#in a world where everyone around her bathes in the blood of the innocents for sport

[shiryawashere]

every time I see a post along the lines of "I support my blorbo they did everything wrong and when they did I cheered and hollered and I love them" and my gut instinct is to think "haha yeah I love Maeve my dysfunctional killer blorbo so much" but then whenever I see my moots applying this logic to Agatha Harkness, an objectively horrible person (affectionate), and I try to think of something actually bad that Maeve ever did I am struck by the uncanny realization that my blorbo is a fucking saint

minus the murders of course but like, to be honest-

[nyaerysfics]

Skoros Lo…? Chapter One.

The life of a Targaryen was one of comfort.

That was a fact Daemon had known since he was a small boy, still attached to his father’s hip. No man or woman in the Seven Kingdoms went against the King’s son— or grandson for that matter. And since his father had become heir to the Iron Throne and the King’s Hand, and Daemon a Prince of the Realm?

The world had truly been his oyster then. Lords and ladies bent to his will, threw themselves at his feet and begged for his favor, though he hardly gave it, he knew the art of exclusivity.

Admittedly, Daemon cared little for duty, or his ugly wife in the Vale for that matter. He knew he would never be King, even after his brother ascended the throne.

Being the Prince of Dragonstone was always a fleeting inheritance for him, though he didn’t mind. Long days listening to the problems of lords he didn’t give a fuck about, long council meetings when he’d rather be cock deep in some silver-haired whore? No thank you, he’d rather be in Lys.

So was he surprised when his brother replaced him with a little girl? No.

He could tell everyone thought he would turn into some kinslaying beast and slay his brother and niece, take the throne and become Maegor reincarnated, but for what? They thought he would spill his House’s blood with so few of them left?

So he bent the knee and called his niece the Princess of Dragonstone. He actually didn’t mind being cast aside— he had no interest in being King, and now Viserys would stop bitching about him showing up to his small council meetings. Being King sounded like a life sentence but the Queen’s beloved uncle? He would bend the knee to Rhaenyra a thousand times more.

So Daemon went and made his own path, far from his elder brother's influence and judgment. He ate and drank what he pleased, fucked whomever he wanted, slept where he wished and traveled as much as he liked though he did miss his little flame, Rhaenyra, more and more as she grew older and he missed more and more milestones.

Gods have mercy, she was so amazing Daemon couldn’t help but send gift after gift, treasure after treasure. She deserved it, as her uncle saw it. Youngest dragonrider in our House history , he mused when he heard.

A fitting feat for his darling niece, who burned so fast and bright, the two could not help but have a deep connection, for they were the last true dragons alive. They were both smart, mercurial and overly sarcastic, something Viserys tried to shame out of the two every chance he got, but couldn’t.

Charming, aggressive, funny— rude. Uncle and niece were created of the same things it seemed. So it wasn’t surprising the Prince acquired chests full of coin and plenty of enemies and even more friends.

Influential ones, too, such as the Prince of Pentos, who paid his friendship back tenfold, even supplying him Rhaenyra’s favorite gift. The entire ride home atop Caraxes he was shaking with the anticipation of seeing her face as she opened her gift, the once Empress of Leng’s owed prized jade tiara.

She’d been so happy, just four and ten and still capable of such innocent, childlike joy it made Daemon want to keep her locked in a tower, away from lesser beings.

After damn near tackling him, and throwing her legs around his waist, in a very unladylike fashion mind you, she’d told the whole of the room she loved her kepa more than anyone in the known world, before pressing kiss after kiss to his face. It was fucking hilarious to see Viserys’ screwed up face as he watched her joy overflow, but that wasn’t why Daemon did what he did.

Daemon bathed Rhaenyra in gifts because she was the only person in his life that made him feel anything anymore— whores and wine lose their potency the more you utilize them, he had come to realize. Nothing compared to the bright eyes of his niece is upon him and when he returned from across the Narrow Sea.

He used to have his brother, but since their father had passed, Viserys had become a different man. He didn’t trust Daemon, as if he would ever do anything that would harm his kin, his beloved kin. Viserys and Rhaenys— and their children by default, meant more to him than anything and Daemon would have rather fallen on Dark Sister than harm either of them but not one of them fucking appreciated it. Both of them had turned their backs on him. Why? He didn’t know.

His father had raised him to be loyal to House Targaryen, and that is what he was, lest his Father smite him from the Fourteen Heavens.

All Daemon ever wanted was his family in power, on top. While he didn’t want the burden of the crown but he did want to alleviate the ails that came with it. He wanted to be his brother's sword and shield, but all Viserys saw him as now was a headache no matter what he did.

Viserys had long fallen into favor with the Hightower brothers, and so, thought his own was the second coming of Maegor or whatever bullshit Otto shoved down his throat.

Rhaenys never forgave him for not supporting her claim at the Council of 101 AC, hated him even, for raising a small army against her and Laenor.

Even Aemma thought him an insolent, childish mess even though he was a year older than her.

But his niece? She made him feel human, like he was capable of being loved despite what everyone else around him said, despite how they treated him. Rhaenyra saw the best in Daemon, and defended him against anyone— even her King and father. While she was the Crown Princess of Westeros Daemon would be treated like the Prince he was. She made sure of that, and he appreciated her.

