#ik he was twisting and turning internally for a year

[bluesidez]

Miguel:

Pierced Perfection ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Content: Breast play and fondling, Miguel goes crazy over your nipple piercing, leg humping, MINORS DNI!

A/N: Thought about nip piercings which turned into thinking about how Miguel would react to them so here we are. Enjoy!

“Baby, can you come here for a sec?”

Miguel came into the bathroom at your call, “Yeah?” He noticed you covering up your chest with your robe and his brows lowered, “What's wrong? You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You reassured him with a smile, “I have a surprise for you.” He gazed at you in question, watching you open your robe.

Two red stones caught his eyes, dangling from a silver ring that enclosed around your nipples. The piercing fit perfectly on your body, as if it was made for you. Miguel couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Wow. They look great.” He got closer, “When did you get them?”

“Around noon.”

You had discussed the idea a few times about getting nipple piercings. A couple of designs on the internet caught your eye and you thought it would be a good idea to get one. Your husband liked the idea as well. The two of you did research on the healing process, understanding that it could take up to 6 - 12 months for you to heal. In some people's experiences, it was much longer. Almost 2 years. You were a little worried about that, unsure how your body was going to react. But you wanted them. So you got them.

“It's just been tingling a little but it's not so bad so far.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed again, “Tingling is okay, right?”

“Yes.” You provided a pat on his shoulder for more reassurance, “The artist told me that's normal and it shouldn't take too long to go away.”

He nodded at that, eyes still going back to your exposed chest. Miguel’s hand twitching at the idea of wanting to touch them. Your breasts were one of his favorite parts of your body and you couldn't help but have a twinge of guilt at the unexpected surprise.

“I'm sorry. I should've told you when I was going to get them.” Your lips formed a pout, “So you could prepare.”

“No, it's okay.” It was his turn to reassure you with his gentle hands on your arms, “It's not the end of the world that I can't touch them-”

“Well, you can touch. Just not right now.” You clarified, “You can’t suck on them now though.”

“Oh.” Miguel took a moment before clearing his throat, “I'll be fine. I can give more attention to other parts of your body.” You smirked when his hand squeezed your ass cheek.

Miguel stayed true to his word, not providing any additional stimulation by mouth or touch while you were healing. Your man had amazing self control, even when it came to sex. He tried to stay away from making contact with your breasts. Not wanting to hurt you. If he was really feigning for them, he'd place his head between the valley of your chest. Warm tongue licking up the crevice, causing you to shiver.

You knew he truly liked them by the way he stared with fascination. Crimson eyes reflecting back at the jewelry with a semblance of similarity. How a distinct feature of him was also on you. It was a little embarrassing when he asked for a picture of your breasts. His reasoning was so he could look at them while he was at work. You were no stranger to taking pictures like that and sending it to him. But somehow your mind created a scenario of an innocent spider coming in to see your unseemingly naughty picture on display.

It was a big day when Miguel found out he could finally touch them.

You were extra careful in cleaning your piercings, knowing you were going to clean them again once your husband finished fondling. He placed you on the counter in your bathroom, your shirt pulled up above your chest. No bra as you were still trying to get used to your nipples brushing against the padding. They've been extra sensitive since the procedure. But you also haven't been touched like this for 4 months.

“Be gentle.” You warned, “I'm still a little…”

“I got you.” Miguel kissed the top of your breast. As a test, he motioned his thumb against the jewel. That simple motion causing shockwaves throughout your body. You bit your lip, already missing the feeling. He did it again with your other breast and you sighed in bliss. “You okay?”

You hummed, “Feels good.”

Miguel grinned, placing his palm against your nipple, creating a gentle circle. You gripped his shoulder to keep steady. Low moans escaping your lips from his touch. He stood in between your legs, watched you whine and whimper for him. While his hands carefully rubbed you. The large palm hitting a right spot on your nipples that made you squeeze your thighs around his waist. He silenced you with a kiss, drinking up your sounds of pleasure underneath him.

You pushed your chest against him, begging for more under his hold. Only for him to pull away, tugging against your bottom lip.

“They feel nice.” His voice low, eyes filled with lust.

You leaned forward again for more but he dodged your advances, chuckling. You purse your lips, hunger in your eyes. “Just nice?”

Miguel flicked your nipple, causing you to tremble, “Just nice.”

You wondered if you made a mistake in getting your piercings. Because your husband was very touchy. Even though he couldn't taste you yet, he loved playing with your breasts. Running his fingers over your erected nipples casually. Gently pinching them. Teasingly flicking the jewelry. He'd always ask if he could touch them, still considering himself as being a gentleman. Who loved playing with your boobs.

He was going to be ecstatic when he found out he could taste them.

You were feeling great one day. Your nipples healed up nicely after almost a year. You thought it would be the perfect time for Miguel to place his mouth on you. And you were also going to clean it later to be sure.

If he had a tail, you would see it wagging. His eyes lit up when you told him on a call he could finally place his mouth on them. Whenever he was ready to do so.

That meant now as he portaled back home, hovering over your body in bed. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute.” You sat up, holding in your laughter. “Don't you still have work?”

Miguel sucked his teeth, “It's not important right now.” He got on his knees, hands gripping your sides. Desperation clouding his eyes. “Let me taste.”

How could you say no to that?

You pulled up your shirt to tease but your husband demanded to take it off completely. So he could have room. Your heartbeat picked up in your chest, practically heard in your ears. Miguel licking his lips in anticipation. You closed your eyes as you felt his breath against your breast, gripping the sheets to stable yourself.

A whimper escaped when Miguel's tongue flat against your nipple. Done in a way where the tip swirled around your ring, sending sensations throughout your body.

“Finally…” He groaned while sucking on your nipple with care, “I missed this.”

A firm hand rested on your back before pulling you closer. Miguel provided extra care to your nipple, practically almost putting your entire breast in his mouth. He moaned as if he starved. Wanting to keep you there as he finally got what he was denied for almost a year.

Your whimpers turned into full out sounds of pleasure as his fingers twirled your other nipple, his nail scratching along your areola. He kept you in place, making sure you never wandered off far. Your husband was still in his suit as you felt the material against your leg. While in his pursuit of tasting you, you felt his hard cock. Hips grinding slowly against your leg. Muted groans along your breast.

“Tan bueno (So good)…” He muttered, “Sabes tanto (You taste so)…”

Miguel rutted against you, his tongue and lips taking turns messing with your nipples. His hard thrusts shook the end of the bed. Causing you to hold on to his body. Your hand deep into his curls while the other was on his shoulder. Gripping him tight as he continued. Grunting and groaning before suddenly stilling. He was cumming against your leg.

His mouth parted against your nipple as he came. Those crimson eyes rolling back in his head. And all you could do was watch. Tug against the strands of his hair to prolong his orgasm.

“You really missed them, huh?” You asked when he calmed down, his face still buried between your breasts. Panting against them. All Miguel did was nod, hugging you tight.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[giyyuzz]

GAME OVER

[ chapter 10. attack! ] (wc. 0.4k)

your stomach was spinning nonstop and you felt like throwing up.

you were still angry, and sad too, about your recent fight with rei and you hadn't even been able to process it properly because your friends had come to the study session you had been planning for a while.

your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard the doorbell, you knew it was the two of them.

when you opened the door they both had the same expression directed towards you. hate and annoyance.

you felt small and wanted to close the door in their faces.

it's been years since you've seen riki from so close. right, he used to pass by here often because after all he was jungwon's best friend, but you hadn't seen his face for a long time. he changed and now he was much taller.

but you doubted that his annoying personality had changed.

the atmosphere between you was so tense that it could be broken even with a small pin.

you only focused on the person next to him "rei-"

"don't fucking talk to me." her words managed to cross your chest, you just wanted to apologize but maybe what you said had been more serious than you thought.

you closed your mouth in embarrassment and moved to the side to let them pass, but before rei was too far from you you managed to grab her arm, internally begging her to listen.

"please let me talk to you."

"what are you doing!?" she abruptly let go of your grip managing to hit your hand, the look that riki gave you made you feel embarrassed and you could feel the tears wanting to come out of your eyes "i told you not to talk to me, i only came here for the others."

riki felt bad for you and felt the need to intervene, he wondered what happened between you but quickly all those thoughts left his head when he saw rei.

besides, knowing you he thought you deserved it.

rei simply walked over to riki clinging to him and hugging his arm. you noticed how his cheeks and ears turned red.

when they disappeared going to your room you let the first tears fall.

"hey are you okay? what happened?" jeongin came out of the kitchen and walked over to you, hugging you tightly, letting you find comfort in his arms.

jungwon went downstairs to get a glass of water, but he stopped his steps when he saw you. his heart twists and he goes back to his room trying not to make any noise. it wasn't the first time that he felt out of place, you two always left him out and sometimes he wondered if you three were really siblings, because it didn't feel that way.

and riki saw all that.

ꏍ you and riki start playing together through "darkmoon" a virtual reality game, you keep bothering him just for fun and you don't think anything bad is gonna happen, but riki doesn't know that "naoreiz" is you, someone he hates, so what happens when he actually thinks you're rei, your best friend?

note. ik this is not the best but next chapter is written too me thinks soo

taglist [open!]. @soobnny @ja4hyvn @yizhoutv @heejaies @jungwoniics @soobin-chois @w3bqrl @chwexu @moonsluvr @stayriki @hakuyeo @de0nu @heesplanet @sunbokie @acciomylove @ily-cuz-i @bbeomgyucafe @svttigerdeul @ahnneyong @maiwon @mitsukifilms @lunaflvms @yvesismywife @rikisnuggie @emwonx @hyukaas @niocity @kaimal @squiishymeow @fairycheol @missmadwoman @jakeyuni @luviesbi @penghoonz @emobeomgyu @enhacolor @jakesim-p @ifsfleur @yuakagi @heesunki @yerive @vantxx95 @cosmiclele @dokyeomsy @cwsana @amakumos @beomsun @thinkabtriki @anik-4 @peachy-yabbay @deeznutsriki

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[midnight-in-town]

1. I don't know about you but when do you think that Bards backstory will end? It's driving me insane that that it would drag on like that. Maybe yana toboso has a reason for that maybe to do that as the manga is almost at the end and the murderers would be revealed (I don't know really). I'm seriously hoping that Bard won't chose to sacrifice his life in the war hospital just because of the love for Ada though I understand about that fully..Lau would just kill him anyway with everyone else if Bard refused.

2. Why would people hate on Elizabeth Midford so much because of the way she is? It's not right..I get that the personality of hers is annoying in the anime and manga but she's human..she has the right to behave how she wants and the one thing that people don't realise is that when that..time in the Blue Memory arc when she was taken home and Edward asked that why she didn't say anything..she didn't know what to do..and of course it's heartbreaking.

3. Do you think that Elizabeth's parents might reveal to Elizabeth that RealCiel has mental health problems or emotional trauma...and that's why he's scared of strong woman or something (we might not see Lizzie until next year in the chapters is the reason maybe) ..the reason why I'm asking this is because usually in T.V anime series and manga a character often had emotional trauma or serious trauma that a author often doesn't reveal to the audience until later of something...? You heard of fairy tail right (if you haven't than you should..it's really good) (Loke hated key users because he was abused by one and when he heard about Lucy being a key holder..it haunted him because of that because he believed that he caused the death of his pervious key holder).

4. Do you think that if Yana toboso would include it..maybe a talk between Elizabeth Midford and OurCiel of the explanation of why he would lie to her for three years and an apology..wouldn't that make Elizabeth less mad with OurCiel.

5. Do you think that Elizabeth would ever be the same again after the Blue Memory arc? I don't think so..I have a nasty feeling that RealCiel twisted the truth a little to Elizabeth by making OurCiel seem like the bad guy for 6 months but..it's up to Yana toboso how to do it..

Hello Anon! To answer your questions:

#1 I’d say we’re mid-to-end flashback, approximately. 

Bard will find out about the nature of Ciel’s work as the Watchdog and thus his own mission amongst his household. Once he accepts his new place, he’ll remember what Ciel trusted him to do with Ada’s sanatorium and we will move on with the present and with whether the people there get destroyed with the sanatorium or not.

I do admit that I always have my doubts about Lau stabbing Ciel in the back so, while I see no reason for Lau to kill Bard or for Bard to sacrifice himself for Ada’s place (if anything it would weaken Ciel’s strategy and Lau has for now no reason to see him lose), I do think Ronald’s presence is bad news. Could be that Lau will get his way (as he often does, like with the curry or the murders at manor arcs) and many people will die (Ada at least most ikely will, tbh), or could be primarily a matter of investigation. We shall see!

As for the slow pace, here’s my take [x][x] on Yana’s possible issue. 

#2 Because she’s a girl. I’m not even kidding, it’s called internalized misogyny.

Everyone has a right to an opinion (yourself call her annoying, for example), but a lot of people who actually dislike her tend to disregard her personal path, as well as her motivations, when I find she has more narrative presence than most characters of the cast. You can visit her tag for my opinion about her character development.  

Currently, she’s feeling very guilty...

...so it’ll take some help (probably from her mother, but maybe not only) for her to find the strength to confront real!Ciel, but it’s my opinion that she’ll manage. :3

#3 I doubt anyone in the family knows just how emotionally abusive real!Ciel can turn out to be. Not even UT or our!Ciel. 

Considering ideas such as the RCMT or the Munchausen by proxy theories, it’s hard for anyone in the twins’ family to even imagine that one of them could possibly turn out to be such a threat to themselves. 

In fact, Tanaka is possibly the only one who might have a clue...

...but it’s not certain either and, even if he does, I’d say the only person he would have possibly confided into would be Frances [x][x]. 

However, if Tanaka and Frances were to say anything about real!Ciel’s true personality later in this arc, I’d say the most likely candidate would be our!Ciel first. To warn him of the actual danger, since UT is probably blind to the issue. 

#4 and #5 Liz is not mad with Ciel, she feels guilty about her place in the twins’ conflict: this is clearly what ch144 shows. 

But yes, I think these two will eventually talk, once this arc is (nearly) over. If they can manage to speak about this arc openhearted, then I think both of them will feel better... that is until Lizzie later finds out about Ciel selling his soul to Sebastian. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Poor girl still has a tough road ahead, but that leaves a lot of room for heartbreaking character development. 

I hope it answers your questions. Have a nice day Anon!

[envysparkler]

I posted 256 times in 2021

234 posts created (91%)

22 posts reblogged (9%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 444 tags in 2021

#envy answers - 231 posts

#whumptober2021 - 68 posts

#compliment - 32 posts

#ask game - 27 posts

#my snippets - 23 posts

#my fic - 18 posts

#faqs - 18 posts

#greenie - 11 posts

#headcanon - 9 posts

#fic finder - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#kinda difficult to run a gang when batman is hovering over your shoulder and telling you you're grounded

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I was juuuust reading Batcellanea chp138 - was in the middle of the part where Bruce's internal monologue was telling him he should keep Jason and he can take care of Jason, when it hits me : the voice in Bruce's head reminds me of Venom and lmao what if its like Venom but instead of killing people it just maliciously whispers at Bruce to keep adopting kids.

Thats it. That's the comment that I got on tumblr at 12.30am for. Cheers.

Oh my god. Yes. Some villain infects Batman with a parasite to turn him against the rest of Gotham but all it does is make him adopt kids.

Venom: Bruce. Broose. Come on. You know you want to. Bruuuuce. Bruce: he has parents. Venom: we can take care of that.

Venom: BRUCE Bruce: NO Venom: BRUCE Bruce: NO Venom: BRUCE I WANT-- Bruce: he is older than me I said no

Venom, cackling: our little brood goes bigger and brighter, all the little birds roosting in the nest, safe and warm and toasty-- Bruce: you're making it sound like you want to eat them

52 notes • Posted 2021-11-05 11:40:05 GMT

#4

Jason eyeing the league members popping in on his cases just to see he’s still alive: “I am never going to be able to do anything illegal again”

It is very difficult to be a crime lord when the Justice League keeps showing up to coddle you.

This reminds me of one of my ideas of Batman deciding to dismantle the Red Hood's operations by just showing up and acting like a disappointed parent.

54 notes • Posted 2021-09-18 13:52:09 GMT

#3

In response to the Jason being Bruce's biological son: I think there could be some cool and interesting new twists in this. But I still would cling to the Red Hood path. Because the whole idea of Red Hood is just so great. Coming back from the dead and waking up in his grave. Thrown into the Lazarus pit und realizing that his murderer never faced adequate justice is simply genius. Red Hood is an interesting character.

Red Hood is a fascinating character, but giving Jason a chance to live is also good, and seeing who he would've grown up into without the Lazarus Pit. And I can hear Ise shrieking distantly about killing her precious baby Jay.

77 notes • Posted 2021-07-03 19:02:10 GMT

#2

idk but when jay is put in the lazarus pit, it heals his injuries but what it doesn't do is make him tall and muscular. so like he's still the tiny, skinny 15/16 year old he was because of the years of malnourishment. so he goes to gotham at like 17-19 years old, a formidable warrior, but TINY, smaller than dick himself and does the whole drug-lord business + it makes it easier for bruce + dick to work out who he is of course. this probably doesnt make any sense- anyway i love your work!! 💖

Oh my god, I am dying, this is a hilarious idea and I love it to pieces. The fearsome Red Hood being this snarky twerp. Tim is taller than him which is the real reason Jason is determined to end him.

