure he would love to—”

“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”

You wrapped your hands around his waist but kept your touch light, almost nervous. Grinning, Jungkook reached for your hands and pulled them closer to make sure you had a strong hold.

When he squeezed the clutch, he felt you tighten your arms around him even more. Satisfied that he could feel more of your weight against his back, he finally pressed the starter and pulled the bike off.

He raced down the street—much to Minjun’s relief—at a speed that definitely would have been dangerous for someone without a helmet if there had been other cars around. But the road was empty and there were hardly any turns to make.

And as he sped down these empty streets, you had to admit to yourself that this was, simply, thrilling.

The rapid pace seemed to elevate your insides, forcing you to hold onto Jungkook more tightly as you rested your head against his back and watched the streetlights blur together. The deafening sound of the engine, the dark visor of your helmet, the intoxicating speed, the rough metal underneath your thighs, and the soft leather of the jacket that he was wearing—all of it was absolutely exhilarating.

Jungkook knew—he’d always known—that you would have enjoyed the thrill of a late-night ride far more than a simple walk down the Tilburg streets.

And he was excited to see your silly grin and dilated pupils after you took off the helmet outside of the park. He was almost flustered by your glow—and by the fact that he was the reason why you looked so happy and so overwhelmingly full of life.

He nearly forgot to lock the bike as he looked at you.

But then the sudden memory of why he’d brought you here caught up to him like a painful crash.

“Uh, so,” he turned away, “should we go explore?”

“Might as well,” you joked weakly. Your legs were still a little shaky from the ride. “Since we’re already here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I wouldn’t mind taking another drive,” he said with a more confident smirk—that only grew in size and arrogance when he saw you smile at the suggestion. Then, he looked down and added, “but I also wouldn’t mind just walking and… talking.”

The two of you had done a lot of that—just walking and talking—since the tour started, so agreeing to this felt natural and harmless.

The park was beautiful indeed, just as the pictures on Jungkook’s phone had promised. Granted, walking through it at night when the streetlights were so sparse, provided a layer of eerie uncertainty—but even now, you were mesmerised.

In addition to the bold squirrels, peeking at you through the tree branches—their fur barely noticeable among the dark foliage, but their little beady eyes glistening—you could also see the sky above. You could see all of it, it seemed. And the patterns of the stars were so bright that you found yourself stopping several times, utterly captivated by them.

You regretted not learning the names of constellations—or how to differentiate them—but looking at the night sky was a breathtaking experience regardless.

The sky looked different here. And it felt closer, too. It was something you didn’t believe you could ever get used to, no matter how much you stayed here.

After a short while, you and Jungkook arrived at a pond, and he informed you that this was the very centre of the park.

It reminded you of home in an odd way, even though there weren’t many ponds back home—and none of them looked quite as charming as this one. Yet there was something familiar here, something homely. Even at night, in a park that resembled a forest more than a cosy picnic spot, there was something heartwarming here.

You could have been feeling this way, you supposed, because Jungkook was holding your hand as he guided you down a narrow plank over a dark creek. Without him, the eeriness of spending the night in an old park alone would have been much more noticeable. But with him here, it just felt comfortable. As if you both knew that you were destined to be safe from all harm here.

The stream ran deeper into the forest, and there were several benches scattered in the clearing on either side of the creek. The two of you sat down on one of them and listened to the silence of the trees and the gentle flow of the water.

Remembering suddenly, you spoke up—quietly, mindful not to disrupt the peace of all living things around you. “Did you know that my parents actually had their first date by a creek?”

Jungkook turned to you. He was more comfortable being loud, because he didn’t feel like a guest here. With you there, he sort of felt like the night—and everything that it touched—belonged to him.

“That’s a… very specific location,” he commented.

“Yeah.” You snickered. “There were no creeks in our town, dad took mum to the city where he grew up.”

“Oh, that’s actually nice,” he said, a little surprised. He’d never met your dad, but he knew that ‘nice’ wasn’t the adjective that was usually used in the same sentence as his name. “Was the creek special to him?”