Daemon was a Prince of the blood, grandson of King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alyssane, son of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, brother to King Viserys I. Being a subjugator was in his very blood and these Andal fucks thought they could disrespect him in her presence? These men were fucking idiots.

He was the rider of Caraxes and he was afforded a certain level of respect based on the fact that not a man who spoke against her uncle would do so to his face. No, they tuck their tails and fall in line in his presence and yap like pups when his back is turned.

Rhaenyra thought it an offense to the very blood that flowed through her own veins. Were she and Daemon not made of the same flesh and blood? Was she not a reiteration of the worst things a Targaryen could be?

If she wasn’t, as her father claimed her to be, then she wanted to be. She wanted to be like Daemon. Her aloof, lost, dear uncle. She loved him, adored him, favored him and he felt the same way. No matter what he brought, even if it was just himself, Rhaenyra paid back his gifts in reverence. Their blood called to each other— in some sick, beautiful twist on familial love that made her parents so fucking anxious.

Rhaenyra absolutely worshiped her uncle, thought the sun rose each morn because he bid it to and when he left it was as though her world stopped spinning on its axis.

Even Syrax would be irritable at Daemon and Caraxes’ departure, which just made Rhaenyra feel worse, if that was even possible.

The Princess would barely eat or ride Syrax for the first sennight, the Fourteen said to forgo what you love the most if you wish for your prayers to be heard, and what did the girl love more than food or her dragon? Just her uncle.

Viserys absolutely hated their relationship, because Rhaenyra was overindulgent, something Daemon and their father Baelon before he passed, had instilled in her from birth. It didn’t matter what the girl asked for, Daemon would get it for her— be it a new bow, fancy cut jewels, silks, books, pets.

It didn’t matter. If it existed and Daemon was alive, his sweet girl would have her heart's desires.

He had once gone as far as procuring a rare, beautiful lemur his niece had once seen in a science book. Little Valyrians, they were nicknamed for their silver fur and wide, purple eyes.

She hadn’t even asked for one, just simply commented on their beauty and went on with her day, never giving the lemur another thought. She had been so shocked when he revealed what had taken him from her for an entire moon, and even she admitted it was worth the wait, for she had never seen a more beautiful animal.

Well, besides Syrax, that is.

The King had raged and bitched after, berated Daemon for his bullshit gifts he used to win the heart of the girl who was supposed to love and worship her father not her uncouth uncle.

To make it worse for the King the girl was fully aware her uncle would do anything to make her happy and took advantage of it. She wasn’t subtle, either, but who could blame the girl for liking gifts?

She was the heir to the Iron Throne, and she did not get the moniker ‘The Realm’s Delight’ without receiving a few treasures.

Plus— any girl in the Seven Kingdoms would give up a hand to be gifted something from the Prince Daemon. Rhaenyra, as extraordinary as she was, she was no different in that respect.

One of her favorite gifts was jewels her uncle brought back, for everyone at court knew who had laid them on her skin. She wore the finest gems and metals the known world had to offer— and it was nothing less than what she had come to expect.

She demanded gifts, even from Daemon. After embracing her dear uncle upon his eventual return, she promptly asked where his favor was, to the point where he always carried a small gift on his person when going to greet her.

Daemon wasn’t offended by the girl's materialism though, no.

Not when he himself had grown up spoiled and cared for— the favorite if you will, and he hadn’t even been a Prince in his boyhood. She had never known a time when she wasn’t a Princess, and he knew she would be spoiled rotten, his little dragon.

His reign as the favorite ended with the girl's birth, just a week before his own, and it had been a breath of fresh air for he and his father, as well as the King and Queen, who had suffered so much loss. He was happy to pass over the title, though his grandsire pulled him aside and told him he’d always be number one in his heart.

One look at Rhaenyra in Jaehaerys’ arms and Daemon knew that wasn’t true.

Because of her and her infectious joy, Daemon had gotten his father back for the last few years of his life and for that? He was eternally grateful to her and would get her the moon if she asked for it. All he wanted in life truly, was for his niece to be happy and safe, her days full of joy and light.

Had he started to appreciate the fullness of her bosom or the curve of her backside before he should have?

Yes. She was the prettiest little thing, his niece was. A Valyrian violet ripe for the plucking and he ached to be the one who had the pleasure. He loved her fire and wanted to be doused in it, wanted it to char him to the bones if only that meant to be wrapped in her embrace.

He’d, shamefully, wanted her since he returned for her two and ten name day and found her flowered and budding beautifully. She was so beautiful back then— young and very petite, but she caused his cock to fatten better than any whore and it only got worse as she grew and spread out. The older she got, the deeper his desire ran.

Where her breasts had been mouthfuls, they were now handfuls, and he longed to feel the weight of her in his hands. Longed to see what she hid from his eyes under the layers of fabric intricately woven gowns she donned, so he did. It was easy to slip behind her rooms and watch her undress and bathe.

It was wrong he knew, to invade the privacy of his three and ten year old niece, but he couldn’t help himself— it was like an impulse he couldn’t control and it’s why he found himself in Maegor’s passages more nights than not, watching his blissfully unaware niece prance about for his viewing pleasure. It’d been two years of restraint on his part— he couldn’t take much more.