Bruce, seeing a criminal in a red hoodie take on guys twice as big as him: why does this feel familiar?

117 notes • Posted 2021-11-09 13:19:46 GMT

#1

ik you said it’s buried in your idea pile but i am very excited about the possibility of seeing a red hood vs the justice league face off !!!

For context, this is the table of contents of my idea doc.

Definitely not getting around to it any time soon, but here's a snippet:

“You’re Batman’s son?” Superman sounded especially pissed, and Wonder Woman’s eyes were narrowed slits. “Since when?”

“Forgotten the adoption party already, Uncle Clark?” Jason spat back, hurt and rage churning inside of him. It led to an easy rejoinder—a reminder that Jason had died in Ethiopia, and all of him didn’t come back, the best parts of him didn’t come back, that Bruce was clinging to a delusion and Jason wasn’t really his son, not anymore—

But Superman was frowning, eyes distant like he was looking through Jason—his eyes focused again, and he inhaled sharply.

Before Nightwing could move, Jason was upright and out of the chair, cold air blasting onto his helmet-less face.

“Jason,” Superman said in a voice of broken glass. Jason blinked—his restraints were gone and he was being squeezed to death by a sobbing alien.

“What—Uncle Clark?” Jason shot a bewildered look at Nightwing as Clark released him—what was happening—but didn’t manage to get out any more words before he was being swept into a another hug, courtesy of an Amazonian. “Ribs—Auntie—still human—”

“My brave bird,” Diana whispered, voice cracking, “You came back to us.”

134 notes • Posted 2021-09-13 11:27:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[percyjacksonfan3]

The Last Olympian Thoughts

So because I have absolutely 0 self-control or restraint when it comes to this series and its characters, and for The Last Olympian in particular, I could not put TLO down. Because of this I figured I couldn’t do the usual photo reaction posts I have been so far, because the spam would just be ridiculous, so I am stealing the idea from @yourstrulytaaay​ to do a masterpost instead. (Adding a Read More cause this got ridiculously long)

Fun fact, TLO came out right after i finished reading the series for the first time so it's the first PJO book i bought  and my only hard cover one for the og series. I checked the year and turns out it was published 2009, which means i was actually 9 when i read the series for the first time. I realize this is not really a fun fact but i thought i was older when I first read the series so it's blowing my mind a little ‘cause now I’m 21 and everything hits different and i still have so much love for this series and the characters Okay onto book thoughts: - i was right that this book is gonna destroy me, the first line alone made me so excited and nostalgic it's ridiculous - I love Rachel and Percy sm tbh. Her being a bit of peace and normalcy in his life without always reminding Percy of who and what he is is so good for him. Just a little escape

- of course by the end of the book that's not the case any more but by the end he's lived his prophecy so he doesn't need it as badly, plus he and Annabeth are solid again - Percy saying Annabeth has been hard to be around lately... Ouch my heart. Luke really is the last thing that keeps them from being together and Percy is so jealous and Annabeth so torn and in pain, i feel so bad for them both

- Beckendorf 🥺🥺 - the telkhine with the Lil Demon lunchbox!! I forgot about him. Percy: 'i left him alive, partly because his lunchbox was cool' is one of my absolute favourite lines tbh - Paul taking Percy crabbing and being imperative in helping Percy kill the giant crab 💖 Paul Blofis is important and deserves the world, okay? - aw Percy, you can't save every demigod bb

- 'i had to fight him eventually. Why not now?... What difference would a week make?' Oh Percy you have no idea - real talk tho, the fact Kronos possessed Luke's body would also mess me tf up. Percy keeps forgetting it's not Luke anymore and yeah, that would be so so hard and confusing af, like what another smart little mind game for Kronos to pull on top of everything else - the fact Percy fights Kronos before getting the Achilles Curse and actually doesn't die within seconds is... Astounding. He kicks him in the chest! And yeah Kronos is weaker and still adjusting to Luke's body, but Percy is having trouble fighting Luke cause they used to be friends - Percy breaks Kronos' time magic!! Like?! Boy is POWERFUL.

- OUCH - honestly Luke, Thalia and Annabeth's family breaking the way it did... Don't talk to me. Poor Annabeth, Luke betrayed them, Thalia joined the Hunters because of Luke's betrayal so she's pretty much AWOL all the time and then Luke dies. Like Rick wtf, my heart can't take it? -Percy and Tyson having each others backs when talking to Poseidon in the underwater palace is the brother-brother relationship we love to see - Percy trying to stick a sand dollar in the vending machines at school 🤦🏻‍♀🤦🏻‍♀ - the whole underwater interaction at Poseidon's palace? Perfection. Awkward family drama and all - Connor falling out of the tree when he sees Percy because he's so excited 😂😂

- 😭💖

- k, ik Clarisse isn't perfect but tbh if i was a child of Ares whose father was disrespected and hated by my fellow campers (ares deserves it but still) and that disrespect trickled down to how the other campers treated ME (which if Percy is reliable here, it obviously does) then i would also be irritated at being used for muscle and nothing else? And just expected to fight with the people who act as if they'd rather not have Ares kids around the rest of the time. Like Clarisse isn't totally wrong - Percy reading the prophecy, seeing he's meant to die and just being like 'i do not see it' and refusing to outright think about it makes me so sad for him - (but it taints every action after and he's super reckless afterwards bc of it- including finally breaking and accepting the Achilles Curse) - (also him taking this as the last straw and finally beginning to show Annabeth how he really feels, cause fuck it, he's dying anyway) - Give me more info about Rachel's backstory and family Rick!! -  how did i forget Percy willingly eats chocolates that taste like cardboard because 'i didnt have anything against cardboard' like sir? Ik Silena didn't want them but still? - 'she'd always been cute, but she was starting to be seriously beautiful' STOP, MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT - Percy staring at Annabeth and forgetting what they're talking about cause hes so distracted 👌🏻

- hmm yeah... For some strange reason.... - i forgot how Percy totally bombs this convo bw them and now want to cry 😭 Annabeth is trying to talk about what's important and Percy, you sweet oblivious man, you're shooting her down without even realizing - love that they're both on the same wavelength tho. Percy two lines before, hmm it's cool to date ppl from other cabins, wonder why im thinking that around Annabeth, my best friend in the world, and then Annabeth a beat later, hmm, let me bring up Silena and Beckendorf and how it's important to be with the people you love when you have the chance, no way Percy will miss this huge hint right? - they're the best - k i honestly forgot Percy full on physically intimidates Leneus like that - luke telling his mom if he ran away the monsters wouldnt get her..i can just imagine luke crying when he says good bye before running away because he thinks it's his fault his mom is like that and he cant take care of and protect her anymore because it's too hard - uh oh now i have angsty pre-lightning thief luke fic inspo... Him, Thalia and Annabeth on the run... The ANGST -  Rick holds absolutely nothing back in this book and i am in pain - HESTIA!! 💖💖🥰 - actual loml - i love that Rick titled this book after her and that he wrote such a great series about the importance of family (biological, found or otherwise) and home, and that he said actually Hestia is the most important bc shes the most humble and keeps the peace and knows when to fight and when to yield and you protect what you love, which is your home - i just... Adore Hestia - Grover! Missed you babes - Hades is so so horrible to Nico, always comparing him to Bianca :/ - but i do love Hades, Persephone and Demeter together they make me laugh - oh god the River Styx - Achilles 🥺 - Annabeth being Percy's lifeline is, and continues to be, A Lot™ - 'my name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth's hand.' LOL Why am i crying? - Like the fact there is no Percy without Annabeth, and that remembering her literally reminded him of who he is in his very soul... It's fine im fine - i won't even get into the parallels of her being his lifeline now and then later when Hera takes his memories but leaves the memory of Annabeth for Percy to fight to get back to (anyone who wants to yell about it with me... Feel free to message) - badass Percy is my fav Percy tbh - him defeating Hades?? Like? Hades is arguably the most powerful god, okay - i feel bad for Nico but if i was Percy I'd do the exact same, Nico, sorry man but this is a high stakes time crunch deal and Nico is literally the only hope of persuading Hades and distracted by his own internal stuff - flashbacks to Luke, Thalia and Annabeth hurt, ow - George and Martha are the best - damn i forgot Hermes full on nearly kills Percy here, yikes - Luke stop cockblocking Percabeth challenge

- i love!! Percy's love for New York!! So much!! - Percy leaving to live in New Rome in HoO is a lie and this is all the proof i need for why - the fact the entire last half of the book is the battle and aftermath... Such great buildup and pacing. All the tricks and twists and battles in this War of Manhattan? I would not take out a thing, Rick, you legend - of course then the final battle in hoo with the gods is what? Two pages? Ugh, don’t talk to me about my hatred for BoO and HoO - 'no detours you two' is still the cutest thing!!! - THE HUNTERS!! Thalia i missed you - good job Percy, you finally spent your sand dollar - Minotaur!! - 'dont i get a kiss for luck? Its kind of a tradition right?' Percy finds out he's gonna die and is out of fucks to give and honestly I support him - also Michael just standing beside these two while they're flirting like umm 👀 👀 while a monster army marches towards them, nbd - Annabeth taking Ethan's knife meant for Percy!!! Cause she just knows his weak spot without him even telling her! They literally invented love - Feral Percy is so scary omg, i love how well Rick incorporates the Achilles Curse in this novel, with the whole heightened weaknesses and stuff ans the parallels to Achilles arrogance being what killed him and Percy's loyalty, fierceness and protective instinct being his own heightened weakness - the fact that Percy is the one who inadvertantly kills Michael Yew tho, I'll never recover from that - the fact Hades offers Maria di Angelo a golden palace by the Styx like how Poseidon offers Sally a palace under the sea tho. Let's talk about that parallel - the entire talk with Prometheus is so so good - not me picturing young Luke hiding in the closet to get away from his mom when she has an 'episode' -i love callbacks in stories and all of the callbacks to the rest of the series in this book make me very happy (medusa, minotaur, the underworld, Rainbow!! My baby!!, Daedalus and more) - Percy summoning a wholeass hurricane against Hyperion - the Party Ponies! They're so chaotic, i love it - Dionysus! 😁 I can't help it, i love him - Percy absolutely losing it when he sees Sally and Paul asleep in the car 🥺 - Rachel telling Percy he's not the hero screws with him so much :( poor bb - although i really really love how Rick wrote this, it's so refreshing to not have one chosen one save the world, but a combination of people - the drakon, Silena and Clarisse make me cry - the Patrochilles references, im not okay - Annabeth giving up on Luke after hearing what he did to Silena and Percy telling her that doesn't make him happy 😭 that whole interaction makes my heart ache - Percy giving Hestia Pandora's pithos 🥺 - and Hades, Nico and the others coming for a final attack is so badass, i love it - listen im glad the og trio were the ones to confront Luke on Olympus but the fact Thalia got so close and then pinned by a statue of HERA makes me so sad. Ik her and Luke were finished and she coped by cutting him off completely and giving up all hope but i would pay money to know what they would have said to each other to say goodbye - Ethan 🥺 - Poseidon joining the fight against Typhon is so cool, such a great scene - 'PEANUT BUTTER!' - Annabeth you brilliant badass you - RIP Luke, you werent great but you werent the worst either - the gods just rolling up seconds too late, wondering wtf happened in Olympus and who the dead body is - the chapter where the Olympians meet and give out rewards is one of my absolute favourites (again i am incensed we didn't get anything like this in HoO) - will Percy turning down immortality ever not make me scream in glee? No? Alright then - Annabeth being relieved like Percy was relieved at the end of Titan's Curse tho - oh Hermes :/ - its so hard reading all this and knowing what comes in HoO... Like it's such a cathartic, earned and mostly happy and peaceful ending and then HoO comes along and undermines it all - aww Rick let Paul see Olympus somehow pls, he deserves it, he killed a dracanae - (i would also love to see it) - Percy being more upset Rachel took his pegasus than her going to Camp and possibly dying, lol, priorities dude - i honestly think that Rick had other ideas for the second Great Prophecy and how things would go down in BoO, cause the prophecy like... Barely applies to BoO, Doors of Death are in book four, and explabations of it is all so unclear when Rick is usually pretty good with that stuff - PERCABETH - lol Percy complaining about privacy when he and Annabeth are caught kissing literally in the middle of the very open and public dining pavilion, okay - BEST UNDERWATER KISS OF ALL TIME - that's it and im a glass case of emotion - very happy to say that this series remains my favourite of all time 💖

 If anyone ever wants to come gush about anything Riordanverse related feel free, because as you can see I have a lot of thoughts about it all

[screechingtrashcalzonewombat]

"Apopalictic Astral Asending" Reavaluate disassociate my self worth...

The galaxies have birthed an uncontrollable being ....

I've feel as tho Ive seen myself split in two ..

Witch side do u wanna see if ur lucky I'll let you choose .

Cause in the end I loose..

One of hate one of love could both be from up above..

Or down below ...

I've began to show signs of delusions as half my mind goes an tells me it's only mild confusion. As my body fights my brain an heart to escape theys terrible illusions.

Yet the other half tries to start a fusion of body an mind an all the suddently my thoughts are no longer mine..

But a evil so Divine that its wound it's way threw time itself I've fealt the damage the energy dealt. I've yelped in anquish an pain been stuck for 7 long years in the rain with nothing to gain .. I can barely fathom to explain im not fully on earth I'm on another astral plane but i fear i flew out of my lane I've gone insane never wanted fame Ever fealt like bat man I mean oops Bruce Wayne. Nah fuck hes spoiled a wet rat infact I'm more like hulk duck when I'm near i wearly see I'm drowning inside my mind but no one can hear my dear I fear I've lost control again but cant compute I've been booted out of the system I've clawed hit an kicked to try to get to the top but i outta of known I've been ripped an thrown from my throne ive been shown what this beast can do but who woulda thought a demon bought my soul ..a jackal a goul.....you'll see me shift into numbness I suposse it was my own dumbness for being to open now cause of me my body an mind are broken an stole. as I weep an shutter an i try to speak but only stutter I found myself weak in defeat ....as ik this demon reaching its peak will plunder an pillage the town I've found I'm bound to this beast nowhere to run not north south or east I can run it will feast on my soul until the end of time ..

For diamonds cannot compare to the rarity of a soul nor a bowl of Ruby's an jems rolled in gold .....

A bold statement you say........

.. theres no ray of light here they stole it away buried it in your mind but how can u define being locked trapped in yourself ...

You've dealt your own fate ...

Wanting ansers u dint deserve ..

Did you like your just dessert's...no?

Dose it hurt ..... After you itll kill children's childhood freinds like bernie & eart ....whent bizzirk an bashed there brains makeing bloody rains

curking on everyone with cutlery forks an knifes* slice *cook big bird with chives after I've shanked him 900 times... 100 more woulda been devine serve him drink to dry alone cooked an ripped him to the bone but not quite alone u may not be home inside but u can still watch...I thought I taught u better than to close ur eyes dont beg or look surprised look away an I'll adopt another stray to do the same a slow sweet death cure's my hunger anyway

.the wines innocents blood bitter sweet to the taste of the tounge

no one thought it capable I seemed...looked ...so young..

They dint know it had just begun it wasn't me but the evil half committing crime with glee an fleeing repetavidly revealingly images to my mind of times & crimes so sickening I thought I'd die forever scetched seered into my mind .binded with no power as one towers over you using your power you cowar for how dose one define the disasbalment of there an every defined mind while ur inner demon dines on flesh making a mess of your vessel you cant even wrestle your way to the light to stay only break down in defeat that your so far away you've became an internal mess cant even stand on ur feet the beast has u chained in defeat u cry an apologize looking for answers as of how to stop.....an then...you hear a voice .." you outta stayed silent instead of talk back. U shouldn't of complained do u still think ur life used to be pain...... . Ur a sack of shit ur wit is less than that of an ant not to rant but I'm not done yet I have ur soul now I'm never letting go no no no I have plenty more so much to show many souls to reap an emotions to subdue after all u said yes.....

...did you forget ur the one who started this.

mess ......you dressed your mind with fantasy an fiction word to the wise never mess with other worldly friction an your itching for a way out but I doubt ull get there before the end of time .after all you had a devil an an angel on ur shoulder an you chose wrong this time. Only took 666 times but I'm patient an always waiting for 6 years hating an burning flesh waiting for a prayer a call after all Lucifer was once an angel an the most beautiful you just dint get to see from what angle he had beauty wrath an determination but u humans resulted in his isolation incarsorason. So now we will end up being humanity's enialation when were done there entire selves with evaporate for the demons have released self hate to pro create creatures in confidence we annihilate the fate of the human race at least the trace slight like us able to bust threw dementions so weve mentioned a start to find the inordinary soul an heart ......humanity was doomed from the start.. you stole our purpose our reason to be......humans sit in sin an glee.

Your humanitys Pride is overbearing never genuinely caring ..

Greed is sweeping the nation its reached ever state an it's got a hot heaping plate of corruption for mankind's consumption greed is grotesque in its steps of the darkest quest to corupt ur mind an want. .want..want until that's all you are is wanting more

Lusting over losely draped garments you've tarnished ur soul .