“Not really,” you replied, shattering the romantic image that had already formed in his head. “It was the only pretty place that he could think of at the time. At least that’s what my mum thought.”

Careful, because this was a delicate topic and he didn’t want to come off like he was defending your dad, Jungkook asked, “she never found out if there was, maybe, more to it?”

“She never asked,” you said. “Either way, that date didn’t exactly end well. In the long-term, I mean.”

Jungkook looked down at the dark ground beneath his boots. A few blades of grass poked through the dirt on the shore of the creek.

“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But can you really say that with such certainty? She has two kids. And you’re both pretty great.”

You smiled at this, and it gave him the courage to smile, too.

“Thanks,” you said. “And yeah. I guess you’re right. Some good did come out of it.”

The two of you were quiet for a minute. It was a comfortable minute, too, but only as long as you managed to keep your mind empty.

You succeeded—the memories of the stories that your mum had told you were slowly fading, overtaken by the calming whispers of the trees around you—but he didn’t.

“I never asked—and I don’t want to intrude now, but, uh,” Jungkook started, “from what you’ve told me before, I assumed that your parents got back together at some point, right?”

You nodded with an exhale from somewhere deeper than just your chest.

“Several points, actually,” you said.

Happy that you seemed willing to share this, he encouraged, “yeah?”

“Yeah. She kept taking him back when I was young, and my brother was—well, a baby, essentially,” you said. “Everyone told her not to do it, not even for the kids. They told her to move on, maybe find someone better. My uncle—mum’s brother—protested against this especially much. He had been against their marriage from the very beginning. But my mum loved the guy.”

The smile on your face when you said that last part made Jungkook tense—it contradicted so much with the sadness in your eyes.

“Did he love her back?” he asked.

You were about to respond with a reflexive answer that had been ingrained in you by years and years of your mother screaming about how your father was a good-for-nothing loser, how he could never love anyone other than himself, and plenty of other colourful descriptions that you probably shouldn’t have known at your age at the time. And yet, despite the intensity of her emotions after every break-up, she still took him back. Until one day she didn’t.

And now you had to pause.

“That’s probably a million-dollar question,” you said with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know. Is that awful of me to say? She doesn’t think he did, but she still got back together with him so many times. So maybe he did love her in his own fucked up way. But I-I don’t think someone who loves you is supposed to hurt you like that.”

Jungkook had leaned back as he listened to you and he nearly toppled over backwards at your words.

You were right, of course.

Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “That’s, uh—that’s not awful. That’s sad, I think. Your mum deserves better.”

“She does,” you agreed. “But I understand now that—well, in a way, she is who she is because of all that happened to her. She’s very strong and she cares so much. And the fact that her only flaw is loving people too much, it’s—I don’t know. Lately, that just makes me admire her more. Because she sees the best in people. No one does that these days, everyone’s always afraid to get hurt. But my mum, she’s like—she’s fearless. You know? I genuinely respect that.”

“Even if she really does end up getting hurt?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah. Even then. And maybe that’s the thing,” you said, looking up at the sky again. “I mean, in general. The people we love are the only ones who can hurt us like that. Or, rather, it’s precisely because we love them that it hurts so much.”

“Hmm.”

He wasn’t sure if you were still talking about your parents by the time you reached the last few sentences, but he was too afraid to ask. He couldn’t even look at you as he stayed frozen in the same spot.

“I’m probably not making much sense,” you added with a small, uncertain laugh. “I just meant that it took me a while to understand my mum. Actually, I don’t know if I even fully understand her to this day, but um… I watched her give second chances to people who held the most against her and could hurt her the most. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But she... She knew the risk, she was familiar with heartbreak, and still, she stayed hopeful. For a long time, I resented that. I thought that was a—a weakness. It sounds cruel. But I thought I could never do that.”

You paused again. The memories—of more than just your parents—flashed in your mind a little too quickly for you to collect your thoughts. You looked down to compose yourself and felt Jungkook’s hesitant glance.

Finally, you finished, “all these years of watching the back-and-forth between my parents… It made me think that I could never give someone a second chance.”