When he wasn’t lurking about behind his nieces rooms with torches, he was buried inside a silver-haired maiden he’d made call him kepa.

So no, Daemon didn’t know what he had done to deserve such a life as the one he had— not because he was a Prince of the Realm, he wasn’t anymore and hadn’t been for many years.

He didn’t mourn his loss in station, because there wasn’t one, that was the thing about Westeros, everything was for fucking show. Viserys didn’t understand that he was a Prince of the Blood, and that wasn’t something he could take away with a simple word.

He was a Targaryen, a thoroughbred Valyrian and he was more than a crown, cared for more than a crown.

He had been Rhaenyra’s uncle for five and ten years, and now he would be her husband. So fucking what he wasn’t called Prince Daemon anymore. He would recoup his losses by bloodying his cock with her purity. Rhaenyra’s father, clearly, hadn’t meant for this to turn this way, both Targaryens had been betrothed to the Velaryon siblings, but what was the saying?

Men plan, and the gods laugh.

Viserys had planned and planned and planned and it had been for naught in the end, for the gods had shown their favor to his younger brother, giving him life's truest blessing indeed, a wife of his blood to carry on his line with a purity only she could.

The Lord of Flea Bottom, at the ripe age of one and thirty decided a five and ten wife would do him well, mayhaps it would keep him young, he thought. All it took was some of Caraxes’ scent on his palm and a well placed rock, and nothing stood in the way of the Prince’s aspirations of a niece-wife.

Rhaenyra would be grateful, he was sure, to be free of her father and not stuck in a loveless, passionless marriage with Laenor Velaryon, where she would surely be forced to bare bastards. He would treat her well, both her heart and that hot, little cunt between her thighs.

All he had ever wanted was a wife of his own, someone who could understand him and love him regardless of the darkness that surrounded his soul, who could look past his worst deeds and still hold him at night. If anyone was that woman, it was Rhaenyra.

Aegarax had said it clearly, ‘Do not forget, nor turn away from the words of my mouth. Do not forsake her, and she will preserve you; love her, and she will keep you. She will place on your head an ornament of grace, a crown of glory she will deliver to you. For her proceeds are better than the profits of silver, and her gains more than fine white gold.

She is more precious than rubies, diamonds or pearls, and all the things you may desire cannot compare to her. Length of days is in her right hand, in her left hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her, and happy are all who retain her .’

That was all he wanted in life, truly.

Not riches or land or titles— he wanted to protect his blood and keep it pure, for it was his Father’s before it was his. Six and ten years was not an unreasonable age gap, ask Viserra from beyond the pyre. Though, Viserys’ new wife was one and ten years younger than him and the King looked like fucking death warmed over.

He knew some Andal bitch’s cunt didn’t have the same therapeutic properties as a purebred Valyrian, though.

In the end Daemon absconded with his niece during the week of festivities, just after winning the tournament and naming her Queen of Love and Beauty, and before her wedding to Laenor Velaryon and took her to Dragonstone to take her as his wife.

He was successful in his plot, of course, wedding the girl before the Fourteen gods of Old Valyria and bedding her promptly, and well. She was as eager, if not more then he was, clawing off his clothing and demanding his seed in the depths of her body.

When the King summoned them back and threatened him with annulment, Daemon laughed in his brother’s naive face.

“We bound our blood before our ancestors, we swore vows before the stars, Viserys, not the Seven. That old crow can’t come up here and annul this union. The girl is mine, Viserys and trust me— I’ve had her.” The King’s face bloomed a red deeper than the most expensive ruby at his brother's crude comment.

The smirk on Daemon’s face could only be taken as mocking, his amused chuckle ringing through the throne room. He had tried to make sure they could hear his niece's pleasure all the way across the Blackwater, and he had succeeded.

The King couldn’t go anywhere without hearing men remarking on how she is Alyssa Targaryen’s granddaughter and he— Baelon’s son. What a pair they made, the uncle and niece… husband and wife.

“You’ve ruined her you fucking twat! Have you no shame in that black heart of yours?! What lord will have her now?!” The King screamed at him. How dull was he? Heavens above. “Have you always been bitter that I handed your titles to her? So much so that you would seek to weaken your own blood?! I should take your fucking head and be done with all this stress you constantly cause me!”

Daemon wouldn’t give his brother the satisfaction of reacting to something he would never actually do.

Plus, there were only five Kingsguard between him and the King, and Daemon loved those odds. Dark Sister could cut through them easier than a hot knife through butter.

“She is mine to ruin. And I’ll burn your precious Seven Kingdoms to the ground if you insinuate another man having my wife again,” his brother responded, his grip on the pommel of his sword crushing— something that didn’t escape anyone in the room. Didn’t Viserys fucking get it? Daemon would run Dark Sister through whomever he needed to, should they stand between him and his wife, his niece. “To. The. Fucking. Ground.”

In the end Daemon Targaryen was stripped of his titles, cast out, left with only his surname to navigate the world beyond the Seven Kingdoms.