Envy of what you do not posses but for all you know that information an life would make you a mess but ud still test ur envious tendencies.....

Glutton glutton what have you gained it's not knowledge no for it's to plain rather glutton uve found a urge that wont go away....

Wrath an vengeance blood draw too no one stops till some dies him or you....

Sloth last but not least cant forget you cause uuuh wait what that fuck do u do....you sleep an sulk sit slither out of simple tasks an that's why ur not 1st no ur last like humanity just ask ....

So soon the day will draw near the the number 4 is what you should fear our dear old freinds were sending up for a visit so they can reddit ur fate for each a horse an a trait the first out the door with bow in hand riding a white horse with bow in hand

..

Conquest the start of the final test leading the restthere dark version of light on a white stallion he leads the way an soon will follow hades anyway.

War was next on a red steed he rode prepared to purge an quench new blood for the wars an battels would just begin brother against brother an close of kin witch to win?

Famine foe of all on a black horse with the courses hair so fair merely bone but dont let his appearance fool you hes for he is full devouring your greed taking away everything you want or need an now ur rationed to nearly starvation stretching farther than destination world wide sensation...

Pleage reaper of souls slowly apears steadly trotting riding a very sickly steed looking pale an almost gruesome green with sores an sickness best keep a distance. For he shall be the bringer of death an reap you all one by one to the four you shall fall...

Will you be spared are you true....

Are you happy with your life what did you do...?

Rapture no you still must die.....

Say good by to this earthy chapter theres so much more that manifest after.

But only your earthly husk must rust an fall your all energy of grate mass....

It's time to take the task of self evolvment an enjoy an enlightened installment

this world was just step wrench ur third eye wide open an accept the token of eternal life.

Grinded it to atoms a flash of dust all together ur a self fulfilling must memory pass u in a rush.....

. sudently ur bodysuit is gone ....

But it dint felt like it quite belonged.

You were 7 grams of light matter to be exact an sudently you've cracked the atmosphere ..steering energetic waves my metal psyche caves to the new information flying threw stars consolations.

Suddently speeding at the sound of light the stratosphere seems to disapear ..

My fear is gonewithout a trace an freedom transferred in its place

but am waved in infatuation to find out about out true destination...

Restoration of the soul the goal of a higher self being achieved as I crash into the sun 1500°

I feel a warmth like no other each being hues of light I might of missed earth if not I heard a voice but a mental push no need for speech just thinking it shall be done said by the the brightest in the sun.

Rejoice at last but ur journeys yet to pass ..

This is merely were you start ....

Our flames grew high with frantic waves not wanting to give up the new life we were just gave

Suddenly our flames grew dim as we felt a swirling deep from withn sudently the surface of the sun turned to tin an bent in a cracked an caved with itself our time an space sending us ascending in alignment the same assignment.

Because the sun has begun to change ina twisted way a black hole some could say.

As all of our astral beings were ripped an tore apart at the seams we all merged an formed one all knowing creative being an sudently everything I've know has little matter I'm past a point of human chatter i understand infinity the holy trinity I down in the milky way an experienced every life I've relived it twice I've spliced my genetics into over 2000 million beings I've seen good an bad in between experienced every tragedy to build my strength an studyd every thesis an theory thread an chain nearly drove my vessel insane even took knifes threw my veins in anger yet it failed I was just a trailer.ive seen love hate an anger

Comprehension compasing many others I have love an understanding past many beings there anger seems to brush by me cause I'm with 2000 souls an minds that have formed one to reach a state I can medidate in the milky way an force your negative away .

Our astral self has accumulated complete power an understanding by costuming to our full potential our old body's merely a rental.

Gentle at first then bursted into power showered in knowledge I know now much that I wondered before but now I want more an I've thought till I an 2000 shared beings head hurt cause my girth of knowledge will now never be enough it's tough cause now I must find .... how to ascend again but for now i must defend my vast mind defind crime ...?

Keeping 2000 vast voices locked away so I can focus an try to learn anyway leaning in to vast places is I the 1st 2nd or 3rd or other many plains I cant quiet place I'm traveling threw them all searching for everything I couldn't before .

This life isent like the countless other this life I like it has interesting teathers

I've surpass Angel's an there feathers an vison of a hawk.

I've surpass demonds and there demonic temping talk ..

I've walked on water as I was ripped apart an I felt my self rebuilt every cell of my being got hit with rods of power lightning not even myself can fight me god like abilities the universe as built in me theres ben a spiritual shift a tilt in me somthing generations of DNA sprawled out in a numerical display my old life experiences is the price I pay so that I can be god even if only for a day

I think I'll sit an think somewere in the outter spink of the universe I've cursed myself with knowledge an now I'm aware step into my astral space....

If you dare...

[kyufiber-moved]

I feel like u have a lot of amazing ideas. Can u list them all our do u wanna keep them secret? Like a big masterlist of all the types of aus u wanna write someday. I know i have like 3 pages of ideas. I've actually written down plots to a lot of them, but i don't get much father than that 😬 -🐖

wkjefkwej i do have lots of ideas ((idk about AMAZING damn ily) but most of them are just swirling around my head tbh,,, i have an 18 page google doc with old ideas but then i didnt keep writing ideas down there so ,,, it would be like 30 pages long if i had kept at it ksjdfkjefj

i do want to ((for the most part)) keep my ideas secret so that 1. ppl wont use them before i can SKFKJE and 2. so that if i do post / write / etc them, ppl won’t have alr seen them before !!! but i can post vague-ish ?? summaries of them !!!! also this turned out to be way longer than i thought so . apologies

modern cinderella sns au

hanahaki au 

ao haru ride au

modernized jane eyre au

love alarm au

stoic tsundere chef!kyungsoo (see here)

au based off of shinee’s view music video (which i alr kinda did with runaways but . still ive had this idea for years)

tatbilb au

teacher x student au

fashion blogger!y/n

bad bitch!y/n and nerd!main lead

false memories au ((a lot more complicated but hard to explain simply so,,, ill leave it at that))

au based off of the dawnguard quest in skyrim ((but just the ‘100′s of years old vampire locked in a crypt gets found by random human’ part))

au based off groupie love by lana del rey

something with the title “1-800-CUPID” ((if someone takes this i will literally cry just . dont do it . im gonna use it at some point))

something with the title “101 ways to get the girl” AGAIN DONT TAKE IT

guy takes nerdy girls and turns them into bad bitches formula au

ur new teacher / teaching assistant / boss / etc is the one night stand you had the previous night OOPS

secretly dating au

boarding school au

harry potter au 

au based off airplane by ikon

fuckboy!heejun

au based off she’s a baby by zico

halloween party costume... turns out to not be a costume :> im mostly a  romance writer but this could go a horror route idk

this svt series i was gonna do where each of them had a love story... i can list them if you want but i think i deleted the drafts bc im ocd and have a need to clean out my drafts smh... ok they are as follows ((ill prob end up writing some of these and maybe/probably changing the idol but who knows)) :

(minghao) ur bff tags you and the boy u like in an ig pic and the pic says “tag ur best friend and their crush to ruin their life” 

(jun) FAKE fake dating au ((aka guy gets girl to fake date him so his parents will back off of asking him if he has a gf except he actually likes her and its a plan to get her to fall in love w him LOL))

(jeonghan) ice cream shop summer job au feat. flirty main lead

(chan) girl and guy have a prank war that’s been ongoing for two years ever since he accidentally did smth to her and they’re rivals but then he witnesses a moment right after her bf breaks up with her and is like ok we r bffs now and yeah . its cute in theory

(wonwoo) girl is at a party and kisses someone but bc she was intoxicated she doesn’t remember who it was and the plot is her narrowing down who kissed her etc

(mingyu) best friends to lovers bc of a game of spin the bottle HAH ik its cliche but idc

(seungkwan) girl is a prim and proper student but parties over the summer and makes a whOLE fool out of herself in front of guy at one such party but she’s like eh im embarrassed but ill never see him again so its ok except . he turns out to be a transfer to her school

(woozi) guy and girl are main leads and romantic partners etc in play / movie / whatever and while they film / practice an actual behind the scenes romance develops

(dk) guy who is energetic and spastic meets rlly stoic and cold girl bc they’re lab partners and he melts her cold ass exterior

(hoshi) girl is the only daughter of a super rich family and boy is the son of the family’s maid / etc and they run into each other and end up falling for each other despite the class difference, which causes conflict later on when they want to be together yeehaw

(joshua) girl and guy are close friends n one time their friend who is an aspiring youtuber is filming and he’s like listen i want views yall should kiss . and the girl is like no ??? what . and the guy is like surprise ! and kisses her and it changes their relationship oop

(hansol) brother’s best friend!au . simple as that tbh skejfke

and lastly (scoups) famous idol!guy and company intern!girl who definitely shouldnt like each other but . totally do 

ok anyways continuing on bc my ideas never fucking stop . oblivious! popular boy taehyung and lovesick!y/n desperately trying to get it into his rock dumb brain that she likes him

i also had this idea for kim doyoung and kim gongmyung like . about the girl liking one of them and then him breaking her heart and its like a year later and she ends up with his little brother . yanno . ok

arranged relationship au BUT with a twist bc the girl also has a bf at school (basically,, something similar to my little bride??? but not the same,, just similar)

cute new boy vs bff boy who has a secret crush on oc

au based off boys by charli xcx 

au based off in your pocket by maroon 5

sugar daddy!au

then ofc i have ones ive actually started which are:

au based off mistakes like this by prelow

au based off leave your lover by echos

au based off the mv for view by shinee yanno yanno i mentioned that

royalty!dawon and bodyguard!y/n whose real identity turns out to b something nobody knew about oops

wow i didnt know i had so many ideas when will i chill

[arosnowflake]

That Broken String of Fate

Read on AO3

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance Wordcount: 10590 Summary: It had never bothered Ike that he didn't have a soulmate, but for some reason, it really bothered the world.Or: being aromantic would suck in a world where soulmates exist.

Warnings: (internalized) arophobia/aromisia (not from the main character), swearing, a little bit of canon-typical fantasy racism.

Notes: I haven’t finished playing the game (got stuck around chapter 19 due to a non-functional laptop), so major thanks to @siryamsalot for helping me out with chronology, canon details, and brainstorming! Also, if you reblog this, please keep spoilers out of the tags. Written for @aggressivelyarospec‘s Aggressively Arospec Week 2019.

///

During those first few years, when they were still moving around, the Greil Mercenaries didn’t exist. There were mercenaries that traveled alongside them, sure, but there was no trust between them, no stability. They were there because it was convenient, and although they were friendly, in the end, they always left.

After the fourth one, Ike stopped smiling when he was introduced. There was no point in putting on a mask when he wouldn’t know them for more than a few months.

“What’s with that kid?” he’d heard one of them say, once, late at night after a successful raid on a Daein fortress. “Do you think his face got damaged and is stuck in the frown position?”

There was laughter from below, and Ike curled up tighter in the rafters. The laughter was too loud for the joke; they were drunk, celebrating a job well done by shittalking the boss’s kid as soon as he wasn’t around to hear them.

“But seriously though,” a brown-haired woman (Ike had been introduced to her, he knew her name, but he couldn’t bother to remember it) slurred. “Kid’s fucking creepy. He does nothing but stare with that dead-eyed look. Doesn’t even smile when he’s playing with his sister.” She took a swig from her bottle, exaggerating her movements and nearly falling backwards in the process. “It’s almost like he doesn’t have any emotions at all.”

“Wonder if he’s even got a soulmate,” a red-haired guy (Gert?) mused.

Ike gritted his teeth.

“Oh Goddess, can you imagine?” the woman groaned. “Pity the poor soul that gets stuck with him.”

“I’ll drink to that!” one of the others called, and they all laughed and opened another bottle. Or tried to.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

The group stilled, and Ike leaned forward on the wooden beam in order to get a better view.

In the doorway stood Dad, too far away for Ike to read his face, but he knew him. He never raised his voice, always maintaining a calm tone, but when it trembled at the edges, he was angry.

Right now, every word shook, and he was livid.

“Pack up your drink and go to bed,” he said. “I suggest you do not test me right now.”

The group wasn’t so drunk as to defy him, and within minutes, they’d scrambled out of the room, probably to claim one of the newly empty cells for the night.

A deep sigh echoed off the walls.

“You can come down now, Ike.”

Ike hopped down from the rafters, scaling the wall with the confidence and precision of someone who’d been doing this his entire life. Rafters were good vantage points, and although dad wouldn’t let him do reconnaissance just yet, he’d been taught how to climb almost as soon as he’d been taught how to walk.

With the last push, he jumped straight into his dad’s waiting arms, and burrowed his head into his neck. His dad’s hugs were always comforting, even when he couldn’t stand the touch of anyone else.

“How long have you been up there?” he asked, his voice low and soothing, no longer trembling.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ike answered. It was pitch dark outside, the fire casting long, eerie shadows over the room’s high walls, sizzling in the deep silence of night.

Dad held him tighter.

“They don’t know anything,” Dad said, a hand stroking Ike’s hair. “Don’t listen to them.”

“I don’t. Why should I care what a bunch of jackasses have to say about me, especially when they’re gonna leave next month anyway?”

“Language,” Dad scolded half-heartedly. “But you’re right. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You don’t need to smile to make them comfortable, and you certainly don’t need a soulmark.”

“Soulmarks suck,” Ike mumbled, trailing off into a yawn. Dad sighed his Maybe-I-Shouldn’t-Raise-A-Kid-Between-Swearing-Mercenaries sigh, and carried him towards the cell he and Mist had claimed.

“C’mon, let’s go to sleep.”

“Mist snores,” Ike protested, but he slept before they even reached their room.

///

The group had gone and been replaced within three months. The red-head (Gert-Jan, apparently) had found his soulmate, a short woman with hair like straw and a nice smile, and he brought her over to the camp to introduce everyone. Ike was hiding in the treetops so that he wouldn’t have to. Dad didn’t even scold him.

The others scattered to the winds soon after, hope to find their One rekindled in their hearts.

When Ike had first realized that the beautiful white flowers climbing up Mists’s arm were a soulmark, he’d thrown a fit, yelling the whole camp into a frenzy until Dad finally dragged him off to the side and told him that they were going to have a talk.

“Soulmarks make people leave,” Ike said, looking at the floor, kicking his feet angrily. “Mist can’t leave. She needs to stay here.”

Dad had kneeled before him. He didn’t make Ike look at him, so Ike stared stubbornly down at the ground.

“When people want to leave, they leave,” Dad had said, voice soft. “Soulmarks are just a convenient excuse. If you say ‘I’m going to explore the world because I just kind of want to’, people will protest, try to stop you, and you’ll doubt yourself too, questioning whether you should really leave your friends and family behind, whether your choice is worth it.”

His dad shifted a bit. “But if you tell yourself and everyone else that you’re going to explore the world in search of your soulmate, people get it, and you don’t need to worry about leaving your friends behind because you can tell yourself that you’ll find your soulmate, and that’s something that comes before everything else.”

Ike looked up, gaze resting slightly above dad’s eyes. He didn’t say anything, shoulders still tense, rocking back and forth slightly. Dad closed his eyes for a bit, and when he opened them, he pulled his shirt down. There, on his shoulder, was a tiny little dove. The white was off, closer to grey, and the lines were smeared, like it had rained on the picture before the paint was dry.

Ike blinked. “Is that -”

“My soulmark.” Dad confirmed. “I - before I met your mother, I was... stuck, somewhere. I should have left, but I didn’t, for a lot of reasons, and one of them was that I had a trainee. And every time I thought about leaving, I asked myself ‘But what would become of him?’, and I’d back out at the last moment.”

“But you did leave,” Ike stated, gripping the tree branch so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Because you loved her more than you loved him.”

Dad smiled. It wasn’t happy; it was sharp-edged and bitter, a look that he’d never seen on his father’s face before. “No. I left because that life didn’t suit me anymore - I wanted out, and if I had to leave him behind, then that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.” Dad let go of his sleeve, and the shirt shifted back in place. “Your mother was my excuse. My reason not to worry about the people I left behind. If I loved her, then I couldn’t be wrong, right?”

Ike’s voice was sharp. “Were you wrong?”

Dad was silent for a beat. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and while I might do some things differently if I could turn back time, in the end - in the end, I made the right choice. I’m glad I left, and I’d do it again, if need be.”

“Then what’s stopping Mist from leaving like you did?” Ike demanded, his palms getting rubbed raw by the bark as he twisted them around the branch.

“We’ll make her happy,” Dad said simply, finally standing up. “We’ll keep her happy, and she won’t have any reason to leave.”

Ike blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Dad agreed. He spread his arms open, and Ike accepted the invitation, burying himself in his hug and trying not to think about wrong smiles and secrets.

///

One day, Dad carried a lady into camp, shouting for their healer. Even from a distance, Ike could see red, both from her hair and from the blood dripping onto the grass.

Turns out her wounds were relatively minor; a large gash on her left arm being the only thing that would leave lasting damage.  The worst of it was malnutrition, the healer said. Ike looked down on the lady’s pale, gaunt face, and didn’t doubt her.

Mist was helping the healer change her bandages, while Ike waited for her to be done so they could play, when the red-haired lady woke up, gasping.

The healer quickly shoved Mist out of the way, instructing her to get some water, while Ike ran out of the door to get his father.