Digging into the dirt with the heel of his boot, Jungkook asked, “you, uh… you don’t think so anymore?”

He glanced at you once more and then looked away again, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the creek in front of you.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment. “I think I’m less decided about it now. I admire my mum for having the courage for it, even though it rarely ever works out. And now I guess I think that it is more of a case-by-case kind of thing. It depends on the person.”

Feeling as if his chest had absorbed the water from the pond and everything inside of him was being flooded, Jungkook didn’t dare to inhale.

Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”

“You?” you echoed awkwardly. He gave the smallest of nods in response.

You realised quickly that you hadn’t said this to him in over four years, and it felt terrifying to admit it now with the solemn trees, a hurried creek, and curious squirrels for an audience.

“Well, fuck.” You swallowed. “I mean, I love you. You know?” You chuckled to hide your unease and leaned down to touch the blades of grass growing under the bench. “Too much for my own good, probably.”

Jungkook suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked up instead, but only caught a glimpse of the stars in the sky before he closed his eyes. The view behind his eyelids felt more special to him than the shimmering sky above—it was all darkness and dim echoes of you saying you loved him.

He couldn’t tell you now. How could he? You loved him.

And a second chance with you was all he’d ever wanted.

When he opened his eyes again, you were watching him. There was a haziness in your eyes—from the starry night, from the motorcycle drive, from the long overdue confession—and a small smile on your lips.

The moment that his eyes drifted to your lips, he felt himself inhale—more than once and he would have floated away—before he leaned in, responding to everything you’d said with a kiss.

He’d tell you about the bet, he would—but not now. Not when he felt your breath hitch as his lips touched yours. Not when you kissed him back, replacing all air in his lungs with your taste.

Right now, neither of you needed to say any other word as the forest around you settled. The leaves were frozen as if the wind didn’t dare to rustle them for fear of interrupting you.

The thought made you smile into the kiss—what a self-centred way to interpret your surroundings—and Jungkook pulled you closer.

For a minute, he made it feel like the world really did stop turning for the two of you. Like the forces of the universe had interfered to—

He pulled away all of a sudden, breathing so heavily that he was nearly hyperventilating.

He couldn’t do this. He’d already done too much.

The time that he’d borrowed—that he’d stolen—to be with you in peace had run out. Not even the universe could give it back to him.

“I’m sorry. There’s just, um,” he began, looking down and bringing a hesitant finger over his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You felt your heart skip over a beat.

Immediately, you found yourself returning to the hotel room in Amsterdam. It felt vastly different now and the difference sobered you up—you had been in your hotel room then, but you were alone in an empty park tonight. And you realised that discussing it here would be a mistake.

Whatever he was about to tell you might make it difficult for you to stay here and you would have no way to leave.

“Wait,” you said. The word caught him off guard. “Tell me when we get back.”

He blinked. The very reason why he’d brought you here was to tell you the truth in a place that was yours for the night.

“W-why?” he asked.

“It’s not fair to me otherwise,” you said. Your heart had shifted from pleasant pounding to near-panicked banging, and you were starting to feel nauseous. “I’d be very inconvenienced if I was left here alone.”

Jungkook appeared even more perplexed. “Why would you be—I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.”

“That’s assuming I don’t kill you after you tell me what you’re about to tell me,” you tried to joke. There was a small—almost desperate—smirk on the corner of your lips.

Jungkook looked away.

“Oh.” Nervously, he licked his lips. He hadn’t considered you being so uncomfortable after he told you that you wouldn’t want him around. And now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “Well, that’s, uh… that’s fair enough. Should we—do you want to go back?”

The dread in your stomach seemed to grow at this question.

You knew that you had to be aware of what was happening with him, but the ceremony of it—the trip to this beautiful spot and the kiss that unintentionally coaxed him into the truth—scared you.

You wanted to resist the rational parts of your mind and stay here, where you had just forbidden him from speaking about this.

“Not really,” you admitted.

Jungkook nodded, relieved by your honesty. “Me neither.”

So, you stayed still for another minute. Then another minute. And another one. Until all the additional time you’d given yourselves had run out, too.