He’d been officially exiled across the Narrow Sea, never to set foot in King Viserys’ land lest he wish for his pretty head to roll. He didn’t mind much, the city smelled of pure shit— and there wasn’t much he cared about in King’s Landing beside Rhaenyra and they would not be separated.

It was all very… theatrical, Daemon thought. Petty. Fitting for his cunt of a brother, and in no way a shock for Daemon like it was for his wife.

It was well known to Daemon and the smallfolk alike that Viserys had been itching to get rid of him for years, it was only a matter of time before he found something to throw the book at Daemon and banish him forever, Daemon just decided he would get something out of the deal for the first time in their lives.

What the King hadn’t thought of was Rhaenyra and her loyalties. Viserys was a fool not to see what was happening in front of him, convinced Rhaenyra would truly turn her back on her husband— her uncle .

She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Either or… it didn’t matter.

Daemon had her undying loyalty, he’d always had it, and she would never betray him like that, make him feel unwanted or unloved.

No.

What was a throne to a Daemon’s love? To true companionship, friendship? Acceptance? Why would she give that up for a life of unhappiness under the hateful gaze of her stepmother? She wouldn’t.

Rhaenyra left with her uncle, renouncing her claim on the Iron Throne and abandoning her titles as well. She’d had no choice but to, given Daemon’s exile. She wouldn’t live without her uncle, without her husband. It was unthinkable.

She had long been vocal about how much she dreaded her uncle’s frequent trips abroad, and he was her husband now. Did the King truly think they would be separated? Or that she would take a second husband?

Try as the King might to maintain his grip on his daughter, Viserys had to let her go. She was a dragon, she had a dragon and she wouldn’t be chained.

She would fight tooth and claw to get back to Daemon’s side, her father knew. When he asked if she’d visit she told him only if her husband was welcome, so in short, hells no. She turned and walked right out of his life, like she was never even there.

Viserys wanted to say it hurt to watch Rhaenyra choose Daemon, but he’d been watching it for five and ten years, and by now he knew he would always be second to Daemon. He wanted it to hurt, but really— he wanted to forget.

Somedays, as he sat around his dining table, looking in the faces of his wife and children, he wished he hadn’t known what life was with them there, at least it would hurt less.

He wouldn’t have to think of her with Daemon, probably laughing at his naivete, at how they fooled him, ran away to leave him in the shadows, ever the fool.

The pair circled the Free Cities, Caraxes and Syrax, their ever faithful companions and mounts by their sides. Daemon wouldn’t couldn’t keep his hands off of his niece.

Rhaenyra preferred Lys while Daemon had always been partial to Pentos. They turned eyes wherever they went, reports most certainly getting back to the King.

So yes, the King was finally free of his menace of a brother, but at what cost? His beloved eldest child, gone, never to return based on her loyalty for a man who had ruined her! A man who continued to ruin her reputation, sordid details of their escapades flowing through the Seven Kingdoms like rivers.

It caused the King to lose sleep at night, thinking of how smug Daemon must be, nights wrapped in the arms of his darling daughter. It was unfair, and the whole of court felt her absence with every snap of the King.

He had turned irritable, mean and mocking— because the whole Seven Kingdoms, hells, probably all of the known world was laughing behind his back.

Viserys can’t even command his household, how can he command Seven Kingdoms?

The Seven have frowned upon the Targaryen’s time and time again. When will they learn?

Another Saera, another Viserra. What is new?

This is why women were not meant to inherit. Why won’t he just name Aegon his heir?

I’d wager the Queen is pleased with this turn of events. Perhaps now her princeling will be heir.

Have you heard of their exploits across the Narrow Sea? I guess the Free Cities do not have things such as modesty. Fitting for Targaryens.

How could they embarrass him in such a way? Leaving him behind, alone now, since Corlys and Rhaenys were upset with him. He had no true kin around him, not a silver hair in sight that would protect him and why? What had he done to deserve such a fate?

Aegon wasn’t meant to sit the throne, it was meant to go to Rhaenyra— to Aemma . He needed her blood on the throne, she deserved it after what he had done to her. So he sent raven after raven, emissary after emissary to no avail.

He told her his brother was a rogue, a promiscuous man who would drag her to the pits of the Seven Hells. The King contended Daemon was a lecher, a lascivious man who would never be faithful to her, that she would live her life as no more than another whore in his harem.

But Rhaenyra knew the truth of her husband, of his heart. His wants and desires. All Daemon had ever wanted was love and affection. His whoring and drinking were no more than attempts to cope with his own insecurities and unhappiness. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He had love— acceptance and he would never betray Rhaenyra in such a way.

Furthermore, the two were never apart. When would Daemon even have time to be unfaithful? Between the bed and the privy?

Daemon was so cunt struck by his wife that if you looked up the word in a dictionary his portrait would be right there, his face covered in his wife’s slick.

He had loved his niece since she was born, he would never hurt her in such a way— and his niece knew that, never doubted his loyalty or listened to her father

So the two lived in peace, in bliss, in love wrapped up in each other, unwilling to let Viserys ruin the happiness they had created for themselves. Daemon showed her everything she’d wanted to see, bought her whatever her eyes laid upon, and served at her whim.