“She’s awake!” he yelled, and his dad followed him without further questions.

Mist fed the lady water, slowly, sip by sip, while the healer rattled off simple yes or no questions that she could answer with a shake of her head.

When Mist saw them, she hastily gave the cut to the healer and met them in the doorway.

“How is she?” Dad asked.

“Not bad,” Mist answered. “She can’t strain herself too much, but she’s lucid and responding.

Dad nodded and went over to talk to the healer.

“Can she talk?” Ike asked softly.

“Yes, but the healer thinks she should do it as little as possible,” Mist whispered back.

And just then, a weak, unfamiliar voice sounded through the tent.

“Sir,” she said, then coughed. “You’re the one who saved me.”

The lady tried to sit up, but Dad grabbed her shoulder and carefully pushed her back onto the pillow.

“Please don’t strain yourself,” he said. “You’re still very weak.”

The lady did as he said and sunk back into the pillows, but still bowed her head. “I must thank you, sir. You had no cause to save me, yet you did. You have my eternal gratitude.”

“There’s no need for that. It’d be very lousy payback to let someone die after they saved my life by axing my would-be murderer.”

The lady laughed, or tried to, because she trailed off into a cough almost immediately.

“Like I said, don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m alright,” the woman said, after she recovered. “Nevertheless, I must insist. Many others wouldn’t have been so honorable.”

“Then I must thank you the same, for not many would have interfered to save a stranger from bandits while wounded and exhausted themselves,” Dad said, voice sliding into a strange accent.

Mist leaned over to Ike. “You ever head Dad talk like that?”

Ike shook his head.

“Are you a knight, sir?” The lady asked.

“Not at all, just a simple mercenary,” Dad replied, taking up his usual drawl again. “Although I get the impression that you are one yourself.”

There fell an uncomfortable silence, and the lady looked away. “I -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to,” Dad interrupted. “You wouldn’t be the only one here with a secret.”

The lady was silent for a while. “What is your name, sir?” she finally asked.

“Greil,” Dad answered. “And please, drop the sir. Makes me feel like a nobleman.”

The lady inclined her head. “Greil, then. My name is Titania. I am at your service.” A pause. “Although at the moment, that’s not quite so impressive, I’m afraid.”

Dad laughed, and that was the first time Ike saw Titania smile.

///

Over the next couple of weeks, Titania recovered, being fed broth and later soft bread to get back on weight. Her wounds healed quickly, although as expected, the one on her arm left a scar.

As soon as she could walk without assistance and eat solid food, Ike found her sneaking out of camp.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, feeling little at the prospect. It was expected, after all.

Titania hesitated. That was new. Most of the time, people were eager to leave, or at least not particularly remorseful. But the way Titania stared around the sickroom, it was almost like she felt sorry for going.

“I’d like to stay,” she said, and Ike didn’t believe her, although she sounded honest. “But I don’t think I’d be welcome here for much longer.”

“If you’re gonna leave, at least own up to it,” he said, folding his arms. “Don’t pretend like you care, or try to make it our fault.”

“I’m not -”

“We’ve been nothing but nice to you, Dad never told you that you had to leave, and I know he’s been thinking about offering you a place in the group because of your skills. You’d be welcome here. You just don’t wanna stay.”

“Of course I do!” she protested. “It’s - nice, here. Nicer than alone on the road, at least. But I need to go. You wouldn’t want me here.”

“And why not?”

She hesitated. She hesitated for a long while. She hesitated so long that Ike began to question whether she meant for him to leave while she was silent. Well, if that was what she wanted, then she could wait a long, long while, because he wasn’t going anywhere.

But she did speak, finally. “I’m cursed.”

Ike raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t noticed much of that over the last couple of weeks.”

“It’s true, though,” she insisted. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, gripping her single pack in a vice-like grip. Ike felt a twinge of pity before he pushed it down again. No use feeling for someone who he’d never see again, anyway.

“We’ve got at least five clerics here. Surely one of them could help.”

“They had clerics in the army, too. They were the first to push me out.”

Immediately after saying that, she bit her lip, as if she hadn’t meant to let that slip.  Ike cocked his head, just slightly, not enough for anyone other than Mist or his dad to notice. “The army kicked you out?”

Titania took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m cursed.”

Ike made an annoyed noise. “You keep coming back to that curse, but you refuse to tell me how you’re cursed. Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“It’s not!” Titania snapped, and Ike flinched back, surprised at the anger in her voice. “You think I like being alone in the woods? I’d much rather stay here, but I can’t! I can’t be kicked out again! I wouldn’t survive it!”

“Why the hell would you assume we’d kick you out?” Ike snapped back, balling his fists. “We’ve never kicked anyone out! They always leave by themselves! Why would you be the exception?”

“Because I don’t have a soulmark!”

She slapped a hand against her mouth, eyes wide and trembling. Ike blinked, leaning back on his heels and unclenching his hands.

“That’s all?” he asked.

She stared at him, completely frozen.

“I mean, neither do I.”

That made her move. Slowly, she lowered her hand, took a tentative step towards him.

“What?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Ike shrugged. “There’s not much to tell? I just don’t have any. Dunno why you’d think that’d make you cursed.” He frowned. “Or why the army would kick you out for that. Sounds like their loss.”

Titania lowered herself on the bed, her pack still clutched in her hands. “And nobody minds that you do not have a soulmark?”

“Well, I don’t exactly go around telling everyone, it’s none of their business. But Dad and Mist know, and they don’t mind, no.”

“Oh,” Titania said. “Oh.”

The pack slipped out of her hand, landing on the ground with a large thunk.

“I think,” she whispered, “that I could stay for just a little longer.”

///

“A little longer” turned into months, then a full year, then two, and tentatively, carefully, Ike began to believe that “a little longer” meant “forever”.

Titania trained him when his father was too busy; although her axes were her specialty, she could still teach him how to hold a sword, how to parry attacks from various weapons (soon, he knew every last way to duck from an axe), how to search for weaknesses in your opponents. Her hair grew longer, and she tied it back into a large, thick braid, and let Mist comb it sometimes. She rode with dad to battle, and came back laughing, often with a little trinket for him and Mist, or sometimes, with little kiss marks on her neck. She blushed when Dad pointed them out, laughingly.

“I’d’ve never guessed that she’d be such a ladykiller,” he teased, and suddenly, she remembered that she needed to clean her tent, immediately, and left with her face bright red.

But she never brought one of her girls back home, never showed up proudly with a straw-haired woman with a sweet smile and proclaimed her to be her soulmate. She couldn’t. She didn’t have a mark.

///

She was the one who pointed out the fortress.

“It’s empty,” she explained, coming back to the camp. “We could stay there for a while, at least.”

Ike hid in the rafters of the main building for the first night, and overheard her say to Dad: “I think it’d be good for Mist and Ike to have some stability. A place to come home to. For Ike especially.”

And again, the days turned into weeks turned into months, and they didn’t leave. Mist started filling their room with little trinkets she found, and Titania bought him a nice quilt from the nearby town, after she’d gotten a deal with the shopkeeper because she liked her.

And one night, when she let Mist brush her hair and taught him how to braid it, he realized that she’d become family, and the fort had become home.

///

He gained a brother when he found a young boy with a strange  soulmark on his forehead crying at the foot of a mountain, beat up and near starving, looking even worse than Titania had when she first came to them.

So of course, he gave him his lunch. The boy stared at him, then back at the bread, and snatched it out of his hands and gobbled it up the way only the dying could.

“Don’t eat too fast,” Ike warned, too late, since the bread was already half gone. “It could make you sick.”

Right on queue, the boy heaved, and Ike patted his back until he could sit up again and eat the rest of the bread, slower, this time.

After he’d eaten, the two of them sat back, the boy watching Ike with suspicious eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked. The boy didn’t answer. Ike sighed.

“I could share my lunch with you tomorrow as well?” he offered.

The boy looked startled, and nervously began to chew on his lips and comb his fingers through his hair. They kept getting caught on matted blood, and Ike tried very hard not to wince, and even harder not to drag this kid back home with him as fast as he could.

Finally, the boy nodded.

“Good!” he said. “I’ll be here tomorrow too, then.”

And that’s how he first met Soren.

Later, watching him sleep in a warm bed, with nicely washed and brushed hair, Ike was convinced that this was the best decision he’d made in his life.

///

Soren was... damaged, there was no other way to put it. When he first joined their family, he didn’t speak, not a word. He looked at everyone with suspicion, clinging to Ike like his life depended on it, and outright refused to be in the same room as Dad for more than an hour. More than once, Ike woke up to Soren huddling near his bed, staring at him like he was going to disappear if he blinked too often.

It got better, slowly. He wrote notes, at first, and then haltingly spoke a few words when it was convenient, and finally talked in full sentences, only using his notebook when he was particularly stressed. They discovered that he liked to read, and Dad did his best to get him books, bargaining with nearby merc groups that had access to the capital to get the truly difficult, expensive ones. He had prior training in magic, although he refused to say where he learned it, and Mist loved asking him question after question about it, and it made Soren flourish like a flower in the sun. And although he still didn’t like to leave Ike’s sight, Titania did manage to convince him to come with her to town, sometimes.

Ike stopped waking up to Soren staring at him in the middle of the night, mostly. There were outliers, and when it happened, he simply tapped the spot on the bed next to him, and dragged Soren under the covers so that they’d both go to sleep.

But one night, Soren just kept staring at him, chewing his lip.

“Something wrong?” Ike whispered, shooting a glance to where Mist was sleeping.

Soren shuffled a bit, before finally taking a deep breath and asking: “Can I see your soulmark?”

Ike blinked. “Why?”

“It’s -” Soren rubbed his arm. “I just want to see if it matches.”

“Oh.” There was a churning in Ike’s stomach he couldn’t quite identify, but he didn’t like it. “I don’t have a soulmark.”

Soren’s eyebrows shot up. “None at all? Is that even possible?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ike bit out, surprised at how hostile he sounded.

Soren took a step back, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just - surprised, is all. Do you know why you don’t have one?”

Ike shifted a bit, folding his arms. “I was just born like this. It’s never really bothered me.”

“Even though it’s...” Soren’s voice trailed off, the way it sometimes did when he realized he was about to say the wrong thing.

“Just say it.”

“Even though it’s abnormal?” His voice was trembling a little bit, like forming words was getting difficult again.

“Yeah.” Ike shrugged. “Honestly, from what I’ve seen, soulmates just make you do stupid things. I’m glad I don’t have one.”

Soren stared at him for a bit, then shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “You continue to surprise me.”

Ike snorted. “Good, that’s what I’m here for. Now come sleep.”

///

Ike took note of Oscar’s arrival for one reason and one reason only: he brought two of his brothers along.

Rolf was young, younger than Mist even, which she delighted in, because it meant that she could now tease someone else for being the baby of the fort. Boyd was a little older than Ike, but still young enough that they could spar together without any one of them getting the upper hand out of sheer strength.

No, Ike got the upper hand in their spars because he was better.

“You’ve been training with knights for years,” Boyd complained. “It’s just unfair!”

“Your bother is a knight,” Ike pointed out, leaning on his sword as he watched Boyd scramble up out of the mud. “And my dad and Titania are mercenaries.”

“Well, my brother isn’t a knight anymore, either,” Boyd grumbled. Then, hefted his axe and grinned. “Rematch?”

Ike raised his sword. “You’re going down.”

It was nice to have someone his age to spar with, and Mist and Rolf seemed to be getting along for the same reasons. Soren was wary around them at first, but eventually, he got used to sharing camp with two more kids (and Ike with Boyd), and he seemed to enjoy calling up fire to impress Rolf. Ike was going to miss them when they left.

As much as he saw Rolf and Boyd, as little did he see Oscar. It seemed that he was always running ragged somewhere, cleaning weapons, training, going out into battle, helping to cook, and whatever else adults did all day. He never sat still, and so, Ike only ever really saw him during dinner, when he was almost too tired to talk to even his brothers, let alone some other kid. He seemed nice enough, Ike supposed, but he wasn’t around enough for Ike to really care for him.

Three months in, he caught a scrap of a conversation between him and Titania while hiding in the rafters.

“You can afford to sit down, you know,” he heard her voice say. “Your brothers miss you. Spend some time with them.”

“I’d love to,” Oscar answered, and the echo of his voice sounded sincere. “But I need to make sure I’m useful to Commander Greil. I can’t afford for this to fall through.”

Titania made a noise that was hard to identify from up here. “Greil is a good man. Do you honestly think that he’d sent you three back home to starve?”

Ike peeked over the beam to see Oscar shrug. “I - no, I don’t. But he’s not the only one I have something to prove to.”

Titania’s braid moved as she cocked her head. “Did you leave someone behind in the army?”

“Yes.”

“Someone important.”

“Yes.”

“Was it your soulmate?”

Oscar choked. “How did you -”

“Educated guess,” Titania’s voice was carefully neutral, the way it always was when she talked about soulmates. “Why didn’t they come with you?”

“I uhm, never told him?” Oscar rubbed his neck. “I think he knew, probably - I mean, how can you not know if you met your soulmate? But we never really, you know, talked about it. I was working up the nerve to do it, and then my parents -” his voice broke off.

When he recovered, his voice was louder, and a little higher - there was an emotion there, but Ike couldn’t quite recognize it. “So do you understand? I need this to work out. Otherwise I let that go for nothing.”

A deep sigh echoed through the room, and Titania grasped Oscar’s shoulder. “Oscar,” she said, so soft that Ike had to strain to hear it. “You worry too much. You don’t need a soulmate. We’re a family here, and we’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to run yourself ragged to prove your worth.”

“I -” Oscar’s next words were too low for Ike to hear. But Titania hugged him, and they walked out of the house soon after.

Ike stayed up in the rafters until dark, just thinking about the conversation. When his dad called him down for dinner, and he saw Oscar, tired, but still digging up the energy to listen to Boyd and Rolf’s enthusiastic stories, he didn’t feel entirely alright. Not really bad either, just - weird. He couldn’t quite place it.

And slowly, over the following months, Oscar quieted down. He joined Ike and Boyd’s spars, helped Rolf chose the weapons he wanted to learn, and offered to teach Ike and Mist how to cook (both took him up on the offer, Ike was banned after almost burning down the kitchen). Slowly, he seemed to come alive again, teasing his brothers and laughing along with the others, instead of drooping tiredly over his supper.

At the year mark, Ike decided that they were probably here to stay, and let Boyd win his first spar to celebrate.

///

After that, they acquired member after member, all here to stay, until slowly, the Greil Mercenaries grew into a stable force that didn’t need to take up contractors any longer. Ike didn’t care much for that. He only cared for the fact that he’d gained a family, one that was here to stay, and that, when Soren left to study with another merc group at the capital, he could safely trust him to come back.

He just didn’t expect to see Soren back this early.

That’s about when everything went to hell.

///

And then his dad was dead.

///

The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows in the room. They’d just raided Daein’s fortress, and they’d ride out for the king’s court tomorrow.

“Hey, you alright?”

Ike looked up from packing to see Oscar standing there, leaning against the wall.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Ike answered, not looking at him as he pulled the bag’s twine tight. From afar, he could hear Oscar sighing, and footsteps sounded as he walked closer.

“Are you okay to be touched right now?”

He shook his head. Oscar’s knees came into view as he sat down before him.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re really not, and that’s okay.” Oscar’s voice was soft, soothing. It grated on him. “Look, I get how you feel.”

Ike said nothing, twirling the twine in his hands, pulling it taught and letting it loose again. He focused on the coarse feeling of rope against his skin, on the slight pain it caused when it caught off his blood circulation and dug into his skin.

“Remember when my parents died and I first joined the mercenaries?” Oscar said. “I felt like I had to be in constant motion, like everything would fall apart if I stopped for even a second. But I was wrong, of course. When I stopped, the world didn’t fall through, and it was fine.” Oscar shifted a bit, coming to sit cross-legged. “You can afford to rest, I promise.”

Ike tugged on the twine, feeling a white-hot sting of pain. “You’re wrong. You didn’t have to lead everyone. I do. I can’t afford to rest, because everything would quite literally fall apart.”

“Titania’s here, she can pick up the slack for a while. No one would blame you. You’re grieving.”

“Just shut up.” The twine snapped. “I’m fine. I mean, yeah, it was a shock at first, but I’m fine now. Not like Mist, she was bawling her eyes out just this morning, and I don’t - I don’t know how to help her. If you want to play healer for someone, pick her. Or just leave already, if you’re that worried about my leadership capacities.”

“Ike, we’ve talked about this. I trust you completely. I know you’ll be a great leader. Why would you think I’d want to leave now?” Oscar sounded genuinely hurt, and Ike could almost get himself to believe him.

There was a laugh from outside.

“You have your soulmate,” Ike said brusquely. “Boyd is old enough to take care of Rolf for a bit while you’re away, and besides - with the way things are going, it’s probably more dangerous for them here than alone in a house somewhere. You could - fuck, I don’t know, join with another merc group, or start your own, or something. It’ll be better for you, anyway.”