You peeked at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, afraid suddenly that he would look back at you and then you’d have to talk, after all.

He seemed very far away. Much further than that first night in Amsterdam, when he came to your hotel room to talk.

Now there were sirens blaring in his head and a relentless pounding in his chest. You could almost hear it when you looked at him.

At last, you said, “but we can’t stay here forever.”

Despite looking like he had drifted into another realm deep inside of his mind, Jungkook sighed. He’d been listening to you breathe, listening to the way the wind played with your hair. He was here.

But he really wished he wasn’t.

“I know,” he said.

Still, the two of you remained on the bench for another five minutes, surrounded by the quiet rustling of the weary trees. Even they seemed anxious for you.

This might be the last silence the two of you would share, Jungkook thought grimly.

He felt terrified.

Finally, he took a breath and turned to you. “Let’s—”

A faint buzzing from the back pocket of your jeans startled you both. The sound seemed so foreign here, like something that had travelled across time and space, and accidentally ended up here—in your universe, where it didn’t belong.

You pulled out your phone and saw, first of all, that it was four in the morning, and then that Namjoon was calling you.

“I should take this,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the tension that had left your hands very cold.

“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.

This was fine, he tried to tell himself while you stepped away from him to answer the call. He would take you back to the truck stop where the tour buses should have been parked by now. And then he would tell you.

And whatever happened next would—

“So, that was Namjoon,” you said, returning to him with your phone in hand. The call had lasted for less than a minute. “Apparently, someone stole Yoongi’s laptop.”

Nearly thrown off balance at the news that sounded somehow disrespectful, considering the many things you already had to process, Jungkook frowned.

“Someone stole Yoongi’s laptop?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said, sliding the phone back into your pocket. You knew something like this would eventually happen. “Namjoon said that he and Yoongi went out for more drinks, and when they got back to the bus, the laptop was gone. They’re not sure when was the last time they saw it.”

Jungkook stood up from the bench. “Well, why do they think someone stole it? Maybe he just lost it.”

“Yoongi’s not the kind who loses things,” you pointed out.

“Well, Namjoon could have lent a hand with that.”

You shook your head to conceal your small, involuntary smile and shrugged, acknowledging that there was a chance that this really was a false alarm. Especially if Namjoon was involved. You all loved him very much, but he had a talent like no one else to consistently misplace his own—and others—belongings.

“They were already quite drunk when I talked to them backstage before leaving,” you said. “So it’s possible they got even more wasted and just lost track of it. Either way, I need to go back and find out what happened.”

You returned to being the band’s manager, and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden switch. He wasn’t sure how to handle anything that was happening. This whole park was spinning around him.

He felt a little bit like the creek behind him as he watched you—flowing somewhere on pure instinct, with no clear destination in sight.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. Hesitantly, he extended his hand for you to take—to help you over the loose wooden plank again. And to ground himself with your touch. “Let’s go, then. We’ll talk later?”

You took his hand. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

The truth was, you did not want to talk later.

You had a terrible feeling about it, and however irresponsible it may have been, you wanted to delay it as much as possible.

When you and Jungkook returned to the truck stop, Yoongi and Namjoon had already figured out where the laptop was. They looked very pleased to have remembered the Locate My Device app, never mind that you were the one who had kindly reminded them about it over the phone.

The laptop was, as it turned out, at a McDonald’s across the city. Neither boy could recall ever going there, so they remained convinced the device had been stolen.

You listened to their hypothesis with a serious face. But, unlike them, you were sober—the few beers you’d had after the concert were long forgotten—and you knew that the “thief” would probably be smart enough not to stop for a McFlurry after stealing someone’s computer.

The logical explanation was that your usually lovable and dependable boys had gotten so drunk that they’d forgotten about the fast food trip and left the laptop there themselves.

Regardless, you had to investigate. Because Yoongi and Namjoon were both pale with terror—and still buzzing from the spontaneous beer-tasting adventure that they’d gone on—it was up to you to find the computer.