She had no need for Jaehaerys’ crown, not when Daemon made her feel like a Queen without having to suffer for it.

The former Princess was having a glorious time being spoiled and loved by her uncle, though it wasn’t much different to how entire life had gone, spoiled, loved and doted upon by the once Prince. They traveled to a different place everyday, slept somewhere different each night, and did what they wanted to.

Just as Daemon had told her, it was incredibly freeing to be able to do what you want, when you want. She didn’t have to worry about the politics of court, she could just be— they could just be.

She could kiss her husband whenever she wanted, duck into a deserted corner, pull up her lace skirts, fuck her husband and not have to worry about propriety or decency or the stupid fucking Seven.

It was liberation , and she found herself letting go of years of resentment she held towards Daemon when he was flying off, always leaving her behind.

He had always promised to take her with him one day, show her the pleasures that existed beyond her fathers heedless grasp. And now she understood— why he left so often.

Her father was controlling and pious and left no space in a room for joy. Rhaenyra had no idea why her father hated his brother so, or why he treated him so poorly that he felt the need to distance himself from his very blood.

She had no idea.

What she did know was she never wanted to go back to the Seven Kingdoms. Back to bondage, to scrutiny. Back to face the committee of vultures who wanted nothing more than to rip her flesh from her bones.

But Daemon had, for her.

He always came back home, never missing her name day, the anniversary of her taking to the skies on dear Syrax or her mother’s death, arms full of jewels and gems, books, instruments, weapons— full of comfort.

He always came back, and that alone filled her heart with so much joy it bled through her very skin. It was easy to feel unloved by her father, for she knew for all his insistence that she be his heir, the decision came from a mix of his guilt over his hand in her mother’s death and his rejection of his brother. He’d wanted a son, not a daughter.

She hadn’t been the Crown Princess of Westeros because her father believed in her, no. She was the salve to a wound he gave himself.

In this life, the one she built with her husband, she was able to freely feel joy, and didn’t have to dampen herself for the fools around her. And her dear husband loved seeing her like that, happier than she’d ever been and glowing.

Daemon loved their lives as nomads on dragonback. Well, until she told him she was with child, about four moons into their marriage.

It really shouldn’t have been surprising to Daemon, they went at it like rabbits and he spent himself into her cunt literally every chance he got, but somehow he was still shocked.

He wondered how fast the news made it to his brother. Viserys certainly had spies, though how effective they were, he had no clue.

It was probably best to get out of the public eye and into a more private dwelling. After all, there was no need to make the job of those on Viserys’ payroll easier. If they wanted to follow he and his wife and report their comings and goings back to the King, they would have to earn the coin they were paid.

So he reached out to his ever-accommodating friend, Prince Reggio, who set him up on an island he owned with a small, five and twenty room castle, named Ivyhall Estate, run by a small staff. It was secluded, private, right up Rhaenyra and Daemon’s alley.

Rhaenyra was overjoyed, of course, ready to start their lives as a true married couple. So far, she felt like a courting couple, minus all of the toe-curling sex.

There were caves on the north side of the island Caraxes had worked hard inside to build a nest for Syrax and himself. Daemon found it cute, the way Caraxes liked to decorate with sheep bones. There were no sheep on the island— and those bones were freshly charred but sometimes ignorance is bliss. He would choose not to think about how Caraxes procured such gifts for his mate.

Courtship feeding was not exclusive to dragons, but they certainly did it the best.

Daemon, at first, worried about how pregnancy would treat her, given her father but Rhaenyra had melted right in, and won the hearts of the servants here, too. She looked so beautiful, full of life and glowing, waddling around like a Northern ice bird he’d seen once on a diplomatic trip to Winterfell.

He loved her, adored her more than any man had a woman before. She was everything to him, his home and his heart in one. It was a glorious feeling of belonging, one he hadn’t felt before even though Rhaenyra had always blatantly favored him.

He had a family now, a wife with a child safely beneath her heart, growing and forming— a blessing. One of the truest forms.

It meant so much more that regardless of her fears and apprehensions she was excited to bear his child. Not because they needed an heir, but because she loved him. She loved him so much she wanted a babe that was half of him, and she was willing to risk her life to get it.

She knew Daemon would never butcher her the way her father had her mother, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t still perish in the birthing bed, as her mother and her mother did before her.

She felt blessed in that way, for she knew her value didn’t stop at her womb in her uncle’s eyes. And blessed they were.

During the year 114 AC, Rhaenyra gave Daemon three perfect sons to carry on his name. Her twins were first born, Aegon and Viserys, both born with lavender eyes and the white-gold hair of their father, named for their kepas, and were both given eggs from Syrax and Caraxes’ latest clutch.

Their parents were delighted when they hatched, Aegon bonded to a beautiful black dragon named Aegarax, and Viserys to a red she-dragon, Tyraxes. Daemon named Syrax, it was only fitting he name their sons dragons too.

Both eggs hatched in their cradles within days of each other, but Daemon and Rhaenyra couldn’t remember which happened first. First-time parents' brain fog, they attributed that to. It didn’t matter either way, this was a sign from the Fourteen and Daemon was glad about it. Let all see how fruitful their union was, in sons and dragons. None could say their union was cursed.