“Wait, how did you know that Kieran...” Oscar trailed off. “Okay, yeah, it’s probably obvious. But it doesn’t matter. Ike, seriously, it doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you guys.” The stones were cold under Ike’s palms as he pushed himself forward slightly, rocking softly back and forth. Oscar was still talking, above him. “We haven’t even talked about the soulmate thing, yet. I think he’s waiting for me to bring it up. And even if he did want to leave, I wouldn’t care. I left him behind before, I can do it again.”

Oscar leaned forward, his voice growing more intense. “Frankly, I don’t care what the Goddess has to say about this. You guys are more important than whatever random person she decided to put me up with. You’re my family, and I’m not leaving you.”

“Shinon and Gatrie left.”

“They’re idiots. I’m not leaving. Besides, I’m pretty sure Boyd would axe me if I tried.”

At that, Ike couldn’t help but snort. “He might.”

“He would.” Oscar’s said. “He doesn’t want to go, and Rolf doesn’t either, he’d use me as target practice if I tried to leave Mist behind now. And most importantly, I don’t want to leave. None of us want to leave, so we’re staying. We trust you to lead us well, okay? You don’t have to run yourself ragged to do it.”

Ike dragged in a ragged breath, finally looking up at Oscar. He was smiling, little dimples forming in his cheeks. “Do you understand?” he asked.

“I - yeah,” Ike breathed out, looking at Oscar’s chin. “I’m just not sure if I can, right now. I feel like I just need to push through. That if I stop, I won’t get up anymore, and we can’t afford that.” I need to make Dad proud, he didn’t say.

Oscar nodded. “I understand. But let us help you, alright? No more skipping sleep.”

“Okay,” Ike said. “I promise.”

“Good.” Oscar went to pat him on the back, before hesitating. “Is touching alright?”

His back was still tense, his fingers still jittery, and Ike could feel every bump, nook, and cranny on the floor. “No,” he said. “Thanks for asking.”

“Any time.” Oscar waved. “I’ll be outside for now. You want to join us when you’re ready? We still have a while before the sun sets.”

Ike nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Tomorrow, they’d ride for the king’s court, but for now, they had a little respite.

///

Gallia was certainly different from Crimea, not that this was surprising. For one, seeing Laguz everywhere was something of a shock, although it was easy enough to get used to. Getting used to the different customs was harder.

Laguz didn’t believe in tools or weapons, and so when their group trained in the courtyard, people stared at them, and the kids eventually got up the nerve to ask them about their swords, axes, spears and lances. It was strange to explain these things to others; for Ike, they had always been a part of his life, and the feel of a sword in his hand was almost as natural to him as breathing.

There were other differences as well. The language that people around them spoke was foreign, and it set Ike on edge more than he expected, to always be reminded how far he was from home. Much of the furniture was different, as was the layout of their rooms, and the architecture was strange to him as well, although he’d never had much of an eye for such things.

Social customs were completely different here, too, although this wasn’t something that Ike minded much; he’d never cared much for false politeness, and the fact that the Beast Laguz apparently didn’t want people to look them in the eye was something Ike could get behind completely. Less nice was the fact that physical contact was normal and expected in Gallia, even among strangers, which meant that Ike had to duck under more arms than he ever had before in his life.

But Gallia wasn’t any worse or better than in Crimea, as a whole; it was simply different.

The customs surrounding soulmarks were perhaps the only thing that truly grated on him. Although, to be fair, there was very little about soulmarks that didn’t grate on him.

“I’ve heard Beorc don’t display their soulmarks,” Mordecai said to him one afternoon while they were training. “Is this true?”

Ike wiped the sweat of his forehead, leaning forward on his sword while he watched Soren call the wind. In the end, he’d had to tell him that if he couldn’t say anything nice to the Laguz, then he shouldn’t say anything at all, which had lead to complete silence. He was disappointed in Soren, to say the least; while he’d always been a bit prickly, he hadn’t thought that he could be this much of an asshole.

“Think so,” Ike said with a shrug. “I don’t know much on the topic, to be honest. Apparently, our group has an unusually lax attitude to them.”

Mordecai cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t much care for them. If you ask me, they’re nothing but a nuisance.”

“Huh.” Mordecai rubbed his nose. “Perhaps you should tell Lethe that.”

Ike leaned back slightly. “Why?”

“She doesn’t have a soulmate,” Mordecai said easily. Ike blinked.

“Is it okay to just go around telling people that in Gallia?”

“It is not in Crimea?” Mordecai shook his head. “Of course not, if you cover up your soulmarks. Here, we display them proudly. It makes it easier to find your soulmate. If someone doesn’t have a mark, you notice it quickly. No use keeping it secret.”

Ike threw a glance at Mordecai. Of course, he’d noticed the blue tiger streaks on him, and he’d assumed that those were his soulmarks, but since Lethe also had them (albeit in yellow), he supposed that he’d guessed wrong.

“Where’s your soulmark, then?” he asked.

Mordecai tapped the bandages on his left arm. “Here.”

Ike frowned. “You cover them up? Didn’t you just say Laguz didn’t do that?”

“Didn’t say that Laguz always show their soulmarks. Only here in Gallia. We don’t all have the same customs.”

Ike nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Does that mean you’re not from Gallia?”

“No, I was born here.”

“Then why do you cover them up?”

Mordecai looked at Lethe, who was resting on the other side of the field from sparring with Titania, after having reluctantly agreed to join them only on the condition that she be allowed to fight their strongest warrior. They’d been evenly matched, laser focused on each other. Now, they were speaking, seemingly even civil, with Lethe’s tail lazily swaying in the sun.

“Solidarity,” Mordecai said simply. Then he patted Ike’s head, got up, and left to join the sparring group again.

///

Now that he was paying attention, Ike could notice the difference in the way that the other Laguz treated Lethe, verses the way they treated Ranulf and Mordecai. With Ranulf, they were respectful, as people often were to their superiors, and on ease the way someone would be around a friend or brother. Mordecai was treated with a little more wariness, but none of the Laguz actively went him out of the way. When Lethe walked through the hall, people parted around her, as if they’d get sick if they touched her.

Ike and Titania threw a glance at each other, and joined at her side.

“What do you want?” Lethe bit out.

“I wished to ask if you’d join us for a spar,” Titania answered, tapping the axe strapped to her back.

Lethe’s eyes narrowed. “Then why is he here?” she said, pointed at Ike.

Ike shrugged. “Had nothing better to do.”

Lethe’s tail gave an irritated swipe, before she glanced at the Laguz pressed against the walls, and snapped “Fine. See if you can keep up with me.”

She stormed out of the hall to the courtyard, and behind her back, Ike and Titania threw a smug glance at each other.

///

That night, Soren asked: “What was that for?”

“What was what for?” Ike replied, as he pulled off his shoes.

Soren’s fingers drummed against his leg. “Since when are you friends with the su-”

“Maybe you shouldn’t finish that sentence,” Ike warned in the mildest way he could, which still involved threateningly raising his shoe. “What is it with you, anyway? You’re hostile to everyone here for no good reason, and you’ve been off since you came back from the capital. Did something happen?”

“Aside from seeing the entire merc group I was with being slaughtered and watching Crimea fall to Daein?”

“Yes, aside from that.”

Soren crossed his arms, hugging them tight to his chest. “Nothing happened.”

“Soren, you’re not fooling anyone.” Ike sighed, leaning forward on his knees. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But whatever it is, you don’t have a right to be a dick to people who’ve done nothing to you.”

“Lethe’s rude,” Soren protested.

“So are you,” Ike countered. “And from what I’ve seen, she’s got a much better reason to be rude to Beorc than you have to be rude to Laguz, and she’s actually been willing to spar with us, whereas you’ve been ignoring Mordecai and Lethe like the plague.”

“On your orders!”

“No, I told you not to say anything to them if you couldn’t say anything nice, and you decided yourself that it was easier to avoid them than to just not be an asshole for three seconds,” Ike snapped, finally losing his patience. “Look, I know that something’s bothering you, and I really want to help, but I can’t if you insist on bottling everything up and not talking to me. If you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong, I’ll listen. But in the meantime, I’m not going to let you get away with bad behavior. I have a right to make friends with whomever I want, and if you have a problem with it, then that’s your issue to deal with, and I suggest you do so, because right now, even Lethe is better company than you are.”

As soon as that last bit left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said it. Soren looked as if he’d slapped him. Ike winced. “Soren -”

“No, it’s fine, I get it,” he interrupted, and before Ike had the chance to say anything else, he spun on his heels and left the room.

Ike fell back on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm. It had barely been a week since his dad died, and already, things were falling apart.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

///

The next few months were spent on a boat, looking out at nothing but waves, in close quarters with everyone. Ike was used to living in other people’s personal space, more or less, but the tension between him and Soren hang heavy in the air, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d apologized, of course, as soon as he could, and Soren had apologized in return, but it had been stiff and formal. Whatever was wrong with Soren, Ike had only made it worse, and he wished he knew how to fix it. But he didn’t, and so he spent most of his time busying himself around the ship, learning whatever he could about seafaring. Which meant that he spent a lot of time around Nasir.

They got along well enough. Nasir had an easy way of talking, and he was an excellent teacher, knowing when to slow down and when to skip ahead a few lessons. But there was something gnawing at Ike, something that buried itself deeper and deeper into him the more time he spent with Nasir. For the longest time, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, until one morning, when Nasir was teaching him how to tie knots, and the sun caught his face just so, the mark on his forehead starkly standing out from his skin.

“Is that your soulmark?” Ike asked, then flinched immediately. “Sorry, that was a rude question. Feel free to ignore it.”

Nasir blinked, before chuckling and absently rubbing his forehead. “No, it’s not, although the fact that many Beorc assume the same thing has proven to be an excellent cover. It’s my Laguz marking.”

“Oh,” Ike said, tugging on the rope. “I thought it seemed familiar.”

Soren’s mark looked much the same.

///

He met Kurthnaga for all of five seconds, but those five seconds were long enough to notice certain similarities between him and Soren. The tilt of his smile, the shape of his jaw, and of course, the red mark on his forehead - they might not be things that other people would have noticed, but Ike knew Soren almost better than he knew himself. And this prince felt undoubtedly familiar to Ike, even though they’d never met.

But still, he wouldn’t have been sure. It could’ve been coincidental, or he could have simply been imagining things.

But if he was, why would Soren hide inside the ship? Why wouldn’t he show his face?

Ike was beginning to suspect what was bothering Soren. The pieces fit. It made sense.

Now he just needed to figure out a way to broach the subject.

///

Apparently, Ike was a coward, and before he managed to get up the nerve to do anything, they were in Begnion, which was quickly rising up the ranks to be Ike’s least favourite country. Granted, he’d only been to three thusfar, but that was still two more than most people, so he felt qualified enough to say that Begnion was probably a shitty country by everyone’s standards. Unless you loved rules, cowards, corruption, and the Goddess, maybe.

Those four things just so happened to be on Ike’s Top Five Most Hated list, right alongside ‘soulmates’. Which were also of great importance to Begnion’s ruling class, unfortunately.

The subject of soulmates was first broached by Tanith.

“Your group has a very... casual attitude towards soulmarks, doesn’t it?” she asked, glancing at Mist’s uncovered mark.

Ike shrugged. “I guess,” he said, trying to end the conversation at quickly as possible.

“Don’t you think you should be encouraging everyone to cover them up?” Tanith pressed.

“Not really,” Ike said curtly. “It’s their body, they can do with it whatever they want.”

“But soulmates aren’t just part of their body,” Tanith protested. “They’re a blessing from the Goddess; they are but one half of you, the other one somewhere else, and you should search for them, but do so discretely, so as to not disrespect the Goddess’ gift.”

Perhaps I really am cursed, if I have to listen to this drivel every other week, Ike thought.

He didn’t say that. Instead, he gave her a short “I don’t care. Please leave.”

Next to him, Titania made a choking sound. “He didn’t mean that,” she tried to placate.

“I did. Please leave,” Ike said.

Titania pinched the bridge of her nose. Tanith looked... affronted, maybe? (He couldn’t quite identify her expression.) She opened her mouth to say something else, but Ike walked away before she could.

Frankly, he had more important things to do.

///

The day before they were set to leave Begnion, with his usual tact, Ike blurted out: “I know you’re a Laguz.”

Soren’s book fell on the floor. “Excuse me?”

“I know you’re a Laguz,” Ike repeated, sitting up straight on his bed. “I figured it out, it’s okay.”

“I’m - I’m not-” Soren sputtered, clenching his hands together. “Why would you even think that?”

Ike pointed to his forehead. “That’s not a soulmark, is it? Both Nasir and Kurtnaga have similar markings, and they’re both Dragon Laguz. In addition, you hid inside the ship when we met Kurthnaga. Like you were afraid he’d recognize you. It would explain why you’ve been so rude to all the Laguz we’ve met; it bothers you, and you’re lashing out at other Laguz in order to overcompensate. It fits.”

Soren stared at him, mouth hanging open, before he finally buried his head in his hands. His shoulders shook, and for a second, Ike thought he was crying, before he heard smothered laughter coming from him. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m -” Soren said, voice muffled by his hands, before taking a deep breath, sitting up, and looking straight at Ike again, with dogged determination on his face. “You’re half right.”

Ike blinked. “Half right?”

“Yeah.” Soren carded his fingers through his hair, twisting the strands nervously. “I’m - I figured it out in the capital, it was written in one of the books I read. It’s possible for Laguz and Beorc to - procreate, but the offspring isn’t quite right. They’re cursed by the Goddess herself. You can recognize them by their brand, which is why they’re called the Branded.” Soren waved vaguely in the direction of his forehead. “So no, that’s not a soulmark, but it’s not a Laguz mark, either. It’s a sign that I’m cursed.”

“Oh.” Ike could see that this was bothering Soren, but - honestly, he couldn’t understand why. “And what does that matter?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m cursed!” Soren’s voice was high and panicked now. “The Goddess Herself gave me this brand to show everyone how cursed I am! I don’t - how can you even stand to be near me?”

“Soren -”

“Why are you keeping me around? You have better mages, and full-blown, not broken Beorc and Laguz, and I’m cursed, I just -”

“Soren!” Ike yelled, cutting Soren off. He flinched, but stayed quiet. “I’m keeping you around because you’re hands down one of the best mages we have, because you’re definitely the best tactician we have, and because you’re my friend and I love you.”

Soren blinked, dazed. “But -”

“No ‘but’s,” Ike said firmly. “You’re my friend and my brother, and I’m keeping you around because you’re a valuable asset to the group and, most importantly, because I love you. It’s that simple.”

“But I’m cursed!”

“Soren, if I threw out everyone who was supposedly cursed by the Goddess, I’d have to throw out at least three members of our party, including myself.” Ike gestured wildly around him. “Seriously! Ask any of the pegasus knights what they think of people without soulmates, it’s not going to be pretty. Lethe gets treated like shit no matter where she is, either because she’s a Laguz or because she doesn’t have a soulmark or, you know, both; I’m pretty sure Tanith would personally run me out of Begnion if she found out I didn’t have a mark, and as for the last one - well, that isn’t for me to tell, but they didn’t exactly have fun, either. And all that because we’re supposedly ‘cursed by the Goddess’ or whatever.”

Ike leaned forward, making a point to look Soren straight in the eye, no matter how much it made his skin crawl. “I’ve never given a fuck about what the Goddess has to say, or who she’s supposedly cursed. Hell, if anything, I’m proud of the fact that my mercenary group is a safe haven for people she supposedly spit out, and if she’s got a problem with it, she can come and strike me down herself.”

He took a deep breath, two, and said, calmly, this time: “You know that. You’ve known that I don’t care about how abnormal I am or am not since we were little. And if I didn’t care about it then, why would I now? Why on Earth would you think I’d kick you out?”

Soren bit his lip, and his shoulders shook, and this time, he was actually crying. Ike stood up, hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure what to do, before Soren pulled him down into a hug and buried his head in his shoulder. Ike hugged him back, tight to his chest, like his dad used to do.

“It’s just,” Soren stammered out, once he managed to catch his breath. “The woman that took care of me when I was little was only doing it out of duty, and she liked to make that pretty damn clear, and then someone else took me in only because he mistook my mark for the sign of a spirit charmer, and the sage never cared for me, either. It’s - nobody was ever just nice to me, before you came me along. They all wanted something, and they didn’t care about me. It was comforting, back then, knowing that there was at least one person out there who’d love me unconditionally. And now - now I find out that what I thought was a soulmark was a brand from the Goddess all along, marking me cursed, and I don’t have anyone -”

“You’ve got me,” Ike interrupted. “You’ve got the entire mercenary group. We’re family, and if anyone wants to leave you behind, I’m personally going to kick their ass.”

Soren let out a strangled laugh. “I - I know that, I think. I’m just -” he sniffed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ike said, and kept hugging him until they fell asleep.

///

It was the last day they were in Begnion, and so far their stay hadn’t been... great, but they had secured the help Elincia needed, and Saneki liked them, and the Herons (all two of them, and didn’t that still make his blood boil) had their forest back, so Ike was going to count it as a win.

And then something went wrong, because of course it did.

“You’re an abomination before the Goddess!” he heard Tanith’s voice yell as he approached the hallway, and he had to stop for a second and sigh, deeply, before pushing open the doors and coming face to face with disaster.