You didn’t mind. This was your job, anyway. And you were eager to do something that did not involve talking about whatever it was that Jungkook wanted to talk to you about.

Jungkook, on the other hand, did mind. And it was evident when you exited the bus and saw him standing by the doors, pouting.

“I have to pick up the laptop,” you said, “and maybe report it to the police if it was really stolen.”

“Should I come with you?” he offered, not meaning to give you the option to refuse—which you took, of course.

“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”

“And you don’t?” he countered. “You’re the one who’s so overworked that—”

“Don’t start with that again,” you said, raising a stern hand to cut him off before someone overheard. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes and the expression on your face softened a little.

You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but you’ve had an impossibly long day.

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “This is my job. I have things to do. Laptops to save.”

“If I come, then—”

“Stay here,” you interrupted. “You had a show tonight. Now you have to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Biting his lip as mixed feelings of guilt and regret bubbled in his stomach, he asked, “we’ll, uh—we’ll talk, though. Right?”

“We’ll talk,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”

He fought with himself for another moment and then ended up saying, “okay. You never take me with you anyway.”

You didn’t have time to argue, so you kissed him before you went—quickly, softly, and with a nervous smile as you pulled away—and his heart seemed to leave with you as empty echoes of his racing pulse reverberated through his chest.

Tomorrow was very far away.

That would have been good if Jungkook still felt the paralysing panic from a few days ago. But even though he still felt scared now, he had already braced himself for the emotional consequences of telling you about the bet. Delaying it—against his will, this time—felt excruciating.

He knew he was the one to blame – he kissed you in the park instead of telling you about it right away, and then he agreed to wait until tomorrow.

And maybe this was what he deserved. He should have told you. But he hesitated and tried to convince himself of all sorts of irrational thoughts—and now here he was.

Alone.

And he was so frightened of being alone that he climbed right back on the motorcycle and headed to the address of the rental shop that Minjun had given him. He needed to do something, because he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t scream at the top of his lungs, either.

Easily enough, Jungkook found himself in the bar of a hotel across the street from the rental shop. The shop didn’t open until eight, so he had a little over two hours before he could return the bike. A little over two hours before the night ended and he had to figure out what to do next.

He finished his first glass before a single thought could occur to him. By the second one, he felt his body start to relax, but chaos continued to reign in his mind.

What will I do, what will I do, what will I do?

As Jungkook lost track of how many drinks he had, he pondered every which way to reveal this to you and all the questions that you might ask.

What was the trip to Paris for? And the persistent way he followed you around? The conversation on the bridge in Stockholm? On the rooftop in Oslo? The bicycles in Amsterdam? The nights in your hotel room?

None of that was truly for the bet. But would it matter?

You said you loved him tonight. But you’d hate him tomorrow.

Maybe he could wait for five days until he formally lost the bet. Maybe he should tell you then. Maybe the fact that he lost something important to him would make up for—no.

Jungkook shook his head, nearly spilling the bourbon in his glass. He paused then, not even sure if he was still drinking bourbon. It all just tasted wet to him at that point.

Regardless, he couldn’t tell you after losing the bike. Even losing it didn’t seem like such a tragedy right now, compared to losing you.

While he agonised over it, the bartender continued bringing him drinks—always on the rocks, even though he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The bartender was a kind elderly man, who probably should have known better than to keep serving alcohol to someone at six in the morning, but his experience told him that Jungkook was someone who needed it tonight.

Soon, however, Jungkook’s pride—his high tolerance for alcohol—became his biggest foe. He didn’t even realise how intoxicated he had become.

For all intents and purposes, he believed he was still fairly sober, considering how easily he spilt everything that was bothering him to the bartender. He even understood the advice he received in return—not that there was much to it.

“You have to tell her, son.”

He did have to tell you. He knew that.

And he was going to, he decided. Right now.

Jungkook found his way out of the bar with relative ease. Sure, he forgot that he had driven Minjun’s bike there, but he was able to walk without stumbling much, and that surely had to be an achievement.

Swaying only slightly, he stopped in the lot where the bus was parked and found your contact in his phone. Of course, the many emojis he’d used ensured that your name was the first one on the list, but he still found it easily enough.