Next came their youngest son, Maekar, born only ten moons after the twins. While he wasn't a mistake— Rhaenyra would never allow him to be called that, his conception could be blamed on two flagons of well- aged Dornish strongwine Daemon imported in celebration of the births of his twin sons.

Daemon was always over indulgent with wine, so much so that his wife often said his patron god had to be Caraxes himself, god of drunkenness, so that wasn’t surprising that he was ridiculously drunk. Rhaenyra had abstained from wine for her entire pregnancy, so she was slightly out of practice and drank way too much.

Things obviously went too far, and nine moons later they had a third son born in the eleventh moon in the year 114 AC. He had heterochromia iridum, his right eye green and his left violet.

He was the quietest babe out of the three, for he rarely fussed. No, he was more content to gaze at his mother whether he was suckling at her breast or laid on the featherbed turned to the direction of his own sun.

Daemon had cried when he saw his son, and thanked his wife over and over again for the chance to see his mother again. He was so in love with his son, absolutely besotted.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel this wave of emotions when the twins were born, this pregnancy was high risk and he worried day and night over the fates of his wife and unborn child. The labor had been hard, but his niece had fought through it. The relief of them both being alive and well made Daemon want to make an altar to worship Meleys.

Maekar’s egg didn’t hatch, in fact, it turned to stone almost immediately. Daemon and Rhaenyra weren’t particularly worried about it, though. They were certain he would mount a dragon in due time. All of their children would have dragons with their blood in their veins, the blood of a true dragon was, indeed, thick.

Daemon and Rhaenyra were dragonriders but even in that, they were set apart from their kin, their relationships with their dragons rare. Cradle born dragons were exceptionally rare, and to have not one but three in your family? It was unheard of. Three out of five was not bad.

Aegon and Viserys took after Rhaenyra so Daemon decided Maekar would take after him.

Everyone said Daemon had Alyssa’s personality, he might just see his mother in the flesh again. She had claimed a dragon too, like Daemon, an unridden one at that. Maekar would too.

So no they weren’t worried, Daemon had claimed his right to the skies and so would Maekar and every descendant of them after. It was foretold by the gods, he was sure.

Daemon was glad when he was born, that both he and his mother were in perfect health for Maekar would be their last babe.

He saw no point in pushing the gods… what more could he want than three sons to carry on the Targaryen name? They had done well. They had done way better than Daemon’s simpleton brother, getting his Andal whore fat with medicore babe every chance he got.

Rhaenyra had resisted, of course, but he wouldn’t hear it. After her last pregnancy he was ready to be done with babe-making. He had to ask himself, would he rather his wife or another babe? The answer was simple for him.

They didn’t need anymore small feet pattering around, mischievous, fair-headed demons ransacking the castle for shits and giggles.

Their days were full enough, three sons in less than a year? Their hands were too full, if the bags under Daemon’s eyes the entire year after Maekar’s birth were any indication.

It was now the tenth moon of the year 122 AC, their youngest son, Maekar, now was just a moon shy of eight years old, and as bright and happy as his older brothers, now eight themselves.

Daemon’s mornings all started the same, much to his enjoyment. Maekar in his face shaking him insistently, his little voice with the cutest, purest Valyrian accent.

That was another freedom that came with living on this side of the Narrow Sea, their house was an almost fully Valyrian speaking house. Common was indeed rare in Daemon’s household.

“Kepa,” he’d whisper, his nails scraping his father’s skin, careful to not wake his mother. “Kepa. I am hungry. Can we break our fasts?” All this boy thought about was eating, Daemon swore.

Daemon rolled over and cracked an eye at his beautiful son, each time he saw his son's eyes, he fell in love. He grabbed his son, hauling him over the edge of the bed before he started pressing kisses all over his precious, cherubic face.

“Hungry are you, my son?” Daemon was less concerned with Rhaenyra’s sleep, she could sleep through a volcanic eruption. “Then we must get you fed, huh? Are your brothers up yet?”

The boy giggled before settling down on his bare father’s chest, “I think Aegon is. Vis kicked me out of his room,” the boy pouted. Daemon would talk to the boy.

“Alright. Come, let us go down to the kitchens.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra’s lives in Pentos were so different from the ones they lived in Westeros. While they still had cooks and servants, one hundred percent of the childrearing was done by Daemon and Rhaenyra, even the feeding of her children when they still consumed breast milk.

She didn’t mind it, didn’t find it to be a chore. It made her closer to her children, closer than she would have ever been able to her sons if they had lived in King’s Landing, where maids did most of the work.

Boys weren’t supposed to be seen loving their mothers, that gets them shipped straight to another Lord’s castle to be fostered and turned into real men. Her children would have been ripped from her, entrusted to lords she didn’t fucking trust. It was better this way, with this life. Her boys would flourish now that they were free of the burden that was the crown. Everything was so different here. So easy.

Rhaenyra and Daemon bathed themselves and their children, and if Rhaenyra ever needed help getting dressed, it was her husband who assisted her.

It truly was a simple life compared to the one they left behind. The one they barely even talked about with kids, beside who their mother and father were and the station they kept.