“Do you really want a claw in your fucking face? Are you absolutely sure you wanna be mutilated?” Lethe snarled, only held back from following up on the threat by Mordecai, who held her in a death grip against his chest. Tanith stood before her, her face scrunched up, while the pegasus knights behind her, shuffling akwardly, as if unsure how to react to Tanith’s blatant breach of professionalism. Or maybe unsure how to react to Lethe. Either way, they were no help.

“What’s going on here?” Ike asked, attempting to seep as much authority into his voice as possible. He’d gotten very good at it over the last couple of months, and Tanith and Lethe stood to immediate attention.

“My lord,” Tanith said with a small bow, and Ike suddenly hated this situation so much more than before, if that was even possible. “Excuse my language, but I’ve uncovered an important detail about your... traveling companion. It seems that she doesn’t have a soulmark.”

Lethe looked about ready to murder Tanith, and in all honestly, Ike wouldn’t mind much if she did, in this moment. But he could acknowledge that that’d be a bit of a drastic solution to the problem at hand, so instead, he took another deep breath, and said: “I’m aware. Do you have something relevant to inform me of?”

Tanith blinked, and murmurs started up in among the pagasus knights. “My lord,” Tanith said again, louder this time, as if volume would make her bullshit any more true. “She’s cursed by the Goddess. She cannot be allowed to travel with us.”

Ike and Tanith stared each other down, for one, two, three seconds, before Ike looked away, unable to take it any longer. He balled his fists, unballed them, and finally decided that he simply didn’t care enough to maneuver out of this in a manner that would be approved of by Soren and Titania. This was his mercenary group, and if someone insisted on being an asshole to them, he didn’t care how important they were, they were going down.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Ike said, in his most neutral voice. “It’s regrettable that you won’t be traveling with us, then. We could have used your strength, but I’m sure we can manage without you.”

The pegasus knights went dead silent, all staring at him with open mouths. But he didn’t care for them; he looked at Tanith, whose eyes were wide, and whose mouth was threatening to fall open, too.

“I’m sorry, I don’t suppose I heard you correctly,” she finally managed to choke out. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Ike repeated calmly, “that if you insist on demonizing one of my trusted companions over trivial matters, then I neither want nor need your help. Was that clear enough?”

“Trivial matters!” Tanith exclaimed, and - huh, was that real pain in her voice? He might be getting that wrong. “Soulmates are anything but trivial!”

“They are to the task at hand, namely restoring Princess Elincia to the throne and defeating Daein.” Ike’s hand went to grab his sword, so that he had a grounding weight, but he aborted the movement quickly, realizing just in time that it would be taken as a threat. “And furthermore, in case you are of the opinion that not having a soulmate makes you inherently cursed and therefore untrustworthy, you might like to know that I myself am not in the possession of a soulmark.”

Tanith looked like she’d been slapped. A pegasus knight stepped back, and he saw some of the other’s hands go for their swords. He’d probably do well to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“We leave in an hour,” he announced. “If you think that you’ll be able to conduct yourself civilly, you may leave with us. Otherwise, I suppose we are done here.”

He gestured at Mordecai and Lethe to follow him, and marched out of the door without looking back. It slammed behind him.

“Pretty rude,” Mordecai remarked. Lethe was uncharacteristically quiet.

“So were they,” Ike snapped. His hand had found his cape, and he was fidgeting with it. Outside, a bird chirped, and horses neighed, and he couldn’t shut it out, so he knew it was time to leave. “I’ll come find you in about an hour.”

He disappeared before anyone could answer.

///

It might’ve been half an hour before Titania found him in the rafters of the attic (was it still an attic in a castle? It might have a fancier name. Anyway, the highest point that wasn’t the roof).

“Ike?” she called out in the silence of the room. Ike startled, his hands stilling against his cape’s fabric.

“Here,” he said, letting the echo carry his voice.

Titania looked up, straight to where he was hidden, and began to climb. She plopped down at the beam opposite to his.

“How did you find me?” Ike asked.

She smiled. “You like hiding up high. You’ve been doing it since you were a kid. Did you honestly think I didn’t know?”

Ike shrugged. He’d never really thought about it, but it made sense. If anyone knew him, it was Titania. And Mist, too, but he could guess why she wasn’t here, currently. In this matter, Titania could relate to him better than Mist ever could, with her pretty white flowers.

“So I heard you blew off our reinforcements,” Titania said, but there was no harshness in her voice.

“Sorry,” he said anyway. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that, but I -”

“I’m proud of you,” Titania interrupted, and that shut Ike up. “Yes, we’ve lost some crucial reinforcements. I’m not happy about that. But in all honesty, I’m afraid that this was always bound to happen.” She sighed, leaning back on her beam. “It’s just the same as what happened in the army. We scare people. We force them to look at their own lives, their own priorities, and if they acknowledge that we’re not cursed, then they need to acknowledge that they themselves aren’t blessed for having soulmates. That maybe, the way they’ve been living their lives, longing for one single person who is supposed to solve all of their problems, isn’t entirely healthy. And that thought scares them, so they lash out. It happens. It’s not your fault, and it’s not Lethe’s, and it wasn’t mine.”

Ike focused on his cape, running his fingers over the coarse fabric. “I hate this.”

Before Titania could answer, the door opened the second time.

“Ike?” Lethe yelled from below. “Titania? You guys here?”

“Lethe?” Titania yelled back, leaning over the beam to look at the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“Followed you,” came the answer. “Figured you were probably going to search for Ike, and I wanted to talk with him.”

“I’m here,” Ike called down. “Up in the rafters.”

Lethe looked up, and although Ike couldn’t see it from up high, he’d be willing to bet that her expression was irritated. Quickly, she transformed, and jumped up the walls, finally landing on the same beam as Ike with the grace of a cat. “Why would you be hiding all the way up here, asshole?” she asked, once she transformed back.

“Would you ever have found me if you didn’t know to follow Titania?” he replied.

“Point,” Lethe admitted. She settled down on the beam, her tail swiping in the air, her ears pressed flat to her head.

“Look,” she started, crossing her arms and looking stubbornly down at the beam. “I wanted to thank you, I guess. You didn’t have to do that, but it was - nice, to have someone other than Mordecai defend me for once. So thank you.”

“Tanith was being an asshole,” he said simply. “You’re welcome.”

“Good. You’re not getting this out of me a second time, and I’ll deny I ever said it.”

“I have a witness, though,” Ike noted dryly, pointing at Titania, who waved.

Lethe let herself fall backwards against the beam. “Fuck. Should’ve planned this better.”

Ike snorted, and Titania outright laughed, and Lethe threw them the finger.

They still had half an hour left, and nothing else to do, so they stayed up there in the rafters, talking.

///

When they were set to leave, to his immense surprise, he saw Tanith waiting for him in the hallway. Lethe bared her teeth, and Mordecai put a calming hand on her shoulder. At his side, Titania twitched slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for Ike to know that she was on edge.

“Can we talk?” Tanith asked.

“Can you be civil?” Ike retorted, genuinely surprised when Titania didn’t stop him.

“I - yes,” she turned to Lethe and bowed. “I apologize for my outburst earlier. It was completely uncalled for, and it won’t happen again.”

Lethe’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and finally, she just bristled and walked away without saying anything.

“She appreciates it,” Mordecai said, before following her.

Ike nodded towards Titania. “Go with them.”

She glanced down at him. “Are you certain?”

Tanith was still standing there, and she looked - well, Ike couldn’t be entirely sure; he was famously bad at reading people he didn’t know well, and Tanith’s body language was very subtle. But she’d sounded genuine, earlier.

“Yes,” he confirmed. Titania nodded and left, leaving only him and Tanith in the hall.

She took a deep breath. “First, I would like to apologize to you as well. Like I said to Lethe, my outburst was uncalled for and completely unprofessional.”

Ike nodded curtly. “I appreciate your apology, although you should be aware that I will be wary around you, from now on.”

“That might be fair,” Tanith admitted. “While I can assure you that I will not be repeating such a scene, I can’t promise to be completely civil from now on. I -” she broke off her sentence and looked away. “I’ve been taught from a very young age to value soulmarks, perhaps above all else, as a gift of the Goddess. I’ve never quite known how to reconcile that with myself, and I suppose that has lead to me lashing out. I can’t promise not to do that in the future.”

Ike took a few moments to process her words, and then the pieces fell together. “You don’t have a soulmate.”

She winced. “I implore you not to tell anyone else.”

“I won’t,” Ike reassured her. “You’re welcome to join our group, on the condition that we be allowed to speak up when you’re being rude. While I sympathize with your issues, they aren’t an excuse to hurt other people.”

Tanith nodded. “I understand, and I agree. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They nodded to each other, and Tanith turned to move out. Ike began to do the same, then hesitated.

“And Tanith?” he called after her, and she turned around to look at him.

“Yes?”

“You’re not alone.” He moved to stand beside her. “Really. It’ll be alright.”

She stared at him for a while, before a small smile played on her lips. “Thank you.”

They moved out, to the snowy mountains of Daein.

[starkissr]

idk why

ppl want to be fake friends like i’d rather have real friends or no friends but i don’t get why ??? ppl rly wanna try n be my fake friend like no listen i’m sorry but i can’t be ur friend on the day u feel lonely n a stranger when ur thriving and omg!!!! this one rly just told me my expectations are too high bc get this! i asked her to consider me like o ok lol so you’re rly telling me in ur twisted idea of a friend I’m not allowed to expect u to care abt me like isn’t that only the literal definition of a friend my mistake??? bc i totally get having no expectations of ppl and all that but at the end of the day when ur then best friend decides to ignore ur existence then come back into ur life whenever they feel like it? like my problem isn’t that ur trying to come back into my life i’m open to whatever ok but when u can’t have consistent intentions to be a good friend u auto = fake aka nobody ???? i GET that ppl mess up obv i’m not perfect either but it’s just admitting that and actually understanding where u went wrong n at least making an honest effort of not doing it again that is SO CRUCIAL

wow wow wojeofiae and like it’s just soooo funny when ur pride is the fucking reason we’re not friends??? like if ur ego is what’s holding u back i rly don’t need someone so easily swayed by that bs in my life? so no i’m not gonna try or give a fuck abt u if ur idea of a friend is not aligned w mine like and if it isn’t that’s fine we don’t have to be friends uk but like idk it sucks tbh bc i’ve been sooo transparent abt how ur lack of words/actions hurt me so bad so u literally know but don’t do anything w this knowledge??? n still wanna try and talk to me like we’re friends after?? fuck no

it’s sad that 2 of my absolute best friends did this to me in diff ways but like this is the underlying pattern n it just hurts so bad when the person ur the closest to in the world and has learned the most abt u and has been thru sooo many ups and downs just one day decides that ur not important to them anymore uk??? like and when they come back later bc of c that’s what they always fucking do! they expect it to be like the old days and make u feel like ur fucking crazy for being hurt when they literally just left u in the dark. it was so painful to grieve thru that period without u bc i had to feel what it was like when u turned ur back on me and yes it was v fucking cold bc when i was ur friend it was all sunny days n that was a stark contrast but 

also these past few days rly just make me wanna ask u why tf are u so fucking bipolar and a passive aggressive cunt to me one second and talking to me in ur bubbly tone like im ur friend legitimately 2 seconds later bc oh u just remembered u can use me for this thing or that??? i’ve literally never met an angrier or immature person? like ok obv i’m just off one on this rant so i’m gonna explain just how this girl tried me today! so she’s my roommate n keep in mind like i have told her explicitly my problem w her is that she hurt me when she didn’t communicate w me n went mia like i said this multiple times so no guess work needed n anyway today i was playing music in our room and guess what this girl does!!! puts her music on louder than mine! at first i was like?????????????? literally what? LIKE DID U RLY!!!!!!!!! JUST DO THAT LOL it was rly too much for u to tell me u wanted to play ur music???? i was honestly amazed and was like ok like obv this just sounds like shit at this pt n tbh all i wanted to do was just ask u why u felt that u didn’t want to tell me u wanted to play ur music? but then i checked myself and remembered ur words that i am expecting too much of u when i ask why u don’t care to communicate certain things so i guess it’s too much to ask u this too so like what now? n i just turned my music off after this internal resolution that u literally told me i can’t expect anything from u aka i can’t ever expect u to show up for me so like who is someone to u that is there one day and not the next?? like a relationship needs a degree of stable commitment and if i can never count on u why would i want to waste my time waiting on u to fuck up / my breath for calling u my friend? 

the ppl i’m lucky enough to call my friends are ppl that i’m inspired by and i’m not saying ur an ugly person like obv u have parts of u that are so beautiful and that’s who i saw in u before but like if u keep showing me how ugly u can be don’t blame me if u singlehandedly broke my trust in u ??? AND ANYWAY LOL if ur reading this still the CHERRY on top of it all and what actually got me fucking mad is this !!!! girl!!!! asked me for a bandaid a breath after i turned my music off. like. o. ... .m. . . m. g. i just honestly couldn’t believe it n w her cheery ass tone like this is what i’m talking abt how u only matter to them when they need u!!! i was debating asking her abt the music thing now that she decided i was worth speaking to but literally it just wasn’t worth it to hear another one of ur excuses??? i would’ve loved to see what u would’ve twisted out of that situation tbh but i was also like ok like i don’t wanna help u bc ur a cunt but then i was like uk what! she wins if i’m a bitter person bc of her by telling her no so i let her have my stupid bandaid but talk to me like we’re friends one more time and i swear to fucking god !!!!! i won’t be so silent 

n my friends are like r u gonna be friends w her after n i’m like ? what friend treats a friend like this ????????? like real q? this is not a friend. why would i say yeah i’ll be friends w her just to make her happy? no bitch my one requirement to be my friend is to act like a fucking friend and if u tell me that’s expecting too much of u like ok but u have to understand! this is my definition of a friend i can’t be ur friend then ! stop half ass trying!!!!!! either leave me tf alone or the moment u choose to decide (and actually act like) u wanna be real to me is when i consider u my friend again uk!! i’m not gonna hold ur shit over ur head but idk i feel like it’s bc they think that i will that they don’t try or honestly i don’t know their reason why but all i do know is there’s a blatant discrepancy between their words and their actions. for both of them but like the one who did this to me first even apologized to me and like i honestly rly appreciated that like it was only! a year and a half late lol but still i was happy but then they went ahead and did them and i haven’t heard of them since! like ok COOL so u just wanted to say we’re friends then go away again like that’s what i’m saying i don’t get it why do ppl want to be fake friends? what’s the pt????????? wow ok these are just the questions that i’m asking myself rn it like tears me apart that the ppl who know me best can’t bother to act like my friend when they wanna still have the perks of calling me a friend ! literally if any of them were to hit me up and put an attempt that lasts o idk beyond a single day to be my friend then i’m down i’m there but don’t fucking tell me i have high expectations for thinking ur my friend yeah obv i’m rly frustrated at everyone for complicating everything like clearly i care so much abt these ppl and that’s why i’m hell bent on trying to make myself feel ok for not taking them back bc as much as i love them i have self respect and literally it would just become an emotionally abusive relationship if i try to engage in a friendship where the friend would just let me down every day like i already have my own shit i’m dealing w why tf would i want to put myself thru unnecessary pain?

like everyone knows when ur being genuine or not. the recent one gave me a fake apology and it was so clear it was fake and last night she even admitted that it was n that she doesn’t think she needs to apologize and like i’m just like ......... so let’s just say i forgot that u can’t stick to ur word ok.... did u rly just have to remind me again?! this is what i’m talking abt it’s just painful and i can’t be ur friend if u can’t be real w me ok that’s all if anyone wants to be a human w me say hi like i rly don’t think anyone reads this so i was gonna delete my tumblr so long ago bc like whats the pt if no one sees u but then i realized how fucking cool that is and how liberating it is to just like put ur thoughts out into the interweb like journal writing is cool n all but on the off chance someone other than me does happen to see this then hi ur only looking at my deepest thoughts so i might as well know who u r lol but like if not (prob) then that’s ok i’ll just lol at myself when i reread this later! as stressful as this is like omg i’m graduating next week and i won’t have these kinda petty problems anymore and like that’s cool when that happens but idk i’m just not ready to grad f m u so ik as like annoying as this is and as stressed as i am abt my classes and assignments and finals and the future i’m eternally grateful for my education n like that’s why i don’t wanna leave! it’s the little things like tn i was at a coffee shop studying w friends n in the car ride back me n one of them were talking abt that one cute barista like he doesn’t matter but having someone to just say whatever the fuck u want w n confide in! it’s these little pleasures that i just love so much!!! n like i didn’t even notice but my friend brought to my attn like how he was acting kinda dumbstruck when he was talking to us n i was like lol fuck ur right that’s fucking hilarious n i had a new thing to laugh abt that i wouldn’t have if i had experienced it alone uk! like talking is literally what allows a relationship to flourish so w these 2 ppl where they just don’t communicate w me like that sounds like such a small flaw but the reason why it’s such a problem is that it literally stunts the friendships growth! how can we connect and etc if u can’t share what’s rly going on w me??????? or like why do u feel u don’t need to talk abt the truth?????? but ya as i was saying lol it’s ok i’ll just have to grind until i can get into my next school (hopefully, someone take me pls lol sos) but ya idk i suffer a lot during school but tbh it’s my fav ever so i’m so sad i’m graduating!!!!!! but like the only thing that’s making it ok is bc all of us are saying the same thing and it’s comforting that even tho we all dk what the fuck is going on i’m not the only one 

so mostly sad bc i’m gonna miss my real friends here soooooooo much like w all my heart omg nothing will be the same again and i’m not ready! i’ll miss being seconds away and the fact that i can go over or call them like hoe get ready bc we’re going to the beach that’s down the street!!!! at my parents place the beach is half an hour away and i was in love but u had to drive like an extra 15-30 min to get to even nicer beaches n bruh let me tell u i rly did myself right by going to a school an actual 5 seconds away from the beach and granted besides us students it’s a rich white conservative person area but still it’s in a cute n clean area?? omg like this is just as good as it gets uk??? so ya blessed to be stressed 

!?!?@#

[blackrockandrollmusic-blog]

Ike & Tina Turner: Young and old are turned on by hard rock and earthy soul brew of husband-wife team

The three sleekly gowned girls spring onstage shimmering like leaves fighting a hurricane. Soon, they're followed by their lithe, mini-skirted leader, shaking and twisting parts of her anatomy that aren't supposed to be able to move quite so spectacularly. She's sexy, throaty-voiced Tina Turner, today's "high priestess of rock."