Now, he had to admit this: he wasn’t sure if you actually answered his call. But he asked you to please, come outside, and within three minutes, you were standing in front of him.

If he had been aware of how drunk he was, he would have realised that he was screaming, so it didn’t matter if you’d picked up his call or not. You would have heard him anyway.

“What’s going on?” you asked, too confused to feel worried. You’d just returned with Yoongi’s laptop about half an hour ago. You weren’t sure if you’d even fallen asleep before coming outside again. “Are you drunk?”

There was exhaustion in your posture that Jungkook was too drunk to identify. You were very tired of dealing with the problems of drunk people tonight.

When Jungkook spoke, words poured out before he could properly think them through.

“Listen,” he said. His tongue felt oversized in his mouth. “I have to tell you something. I can’t—I should’ve told you this a long time ago. Maybe on the same day. Actually,” he hiccupped, “I never should’ve done this at all, then there would be nothing to tell.”

He hesitated for a moment, because in his mind—which was positively swimming in whiskey—he worried that his words may have caused a misunderstanding. He saw the frown on your face and cut in before you started to speak.

“Actually, no,” he said. “There would be things to tell. Because I like—I really—I like to talk to you. I want to tell you all kinds of things...” he paused here. Shook his head. “But not this. I don’t want to tell you this. But I must.”

He thought he came off very determined here, very confident. Really, he just sounded tired and drunk.

“Jungkook,” you said. “When I said we’ll talk tomorrow, I meant in the morning.”

“It’s—” He hiccupped again. “It’s morning.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course.

“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.

“Well, I can’t wait that long,” he insisted, stomping his foot and throwing himself off-balance. He had to lean against the side of the bus to stay upright.

You could tell that whatever he wanted to tell you was far worse than you expected. He was so drunk that he could barely stand, yet he was as determined as ever to get it all out right now.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. The anxiety that you’d evaded was quick to resurface, and even you felt a little unsteady on your feet.

“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”

Jungkook straightened as much as he could.

A deep inhale, followed by a sharp, rushed exhale.

“I made a bet with Sid that I’d get back together with you.”

Silence came next.

You felt a sinking sensation deep within you as if something—an invisible current—was pulling you under the surface of the water. The ground beneath you swirled in uncertain whirlpools.

“Sid said I couldn’t do it,” Jungkook continued after a moment, his eyes cast low. “And I was—I wanted to prove him wrong. He is wrong. He’s always wrong, he’s such a—anyday. I mean, anyway. T-that’s not—I didn’t—this isn’t making any sense.” He slapped himself on the forehead in newfound frustration and you flinched at the abrupt motion. The slap only made the truck stop start to spin around him. Pressing his hands to his hips, he tried to explain, “I didn’t win or anything. Which you obviously know, since we aren’t back together.”

He laughed sadly here. You narrowed your eyes and felt one of them twitch.

The night was cold, and you clutched your arms tighter around yourself. Your posture was not aggressive—you gazed somewhere past him and you appeared frightened. You looked as if the wind might snatch you and carry you off to a place that he could not reach.

But then your eyes met his and there was a frigid emptiness there that he didn’t recognise. He shrunk into himself when he noticed it.

“I-I bet my bike, so I lost that,” he continued. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to lose it soon. Not on purpose, but Sid won’t fucking let me end the bet—” he cut himself off by inhaling again.

It seemed like there was so much oxygen in his lungs—he kept breathing in as he spoke, but never breathing out.

“That’s not the point,” he finished his thought. “What I wanted to do—to say, I mean—is that I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. Sid got in my head.”

“Sid,” you repeated suddenly. The sharp sound of your voice startled him into looking up. “Got in your head.”

He looked at you for half a heartbeat. Somewhere in the whiskey haze, he could recall his conversation with Taehyung—or someone who resembled Taehyung. Jungkook remembered something about this being his own responsibility.

But then, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who Taehyung even was. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who he was.