Viserys hadn’t officially stripped Rhaenyra and named his son Aegon as his heir, but neither one ever meant to actually ascend the throne, they didn’t care how much their brother wanted to drag his fucking feet.

Daemon couldn’t step foot in Westeros and Rhaenyra would never leave him, so what options did they have but to be happy with what they had?

They both figured he would eventually name his son as his successor, and as every year went by and he didn’t— Daemon knew how much of a disappointment his son must be. His long awaited son by that Hightower whore and he hadn’t named him heir in over eight years? He had to be a royal fuck up. The boy probably reminded Viserys of his younger brother.

Daemon had been so scared, in the beginning of their lives together. So worried she’d resent him for her loss in station, the loss of her legacy but she assured him their legacy would be one known for eons.

And she was right, Rhaenyra had both the three brightest boys— and all three, Aegon, Viserys and Maekar had taken to the skies on their very own dragons. All three were seven when they took to the skies, little dragonriding prodigies like their mother.

Aegon, their eldest, rode Aegarax, a temperamental and rash dragon— the best kind in Daemon’s opinion and Aegarax took after Caraxes in that regard. ‘Ill Tempered’ is what they'd named the hatchling when he was barely a year old. But he was never like that with Aegon, he was gentle, loving.

The two took to the skies during the third moon of 121 AC. He had no saddle— something Rhaenyra almost fainted over but it was what it was. She wouldn’t deny her hatchlings the sky, no matter how much the thought put fear in her heart.

Viserys was next, the very next moon, ascending the skies on a red she-dragon, one he named after his father’s dragon, Tyraxes. She was more like her mother, Syrax, laid back and as calm as a dragon can be. Basically, the opposite of Caraxes.

Tyraxes wasn’t saddled either, but because the dragons weren’t chained they grew quickly and fiercely, even Syrax and Caraxes. Their spinal plates were easy enough to grab and Daemon had five pairs of the highest quality riding leathers along with gloves made to aid them in the skies.

Maekar was another matter entirely. He didn’t have a cradle born dragon— he’d had to claim one. But how? There were no unclaimed dragons in Pentos, and none of the other eggs in the clutch had hatched.

Daemon assumed once he was older he would be invited to King’s Landing and the King would surely fall in love with all his sons, but especially Maekar as Daemon did. With eyes like his, Viserys would be overwhelmed with love and would shove an egg into his arms.

There was no need, however. His son was exceptional and silently commanded a dragon to cross the Narrow Sea to be claimed. Daemon had sensed something off with his sons, who had told him for at least a sennight prior to that fateful day, that his dreams had been weird. Maekar’s father now knew that his son could warg into his dragon's eyes.

In the seventh moon of the year 122 AC, The Cannibal descended on the island, immediately gaining the attention of Caraxes, Syrax and Aegarax… all kept their distance, though.

Tyraxes was enjoying a sheep Caraxes had brought her and could care less about all of the commotion— he was a doting father. So long as Viserys wasn’t out here, her attention was on the charred sheep.

Maekar promptly claimed him and took to the skies, even though his mother nearly had a heart attack on the ground.

The Cannibal was re-named Aeraxes in honor of all his favorite dragons, he simply wouldn’t condone the usage of that ignorant name commoners had named him.

Caraxes, Syrax, Aegarax, Tyraxes and now Aeraxes. What a beautiful family.

After recovering from a panic attack, Rhaenyra demanded Daemon follow behind them on Caraxes, in fact she told all three of her sons they were not to fly without one of their parents escorting them. Syrax and Caraxes had grown quickly while being unchained as well and had outgrown their saddles.

They had been worried about Aeraxes but Maekar assured them he had spoken to him and his mount promised not to hunt their dragons. How he was so sure— no one knew, but Daemon trusted him.

Part of Rhaenyra wanted to ask the King if she could commission some since the saddle maker was a Crown employee, but Daemon asked her not to. He didn’t want anything to do with Westeros or Viserys.

Over the years, Daemon had grown bitter towards his brother in a way he never had been.

Was it so wrong that Daemon wanted a Valyrian bride for himself? A Targaryen woman at that? He loved his family, he would die for his family. When Aegon and Viserys were born, it was like his entire life turned upside down. When Maekar was born his heart gave out.

Of course Daemon wished for a daughter, but no child was worth Rhaenyra’s life. If the Seven had gotten anything right it was that gluttony was a grievous sin and he would not lose her over his love for his children.

And he did love his children. A father’s love truly was something. Having children with the woman you love must make you love the children more. He’s seen men not spare their children a second glance— he couldn’t imagine doing that. He wants to spend every minute of every day in the company of his wife and sons, he delighted in their company that much.

Word from Daemon’s spies in King’s Landing said all of four of the King’s childrens eggs had turned to complete stone and none had claimed a dragon yet, a bad omen from the gods.

He often hoped the King knew, hoped his own spies were good enough to share the good news. Three sons, Daemon had sired— and all three were dragonlords.

He’d put three sons in Viserys’ favorite child, and she’d begged him to. He really hoped he knew. He wanted that more than anything.

“I want bacon.”

Daemon rolled his eyes, “When do you not want bacon?” He asked the silver haired boy in his arms. “When you’re asleep? Or do you dream of bacon too, boy? I wouldn’t be surprised if that is what filled your head while you slept.”