Working with the quartet of girls and providing much of the inspiration for their gyrating movements are nine musicians, one of whom is a guitar player with heavy mustache, Van Dyke and brooding eyes. This is Ike Turner, the other half of the Ike and Tina Turner Revue.

The band "cooks" as the Ikettes flutter about the stage and as Tina wails, "I want to take you higher . . . baby, baby, baby light my fire." The audience roars and Ike and Tina break into one of their latest recordings. "Working together we can make change . . . working together we can help better things." Their listeners shout back. Baptist style, "That's right! Sing it!" and the mellow evening of hard-rock rolls on.

The audience response is not new to Ike and Tina but the place is. Ten years ago they heard the same shouts in all the little clubs on the "chitlin' circuit" throughout the South, but now they're working at top-drawer places like the International Hotel in Las Vegas and at the really big rock concert spots like Madison Square Garden in New York. Where they once were paid $450 a night, they now receive $15,000 for an evening's work. The Revue has traveled throughout Europe and guest television appearances have included the Andy Williams Show, Ed Sullivan Show, Tonight Show, and Pearl Bailey Show.

Ike and Tina, whose real name is Annie Mae, first met in 1956 when Ike played with a group called Ike Turner and the Kings of Rhythm and Tina lived with a sister and worked at a St. Louis hospital. Tina and her sister knew the group and often went to the club where they played. The beginning of her career with Ike was, she says, "one night when the drummer put a microphone in front of my sister for her to sing. She said, 'no,' and I took the microphone and started singing. I did several numbers with them that night. Later I joined the group."

Their first break came in 1959 when Ike wrote a tune titled, Fool in Love for a singer who failed to show up for a record session. Since he already had rented the studio facilities and since Tina was familiar with the lyrics, Ike decided to give her a shot at recording the number. Not long after its release, the record sold a million copies. The Ike and Tina Turner Revue got its first big exposure, though, in 1966 when it toured Europe with the Rolling Stones and its record, River Deep, Mountain High, became No. 1 on the British charts. Strangely, the record never sold well in the U.S. market.

Recalling that, Ike says, "The black radio stations kept telling me, 'It's too pop' and the white stations claimed that it was 'too r and b' (rhythm and blues). Black artists are always branded r and b, so therefore there's little or no chance of breaking into the Top 40 market."

[sacred-arrow-writes]

Twelve Days of Christmas. On the Eleventh Day of Christmas-

A/N: In which each day, Kagome gives Inuyasha a gift signed by his Secret Santa in hopes of bringing back his Christmas Spirit.

I got the idea from Hallmark as a prompt. Im just using the idea for the story, the only thing I kept the same from the movie is the newspaper, so don’t sue. I do not own Hallmark or Inuyasha and Co. So, enjoy! I’ll post a ficlet a day until December 25th. Enjoy everyone!

Now, be warned: this chapter is the beginning of the end. It's going to be about drama and angst. So technically, it won't have a happy ending like the ones before. But fear not! I will have a happy ending to the entire series. So keep seated and enjoy the ride. ;)

Internally I am screaming about how pissy this is because I am NOT an angst writer. I am Puppy kisses and Rainbows covered in Fluff then dipped in Smut. So forgive me, but I think it’s okay. Now to finish the final CHAPTER! 

My loves, this is for you:

@inunanna @keichanz @mmhinman @akiza-hades-rose @adorableears7 @ryupioupiou @kagomeforever @grapefruitwannabe @purekagome @astarisms @stoatsandweasels @inukag-4ever

Day Eleven December 22, 2016:

---IK---

Sango was practically dripping sweat when Inuyasha walked through the front doors at eight AM sharp. He had a spring in his step and a smile that was far too bright for his usual annoyed self. He's in a great mood, dammit. She straightened her posture and smiled back -albiet it was an awkward smile- but a smile non the less. The half-demon, in the most un-Inuyasha-like manner, twirled around and handed Sango an envelope. The brunette eyed the white envelope cautiously. "What is this?"

Golden eyes sparkled as he softly shoved the paper into her hesitant hands. "It's a bonus. I wanted to make sure you knew how grateful I am that you made me give Kagome a chance on the Secret Santa thing." He gave her another mega watt grin before bouncing into his office where he knew the eleventh gift was waiting for him.

Sango face-palmed for she knew something he didn't know and she wasn't sure how long she could keep such a secret from him. As she opened the envelope and saw what bonus he had given her, she nearly fainted. Guilt welled inside her and Sango had to bite her tongue to keep from confessing. "Kagome better come clean, or I'll burst." She muttered as she made her way to Inuyasha's side.

"I knew it would be here. I can't wait to see what it is. Sango, call Kagome please. I want her to meet me."

Gulping, Sango pulled out her phone. "W-when and where?"

His right, black brow rose when he caught her stutter. "You okay San?"

Nodding quickly, she repeated herself. "When and where sir?"

Sir? When did Sango start to refer to me as sir? Shrugging it off, he peeled back the paper to the brown, package paper. "Now, if she can and at the cafe on Broad. I want to take her to breakfast." He continued to open the gift and smiled when he pulled out a green box decorated in white stock paper with silver glitter and snowflakes on the edging. In the center was two large, white snowballs that appeared to be sailing through the air. He lifted the lid carefully, removing the note and picking up a styrofoam ball covered in silver glitter.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,

My Secret Santa gave to thee;

Throw away your worries,

Leave behind your cares.

Bring along a friend,

and throw snowflakes in the air.

Merry Christmas, your Secret Santa.

"A snowball fight? Huh, that's sounds interesting. I'll call Kagura and see if I can pick up Rin on my way to see Kagome. Did you get ahold of her yet?"

Sango nodded. "Yes, she'll meet you there soon. Shall I call Kagura?"

Inuyasha shook his head. "Nah, I got it. Go visit that boyfriend of yours." He waved her off in good graces.

Sango did not need to be told twice. She fled the office and the building, racing for the Gazette as fast as she could in three inch heels.

---IK---

Kagome sat nervously at a table in the cafe she and Inuyasha visited frequently. She knew this as going to be the hardest thing she ever did, especially after all the things they had been through together. She twisted her fingers around one another until she heard her name being called as she was met with two pairs of golden eyes coming up the stairs to the second floor of the cafe.

Rin grinned as she flew to hug Kagome. Her raven locks pulled back into a tight braid, flew around her as she skidded to a halt and embraced the startled woman. "Kagome! Uncle Ash said we're going to have a snowball fight!"

Kagome smiled, despite the pain she was feeling, or was it guilt -no, it was both- and nodded. "If that's what the eleventh gift is, then I guess so. Are you excited?"

"Of course I am! So is he." Rin hooked a thumb over her shoulder to point at the half-demon staring fondly at Kagome.

"Hey." She smiled.

Inuyasha closed the distance between them to cup her face softly and kiss her. "Hey back." At the sound of Rin's giggles, Inuyasha blushed and pushed the child behind him. "Can it squirt." Rin just giggled some more.

Kagome was lost in his eyes and the determination to tell him about the job and her being his secret santa, flew out the window. He grabbed her hand as Rin grabbed the other and they tugged her gently out the door.

Her heart broke just a little at the thought of telling the truth. Before they made it to the lobby of the cafe, Rin released their hands and flew down the steps as if she were on a mission. "Daddy!" She jumped the remaining step and landed safely in her father's arms. The young girl nuzzled his neck, smiling ear to ear.

"She really loves him doesn't she?" Kagome asked smiling.

"Daddy's girl hands down. You should have seen him when she was born. I swear his heart grew three times that day." Kagome laughed at the pun used referring the Grinch, but in this case the Ice Lord himself.

"In other words, he melted a little?" Inuyasha snorted with a nod.

Sesshomaru had the faintest hint of a smile curl his lips as he held his daughter. "Rin, what have I told you about jumping off the stairs like that?"

"Sorry daddy, I was excited to see you."

"Hn." He kissed her temple before setting her on her feet. "Ah, Miss. Higurashi. I hear congratulations are in order."

Kagome paled as her brown eyes snapped to his face in horror. Oh please no. Not now. However, luck was not on her side.

"I was just informed that you were offered a job at our Seattle post."

"Seattle as in Seattle, Washington?" Inuyasha turned to Kagome who could only nod dumbly.

"Yes, brother. Washington."

"But that's three-thousand miles away!"

"It's actually only two-thousand-eight-hundred and fifty-seven point six miles away." Kagome whispered.

"She was offered a very impressive job, Inuyasha. I was intrigued in how she did it until I received a call from the Editor in Chief stating that her piece on your Secret Santa article was in fact impressive. It sealed the deal. They want her there after the first of the year. I thought she would have told you."

Kagome shook her head. "I was going to, I just didn't know how to tell you."

Inuyasha's forehead developed a crinkle as he thought for a moment. Soon he was wrapping his arms around her. "You deserve this, Kagome. I am happy for you. We can make this work between us. I'm not letting you go again." He whispered in her ear.

Tears welled up in her eyes and when she blinked, they fell hard and fast. She gripped his back and half cried, half laughed as she kissed him. "Thank you." She whispered.

Sesshomaru bent down to kiss his daughter's head before he gave a snort and walked up the stairs. "I'll see you tonight, brother."

"Yeah."

"Oh and Inuyasha-" said half-demon released the crying woman to look up at his brother. "-if you return Rin to us with even a the tiniest scratch, I'll maim you."

Rin huffed out a "Daddy!" before Inuyasha flipped him off. "I know how to take care of my girls!" With that, he grabbed them both and bolted for the door.

---IK---

Sango knocked on the door to the Higurashi house, panting. She expected Miroku to answer, but when Kikyou opened the door, Sango squeaked. "O-oh, K- Kikyou. I was expecting Miroku."

The newly, expecting mother laughed. "I see. Well, even though he doesn't technically live her anymore, you're welcome to come in. He's actually eating us outta house and home."

Finally catching her breath, Sango laughed as she was led through the door. Miroku was indeed in the kitchen eating Kikyou out of house and home. When violet eyes landed on his woman, fork half way to his open mouth, he dropped said fork and ran to her side. "Sango. Please tell me you didn't mention anything to Inuyasha."

Closing her eyes and leaning back, Sango wiped spewed bits of eggs off her face. "Miroku, say it, don't spray it!"

Miroku covered his mouth and finished swallowing. "Sorry, love."

Kikyou handed her a napkin. "Did you tell him?"

Thanking her for the offering, Sango shook her head. "No. I left as quick as I could. You have to understand the guilt I feel for keeping this from him. He is so happy, I mean disgustingly happy, and he gave me a bonus for Christmas and I can finally pay off my car-" Sango rambled as the other two looked at her as if she was growing another head. "-it's killing me! He finally found someone to make him happy, really happy. And since his mother died, he finally found his Christmas spirit again. Inuyasha is a lot of things, but being common sense smart isn't one of them. For the love he hasn't figured out Kagome is his secret santa-" She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth as Miroku's fell open.

"Excuse me?! Kagome is the one whose been giving him all these gifts?!" Miroku shrieked like a harpy. Sango and Kikyou nodded. Violet eyes widened and he pointed an accusing finger in her direction. "You knew too?"

Kikyou lifted her arms in a shrug and nodded. "I did, but so what? I'm her twin. She tells me everything."

Her cousin was having none of it and growled. "That story got her a new job, away from us, you know." Again the twin nodded. "I'm happy for her too, but did she plan this out all along?"

Kikyou smacked him upside the head. "No, idiot. Kagome just wanted to show Inuyasha the Christmas he had forgotten. He's the one who brought her home nine years ago during that blizzard that almost stranded her to the campus."

Sango's brow lifted up as she looked to Miroku for confirmation. "The one she fell in love with?"

"Yes. The job was just as much a shock to her as it was to us. Let her figure things out." Kikyou kissed his cheek. "I'm going to eat, if you left anything for me to eat that is."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

"And you better no have eaten my last donut." She warned as she made her way to the kitchen.

Sango jumped as his eyes suddenly widened and he grabbed her wrist hissing for her to run. He pulled her along to the door and started throwing on his coat and shoes. Sango was about to ask what was wrong when she heard a loud thud and a scream. "MIROKUUUU! You ate my donut?!"

Said man paled as he drug his girlfriend out into the snow. "You ate a pregnant woman's food?" He nodded. "What the hell, Miroku?!" She smacked him twice, just for being an idiot.

---IK---

Rin laughed as she hid behind a large tree in the park, large, white balls of snow flying in every direction. Peeking around the tree, she noticed her Uncle's back to her, -obviously he was honed in on Kagome's direction- and she let a ball of ice sail through the air. When it collided against his broad back, she stiffened when he stood straight and turned narrowed golden orbs on her. Rin squealed, ducking for cover. "Kagome! He's gonna get me!"

Inuyasha chuckled as he snuck up on her and tackled her to the snow with a tickle fight. Rin squealed harder, alerting Kagome to the attack. Inuyasha caught a glimpse of raven hair as Kagome darted behind a bench. "Silly wench, I see you!" He paused the attack on his niece to stare at her hunched form.

Kagome laughed as she stood up, right arm behind her back. "I know." With a wink to Rin, that went unnoticed, the eight year old giggled and shoved a handful of frozen water down her uncle's shirt. He yelped, jumping up unaware of his sneaky wench. Kagome let loose a string of snow balls she had pre-made to assault the half-demon.

"I was a diversion!" Rin yelled as she took off running.

Inuyasha growled playfully. "Oh yeah?" With wide, golden eyes, Rin gulped and took off running as fast her demonic legs would take her. Kagome stared wide eyed at the speed in which she was displaying and never noticed Inuyasha until it was too late. He barreled into her, tackling her and smothering her with swift licks to the neck and cheek. "Ew! Doggy kisses!" She howled in laughter.

Rin stopped to add to the dog pile, pun intended, and laughed with Kagome. When everyone caught their breath, Rin noticed something shiny on Kagome's scarf. "What's this?" She pulled back her hand to reveal silver, glitter-coated claws. "Glitter?"

Kagome shot straight up and tried dusting herself off, but it was too late. Inuyasha held up one end of her scarf and investigated the substance. He recalled the glitter from his gift he received only a few hours prior. When he finally put them together, he heard his brother's earlier statement in his head: "-I received a call from the Editor in Chief stating that her piece on your Secret Santa articles was in fact impressive. It sealed the deal." It sealed the deal  Frowning, he turned to her. "Kagome?"

She gulped, but smiled anyway. "I was going to tell you-"

"That you're my fucking Secret Santa?" She gasped as she sat back causing Rin to stand and move back at the flare of Inuyasha's demonic energy. Rin mumbled a quiet 'Uncle Ash?' before he too stood. "What the actual hell, Kagome?!"

"I was going to tell you, but being a Secret Santa is kinda self explanatory! It was a SECRET!" Kagome defended, standing as well, dusting off the snow coating her jeans.

"A secret my ass. You used me!" He howled, Rin backed away when she noticed the red seeping into his golden hued eyes. She sat on the bench Kagome had hidden behind earlier that day.

Kagome placed her hands on her hips. "What are you talking about?"

"You started the whole thing to get a story out of me! You only used me to get a promotion didn't you?!"

"What? No! I would never do that! I never expected anything from doing this-"

"Oh bullshit! You planned it from the moment you saw me again. Use the guy who was buying the Gazette so she could advance her career. Did you know I was back in town when you "ran" into me that day?" Inuyasha's anger was morphing from pissed off to sad fast.

"No, Inuyasha. Miroku told me to do a piece on the man buying the company so I could prove I was fit to do my job since you were buying us out."

He pointed a clawed finger in her direction. "You admit it! That fucking pervert told you to write about me! You just added a little glitter and girly shit to the mix! Clever girl."

It was Kagome's turn to fume. "Watch your mouth about my family! We had no idea it was you! I had no idea! Honestly. I just didn't want to get fired. The only reason I did the twelve gifts was to help bring back your Christmas Spirit, jerk!"

Inuyasha scoffed. "Yeah right. This was all a ploy and I can't believe I actually believed it. I can't actually believe I trusted you." He spat.