“That’s an—that’s… that’s an excuse,” he managed to say. The letter S tasted wrong in his mouth. He clicked his tongue and continued, “he’s always in my head. I should’ve known better. I—I’m so sorry.”

You were breathing heavily, but you weren’t speaking.

He blinked his heavy eyes, each one of his eyelashes like lead.

“I just… I want you to know that everything that happened—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he said, swallowing after a great struggle. All these drinks tonight, and his throat still felt dry. “It was because I am—I really have been in love with you the whole time, and I—but I couldn’t—I can’t ask you to get back together while there’s this bet going on. Not that you’d agree—I just hope that you would—but I... i-it wouldn’t feel fair. It’s so—it’s all so fucking stupid.”

He groaned again and covered his face with his hands for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to tell you and all of it was coming out so quickly that he wasn’t sure he told you anything at all.

“I had to—I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. Then, biting his lip harder than he’d meant to—the metal piercing dug into it painfully—he added, more softly, “I’m really sorry.”

You remained firm in your position and really started to resemble a statue. Contrary to what he expected, you didn’t ask him a single question. You just stared at him without any distinct emotion in your eyes.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Aren’t you,” he said shakily, “going to say anything?”

You finally moved—to inhale, then exhale. All through it, your chin was turned up as you looked at the line of trees in the distance.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you finally said.

It was a sharp knife to his chest, this hollow voice that was supposed to belong to you.

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

None of this mattered.

It was over.

“You’re drunk,” you added then. “Go to sleep.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in your words and he grasped at this flimsy straw and held onto it with all his might.

“Y-you heard me, though, right?” he tried, his voice desperate, eyes watery. “None of it was for the bet, I really—”

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t go to sleep, not if it meant he’d have no one to wake up to.

“Can I—” He coughed, the words catching on the sandpaper in his throat. “Can I talk to you in the morning?”

You stayed silent for a long, almost never-ending minute. Jungkook counted each second in his head, and he knew he might have messed up the numbers at least three times, but it still felt like you’d never speak again.

“I don’t think,” you finally said, “we have anything left to talk about.”

You turned around, but stopped for less than a moment, seemingly hesitating when you heard him call your name. Then you took another step and opened the door of the bus, climbing inside and leaving him here alone.

This wasn’t the first time you walked away from him, but this time, he knew it was his fault.

And there was another element to the suffocating grip around his neck—ever since you began to manage Rated Riot, you’d never left him alone when he was drunk.

But you left him tonight.

And even drunk, he knew what it meant.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. But the sight of your back as you walked away from him, the sound of the bus door as it clicked shut behind you, and the feeling of complete silence around him at the truck stop—it all finally knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs. It made his heart beat faster, ridding his bloodstream of alcohol until all that he felt was pain.

He was not prepared for this. He doubted he ever could have prepared for it.

But he should have known this would happen.

He really fucked up. He ruined everything. It was over.

Hunching over as he tried to inhale but couldn’t, Jungkook pressed his hand to his chest. He felt something pulsating under his fingers, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Someone had emptied out the cavity inside of him where his organs had once been and filled it with rocks.

His vision was white and blurred. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

He felt himself slide over the side of the bus until he hit the floor and smacked his head into the bus wall as violent tremors took over his body. He tried to breathe as he counted the beats of his heart until he couldn’t listen to his pulse whispering the same conclusion to him over and over again.

It was over.

It was over.

It was over.

It was—

His hand dug into the gravel on the ground, then grabbed the front of his shirt and held it in a tight fist. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing worked to stop the relentless judgment from breaching his resistant mind.

He ruined everything. It was over.

Jungkook didn’t know how long he struggled to fill his lungs with something other than the heavy, opaque pain of losing you again.

He didn’t know why he struggled, nothing even mattered anymore.

When he eventually realised that he was still here and you still weren’t, there was an early morning redness in his eyes and on the edges of the sky above him.

Most unusually, the only clear thought in his head was about the bike that he’d told Minjun he would return. Another promise that he had failed to keep as he suddenly remembered abandoning the motorcycle by the bar.

Then he remembered the bar.