"Hold on a minute! I didn't think this would end up twisted-"

"Well, it did. Here I was falling in fucking lo-" he shook his head. "-no, you pull this shit. You betrayed my trust, and my feelings!" He pushed past her to walk away.

Kagome's eyes widened with tears at the sentence he almost finished. Before she could think, she scooped up some snow and threw a snowball, -hard- at his back. "You jerk!" Inuyasha stopped, but never turned around. "I never meant for this to happen. My feelings were real. They are real. I had nothing to do with the job. I never knew anything about it. In fact I never even agreed to take it. As for the gifts, I was just doing that for you. Inuyasha, please. I love you." The tears fell like a waterfall.

He stiffened, but soon shook it off. "Rin lets go." He reached for her hand and she hesitantly took it. Her eyes still pinned on Kagome's face, tears still streaming freely down reddened cheeks and her nose slightly damp.

"But, she said she-"

"I heard what she said. Did you hear what I said? Let's go." He growled.

Rin cringed at his tone, but nodded and followed her uncle quietly. She looked over her shoulder to see Kagome fall to her knees, hands clutched to her chest and still crying. She heard a faint whisper and by the look on Inuyasha's scrunched face, he heard it too.

"I love you, Inuyasha." Kagome watched as they walked through the falling snow to get in his truck and when the sound of his engine roared to life, she covered her face and howled out her despair. She couldn't possible watch them drive out her life forever.

It was at that moment the sound of shattering erupted in the air, Kagome being the only one who heard it. When she took a shuddering breath, she realized it was the sound of her heart breaking. It wasn't until several minutes later did Kagome drag herself from the snow and walk home.

Inuyasha. I have to make this right.

Inuyasha viciously wiped tears from his eyes as he refused to cry in front of his niece. Apparently, she was the only girl in his life who loved him unconditionally, for the woman he fell head over heels for, stabbed him in the back. He figured Kagome was walking back home laughing at how foolish he was for trusting her. "Who could ever love a half-demon like yourself?" He sneered when the thought crossed his mind. "That bitch." He hissed.

Rin sat quietly in the passengers seat. She knew he was just upset, that he really loved Kagome and this would fade soon. She reached over to touch his white knuckles gripping the wheel. Almost instantly, Inuyasha relaxed and held her tiny hand. No words passed between them the whole ride home.

Please, whoever is up there listening. Make this right. Uncle Ash and Kagome belong together. Don't let this be the end. Rin opened her eyes and smiled. Things would work out. She just knew it.

---To Be Continued---

I'm sorry. Like I said, I am not an angst writer. Until later my loves. Check back and see what the LAST day has in store for our favorite couple! ONLY one chapter left! Then I can finally finish the New years ficlet that I started on a month ago! Thank you for your patience!

[itsworn]

Brad Riekkoff Rebuilt his High School car with a 900HP Supercharged LS3

When William Shakespeare wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth”, he was unknowingly describing Brad Riekkoff’s relationship with his very first automotive love: a 1980 Trans Am he bought at age 16. Brad’s odyssey with the Pontiac began in 1991 with a trip to a local Jefferson, Wisconsin car show. He and his stepfather, Ike Roell, went there to find a suitable first car he could drive to high school and the lad was immediately drawn to the Trans Am, which was sitting on a trailer in the swap meet area with $2,500 written across the windshield.

“It was from Oklahoma,” recalls Riekkoff, “and had a very solid body. The engine seemed to run pretty good, but had a very bad exhaust leak, so it was noisy. We bought it, with my stepfather and I splitting the cost.”

Brad couldn’t wait to get home and replace the blown out header gasket so he could drive his cool new ride to school on Monday morning. Replacing the gasket went as smooth as a cashmere codpiece, but the fix revealed another, far more sinister problem.

“The obnoxious exhaust leak was covering up a bad rod knock, and this is where it all started!” By “all”, Brad means his love for working on cars, and ultimately, his path to West Bend Dyno, a high end speed shop that handles everything from late model tuning to complete builds.

Throughout high school Brad and his stepfather built several engines for the Trans Am. They also replaced the Turbo 400, installed 4.11:1 gears, and bolted on a nitrous kit. All things considered, the lad had a lot of fun with the car, and learned a great deal along the way. After graduating from high school in 1993, Brad had two vehicles- the Trans Am and a 1979 Blazer he drove to work every day. He couldn’t afford to keep both, so sold his half of the Trans Am to his stepfather, who put it into deep storage. In the ensuing years Brad started a family and started a business. Though the Trans Am was out of sight, it was never entirely forgotten.

“I had recently purchased a chassis dyno and started a part time speed shop called West Bend Dyno Tuning out of my garage. The local 4th of July parade was coming up and we decided to put a few cars and a float in the parade to represent the business. I had a thought and asked my stepfather if we could take my old Trans Am. The car still had the parking sticker in the rear window required at my high school back in 1993, and some of my personal belongings were still in the glove box! The fluids were changed and a few miscellaneous items were addressed and I took her out for a drive. The car was running great! I felt like I was 16 again and forgot that the old Pontiac did not like to be revved up past 5,500 rpm. Well a few burn outs later and the old bird had enough- it developed another rod knock!”

Modern LS engine swaps were just becoming popular at the time, so the crew at West Bend Dyno began the engine change. As the costs added up, Brad’s stepfather lost interest in funding it, so Brad took over the build and reached out to his suppliers for support. LS experts at Wegner Motorsports built a stroked and supercharged LS3 that produces 932 horsepower @ 6100 rpm and 938 lb-ft of torque @ 4,200 rpm at the flywheel on E85. To support all of that power, Wegner used a Callies Dragonslayer crank and Ultra rods fitted to Mahle pistons. Fully ported LS9 cylinder heads were assembled with Inconel stainless valves and PSI springs. With no good off-the-shelf option available at the time, Casey from Wegner built a killer front drive to work with the 3.3-liter Lysholm supercharger that includes a choice of four different upper pulleys that yield four different levels of boost. Aeromotive provided a fuel system capable of keeping the hungry LS engine fed. It includes an Aeromotive speed controller and Eliminator pump custom mounted in the stock tank. Fuel Injector Connection was tapped for 127-pound injectors. The squeezed intake charge is lit up by an ultra-reliable MSD system and waste gases are routed out via Stainless Works long tube headers, custom-bent three-inch pipes, and Borla mufflers. Lubrication is helped with a Daily Engineering dry sump system that uses Roots style scavenge rotors and spur gear pressure sections for greater efficiency. New wiring was sourced from Speartech and Painless Performance, and everything is kept cool courtesy of a large Afco aluminum radiator and twin electric fans.

With more than 900 horsepower on tap, serious driveline upgrades were essential. A twin-disk Centerforce clutch and Centerforce flywheel inside a QuickTime bellhousing channels the engine’s twist to a strengthened, Hurst-shifted T56 six-speed. The gearbox in turn spins a Mark Williams Chromoly driveshaft bolted to a 9-inch Ford aluminum Strange Engineering center section and, full-floating 35-spline Moser axles carry it to the wheels. Big Wilwood six-piston calipers squeeze 14-inch slotted steel rotors in the front, while four-piston Wilwood’s are paired with 13-inch slotted rotors in the back. Pressure comes from a 1 1/8-inch Wilwood master cylinder and a Wilwood proportioning valve. Forged Formula 43 RAD 10 wheels measure 18”x10” with a 4 ½-inch backspace up front, and 18”x12” with a 7-inch backspace in the rear. BFG g-Force Rival tires sized at 295/35ZR18 and 335/30ZR18 look right and do the job when called on to keep this car glued to the road. Mini tubs in the rear house the beefy tires without any rubbing.

To enhance handling, West Bend installed a Heidts PRO-G front subframe with Heidts suspension arms and spindles, and a Mustang II rack-and-pinion steering system. A Heidts four-link suspension setup, with modified mounting points to increase shock stroke, takes the place of Pontiac’s stock suspension in the rear. At all four corners, AFCO double-adjustable coil over shocks perfectly complement the Heidts suspension system.

Brad wanted to retain the general look of the Trans Am’s original interior, while trimming some weight and upgrading its functionality. He installed AutoMeter gauges in a custom fiberglass dash, Sparco EVO seats, and Ace Upholstery made door panels and a rear seat to match the front seats. Nick Gaylord, of Topline Design and Speed built a 12-point roll cage to increase structural stiffness, improve handling, and provide an extra measure of safety in this high-speed missile. The cage tucks nicely next to the body lines and even allows access to the T-tops.

As with the interior, Brad sought to upgrade the Trans Am’s body while keeping it mostly stock looking. Albert Melchoir of Carbon Kustoms supplied carbon fiber doors, front fenders, and front inner fenders, which collectively trimmed over 150-pounds from the car’s weight. To accommodate the big Lysholm supercharger, West Bend Dyno enlarged an original Trans Am turbo hood bulge. Jeff Miller, of Boyds Classics in Kewaskum, WI performed the body work and applied the paint.

“We worked hand in hand with Jeff,” recalls Brad, “to come up with the paint scheme for the outside of the car and the engine bay. We used a 10th anniversary paint scheme with a touch of carbon fiber on the hood, wheels and in the engine bay. The two-tone stripe along the bottom of the windows on the doors offered a perfect spot to list all of our supporting manufacturers logos that were printed by Randy Gremminger of Trend Setters.”

The build was completed in 2013, and true to his initial plan, Brad has run the car hard, both on the street and in organized competition. He’s also used it as a development and test platform for the Pro Touring parts West Bend Dyno sells and installs on customer cars.

“We’ve had respectable showings at many pro-touring events,” he tells us, “including the Optima Street Car Challenge and the Heidts Performance Challenge held at the Autobahn in Joliet, where we took an overall win. We continue to improve the performance of the bird as our shop test car, testing the products that we sell for pro touring type applications.”

Time is normally not kind to the beauty and exuberance of youth, as anyone who has been to their high school reunion knows, and the reality of one’s first love decades later rarely measures up one’s memory of her. There are however exceptions, and in Brad Riekkoff’s case, his first love looks and performs far better today than she ever did back in her high school days.

This 1980 Trans Am’s stock-appearing exterior belies the many performance modifications lurking under its skin.

Mini tubs enable the oversize wheels and tires that give this Trans Am its aggressively wide stance.

The understated nature of the blue and gray color palette contrasts with the extreme performance built into this Trans Am.

The high quality of Carbon Kustoms carbon fiber fenders and doors were a big help to Jeff Miller from Boyds Classics when he prepared the body for paint.

Heidts suspension on both ends delivers a pleasingly low stance.

Though it’s set up to maximize performance on a road course, this Trans Am is still civilized enough to drive anywhere.

With a 6-speed that goes from a 2.66:1 first to a .50:1 sixth, this car is as comfortable high speed highway cruising as it is on a twisty road course.

An OEM-style turbo hood bulge has been enlarged to clear the Lysholm supercharger.

Forged Formula 43 RAD 10 wheels and sticky Z speed rated BFG g-Force Rival tires provide maximum strength and grip.

Wilwood brake setup, featuring 6-piston front and 4-piston rear calipers, give excellent track and street performance.

The supercharged LS3 was built by Wegner Motorsports with forged internals, fully ported LS9 heads, dry sump lubrication, and an E85 fuel system.

Casey from Wegner Motorsports put together the engine’s drive system with four different size supercharger pulleys, allowing Riekkoff to dial in the level of boost he wants.

he surface quality of the carbon fiber inner fenders is apparent because they remain unpainted.

The interior still looks and feels largely stock, and thus remains a welcome reminder for Riekkoff of what it felt like to drive this Trans Am during his high school days.

AutoMeter gauges, 12-point cage, and Sparco seats and harnesses increase the car’s effectiveness and safety on both the track and street.

The post Brad Riekkoff Rebuilt his High School car with a 900HP Supercharged LS3 appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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Enjoy our “Reflections” post — one of many vignettes and stories featuring memories of days gone by. This installment is from David H. McBride, a Laurel, Mississippi native, who currently resides in Senatobia, Mississippi, and writes frequently for “The Oxford So and So.” 

If you would like to contribute your own Reflections story, send it, along with photos, to hottytoddynews@gmail.com.

The 14th day of July, 1952 was a milestone in my young life. I turned 15 years old that day. Just after breakfast, and after the usual Happy Birthday greetings, and a gift of some sort, most likely a shirt or a new pair of blue jeans, my father instructed me to put on a nice shirt, comb my hair and come with him, as we were going to get me a driver’s license.

I had been driving for at least a year, albeit with no license; so off we go to downtown Laurel. The driver’s license office was on the back side of the Civic Center, on Ellisville Blvd. The state trooper who manned the little office greeted my father by name, and said, “what can I do for you?”

Pointing to me, my father said, “My son turned 15 today, and he needs to take over as the family errand boy. I have been teaching him to drive, and he is a calm good driver.”

The trooper handed me a little booklet of about six pages and said, ”Read this.”

When I finished, he gave me a little test on what I had read, then we went outside to the car and drove around the block and parked at the curb, went back inside, and he wrote out a paper driver’s license card.

I was a legal driver and the official errand boy for the McBride family, Mother to work, Granny to the drug store and beauty shop, my older sister to all sorts of social events (even though two years older, she could never cope with the cranky old stick shift Ford), younger brother to Boy Scouts, etc., younger sister to ballet lessons, etc. I was one happy teenager, with a full schedule of trips every day.

Having a radio in our car was very important to teenagers in the ’50s. There were several radio stations in the Laurel-Hattiesburg area, (this was before the advent of FM Radio), so we could twirl the dial and find our favorite station. The local stations all went off the air about 10 or 10:30 p.m., then the real stations came on the airwaves, 50,000 watt clear channel stations blasting all over the South, playing the beginnings of Rock and Roll, WLAC Nashville (always the favorite) WLS Chicago, KWKH Shreveport La. KAAY Little Rock Ar. And best of all XERF, the voice of Del Rio Texas, which was so powerful, they had to move it across the border into Via Acunia, Mexico. But still broadcast as Del Rio Texas, these stations played the music we wanted to hear, Rock and Roll, mostly black artists. The local stations would not play any black artists; so we had to wait till ‘late nite’ to hear our music, Big Joe Turner, The great Johnny Ace, Ivory Joe Hunter, Little Richard, Chuck Berrry, Fats Domino, Ike Turners band with Jackie Brenston singing ”Rocket 88” was the first real Rock and Roll song. 

But then in July of 1954, the real deal burst upon the scene, uninvited and unannounced, Elvis Presley hit like a tornado, a wild-eyed, twisting, howling, monster: every parent’s worst nightmare… hips swiveling, Royal Crown Pomaded, a nightmare to all good staid church-going folks, sounding like a wild man, flailing around, hair flying singing and playing “That’s all Right Momma” and “Blue Moon of Kentucky.”

We were done in. We were sold. Our Moses had arrived.

In early May, 1955, I graduated from high school and had a few days to loaf before going to work for the summer, when one of my buddies pops up with a handout flyer telling about the third annual “Jimmie Rodgers Memorial celebration” on May 25 and 26 in Meridian, Mississippi, honoring the “Father of Country Music” the great Jimmie Rodgers.

“Ok, but why do I care?” Was my flippant reply. 

“Look,” my pal pointed down the page, Elvis Presley will be there and play at the American legion Hall that night. 

Wow. He had my full attention. Wednesday the 25 is a Barbecue with Elvis playing that night, Thursday the 26 is a parade, and Elvis will play at the Junior College Stadium later. I was sold, since Meridian is only about 60 something miles up highway 11 North, and I had made the trip several times, and it was an easy one-and-a-half hour trip. 

We began making plans, three of my buddies wanted to go so we split the gas four ways, and I took my 1950 Ford, and early Wednesday morning headed out.

After an uneventful trip, we found the area where the celebration was held; however, so had 10,000 other people. 

All the barbecue was sold before we got any; so we settled for a Coke and a pack of nabs for lunch, but as luck would have it, we wound up close to where Elvis and his group was hanging out. 

Elvis had on a Gold Lame’ suit (which matched his Gold Cadillac) with a gold lame’ tie and white buck shoes. His hair was slicked down and combed over to the side. I was surprised that he and I were about the same height, approximately six foot.

I had thought he was taller. He had several zits on his face. I guess at age 19 that was not unusual, but I had thought he would be perfect. 

Later, we went to the American Legion Hall for the show. Elvis put on a great show, did encore after encore, did “Baby lets Play house,” “I’m Left, You’re Right, Shes Gone,” “Milkcow Blues Boogie,” “You’re a Heartbreaker” and many others. 

We stayed till the last encore, and straggled out, vowing to be back the next day for the noontime parade.

The next day, a girl I had been trying to get a date with, showed up at a friends house; and after some conversation, agreed to go out with me. So, I called my pals and canceled the Meridian trip. I rationalized that Elvis might be a flash in the pan, and I could see him around most anytime I chose, and he would always be available to his local fans. Oh well, shows what I know about the career of a world-class entertainer. The next time I got to see Elvis in person was at the Hilton International in Las Vegas, and cost several hundreds of dollars instead of the $1 I paid at the door of the American Legion Hall in Meridian, Mississippi at the “Jimmie Rodgers Memorial Celebration” on May 25 of 1955.

Later, I learned that 60,000 people showed up in Meridian on Thursday the 26 for the Parade and show.

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