He had already drunk half of it.

He struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, and went back to finish the other half.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “what do you want from me?”

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[imaginesig]

“I had the best day with you today”

Based on: “I was enchanted to meet you”

Kimi Antonelli x Norris!Reader

SMAU

Could be read as a stand alone, very short

After dedicating Enchanted to their relationship, who would’ve thought Kimi and Y/n would get to see it live

yn_norris

Liked by carmenmmundt, user71, landonorris, and 917,828 others

yn_norris: “I cry a lot but I am so productive”

tagged: no one

Kimi.antonelli it’s genuinely concerning watching you stress over bracelets and a bodysuit

oscarpiastri im right there with you mate

Yn_norris eras tour prep is not for the week‼️

lilyzniemer especially when you’re making your own stuff

user1 the nods to Midnights/Vigilante shit 🧐 Ms. Norris I think I know your outfit

Carmenmmundt I’m so excited!!

lilymhe we’re gonna have a blast in T-3 days!!

alexandrasaintmleux were all packed up and ready 🫶🫶

user2 all the wags are gonna show up and slay while the men will prod wear some boring ass clothes

yn_norris you best believe Kimi’s gonna slay, I made him a fit so he can’t embarrass me

user2 lmao Y/n

user3 this is so aesthetic i could cry

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Kimi.antonelli posted 2 stories!

Captions: 1) ive been roped into bracelet making 2) did I do good?

Replies:

yn_norris

you did so good

Whoever you trade that to will be so lucky

I need to do more

get to it then

Oscarpiastri

Lily hasn’t gotten to me yet

If she does idk what I’ll even make

Best of luck avoiding it solider

Olliebearman

I wanna join

Don’t worry she’s bringing the materials with us so you can make some at the hotel

yn_norris posted a story!

Caption: I’ve arrived 🫶✨🪩

Kimi.antonelli

liked by user1, taylorswift, Olliebearman, and 817,828 others

Kimi.antonelli: “I was enchanted to meet you” 💜

tagged: yn_norris, Taylorswift

yn_norris I love you 💜🫶

Kimi.antonelli I love you too 💜🫶

user1 THEY WERE AT MY SHOW

user2 ugh i need a concert bf

carlossainz55 @/landonorris after tonight I cannot do the overprotective uncle role anymore, they’re too cute

landonorris MATE WHAT

Kimi.antonelli finally a win

carlossainz55 but hurt her even a little…

Kimi.antonelli I understand

Taylorswift THE Enchanted couple

Kimi.antonelli what a compliment

yn_norris I’ve fallen to the floor and started violently sobbing

Landonorris L

user3 did you trade your bracelet??

user4 the fact that this whole post is centered around Y/n 🥹🥰

user5 drivers (+ their so) really brought the best energy

User6 do you think Travis felt more at ease bc he wasn’t surrounded by other celebrities but rather other male athletes?

user7 I wanna know if him and Logan talked American football

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Yn_norris

Liked by taylorswift, Lilymhe, landonorris, and 182,928 others

Yn_norris: “I had the best day with you today” 💛

tagged: Kimi.antonelli, lilyzniemer, carmenmmundt, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux

Kimi.antonelli you looked so beautiful in the concert lights 💛

yn_norris ditto 💛

user2 LMAO THEIR OUTFITS

user1 the fact Kimi and Y/n matched the hearts to the lyrics album for both posts makes me sick

lilymhe it was so fun!!

carmenmmdunt gorgeous

lilyzniemer you win best couple costume!!

landonorris after seeing Vigilante Shit I have decided that your outfits are way to inappropriate and therefore I hate them

yn_norris too late 😚

taylorswift best outfits! Best energy! Best fan! Y/n I love you 🫶🪩

yn_norris you’re the best everything!! I love you too 🫶🪩

yn_norris HOLY SHIT SHE FOLLOWED ME AHHHHHHH

user3 she’s just like me fr

ussr4 her bracelet collection 😭😭

user5 people have said she wore them the whole time

Yn_norris well what was I supposed to do? Not show off all of my new besties and their hard work??

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