“No I don’t dream of bacon, kepa,” he giggled as they descended the stairs to the kitchen. “Last night I dreamt of my dragon.”

This caused his father’s brow to shoot up, always keen to hear what adventures he embarked on that evening, “And what did you see?”

Daemon’s heart fluttered as he closed his eyes and the sweetest, most serene smile fell upon the young Targaryen’s face. “I see through his eyes, I think… he’s lonely. He wants for family but everyone is scared of him.” His brows furrowed at the thought, and his eyes flashed open, indignant as ever. “They don’t need to be scared, he isn’t scary. He’s just… big.”

He cupped his son’s cheek and kissed him, “Unfortunately, not many non-Targaryen’s think the way we do. They’re scared of dragons— but that isn’t always a bad thing. It keeps lesser men in check.”

Just as he finished his sentence, two other boys came barreling down the stairs, shouting and pushing each other.

“Hey! Hey! Cut it out,” he put Maekar down and grabbed the collar of Viserys and pulled him apart from Aegon. “Or there will be no flying today. Call my bluff if you will.” That got them to promptly fall in line. “I swear, you two fight worse than cats and dogs.”

“Master Daemon, boys! Good morrow,” the head chef Syren greeted the lot of silver haired intruders. “Come to place your order?”

“Good morrow, uh, yes. What do you want, boys?”

Viserys shrugged while Aegon pondered it.

“I want eggs and bacon and potatoes and honey cakes!” Maekar exclaimed. Daemon looked over to his sons in a silent question. When they didn’t speak out against their younger brother's choice he smiled at the kind chef. “Muña wants fruit,” he looked up at his father.

“Eggs, potatoes, bacon and honey cakes, please. Oh, and a bowl of porridge and fresh fruit for the lady of the house.”

“At once, master.”

He quickly shuffled the boys upstairs to dress them. First Aegon and Viserys and then Maekar. All three boys lived in connecting bedrooms with a shared bathroom which makes things so much easier for their parents to dress them. It usually was Daemon who dressed them before they ate, but only because Rhaenyra was the only one who could put them down at night. They were a great team. True partners.

Since the boys were eight and seven and fully capable of dressing themselves, Daemon was mostly there just to make sure the boys were bathed properly and their hair was done.

After bathing all three boys he oiled their skin and let that sink in while he picked out their clothes. Doublets and houppelandes did not work that well out here in the tropical climate, so they always forwent the outer layer.

One, two, three and all the boys are dressed. Thin black doublets and matching breeches for all three.

Next was styling their hair, Aegon and Viserys keep their hair lowly cut, not keen on the hard work it takes to maintain it.

Daemon had just chopped it off one day, sick and tired of the matted tangles he had to brush out after they ran around all day, so he oiled their hair and sent them on their way to entertain themselves while he finished with his youngest son.

Rhaenyra had been so cross with him, of course. “I made that hair Daemon! I created it, you can’t just cut it off without my knowledge,” she’d looked so sad and Daemon felt so bad. He apologized for a whole fortnight before she forgave him, stubborn girl.

Maekar was different— his little warrior. He was a Targaryen through and through and wanted nothing more than to look like his kepa.

He wore his hair in traditional Valyrian braids, the white-gold hair was well past his waist when loose now. His hair never came back tangled or unruly, no. His hair was his pride, but how could it not be? He was the most pious of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s children, and he abided by Aegarax’s holy word.

After getting his hair combed and oiled, Daemon expertly wove his son's silky hair into a single, long plait with a dragon clasp around the end of it to keep it together. “Go, now. Your brothers await you in the dining room.”

His son sent him a toothy smile, kissed his cheek and with that he was on his way to annoy his elder brothers, his braid swinging in his wake. Daemon made his way back to his shared bedchamber where his dear wife was still asleep. She had moved into his side, her face nuzzled into his pillow.

She always looked so beautiful in the early hours of the day, her braid fuzzy and frazzled, her lips plump and her cheeks full of color. Daemon palmed at her ass through the sheets before falling on top of her, pressing kisses into her face.

It took her a second to realize she was being crushed. “Ugh, get off,” she gasped under his bulk. “Daemon!”

He rolled off her with a chuckle, “Good morn.” She pushed at his shoulder while feigning anger. “Oh, do not look so upset. You have slept well past a respectable hour, sunshine. Your sons await your beautiful presence,” he kissed at her throat before getting out of bed. “Come on,” he said as he pulled on her arm.

“You are such a brute sometimes, by the gods.” She retorted as she slipped out of bed behind him, and after dabbing her face with water and a clean cloth, threw on a plush robe and house shoes.

“You don’t seem to mind it when I’m inside you, dearest. As I seem to recall, you’re always asking for it harder, rougher, deep —,”

“Okay! Let us be on our way,” the bloom of blush that arose on her cheeks, even after three children never failed to amaze Daemon. He didn’t get to stew very long in the feeling because now she was eagerly pulling him out of the door and straight to the dining room. She couldn’t help it, she was excited to see her sons and she had something very exciting to tell the men of her life. “I am famished.” That too.

Daemon was happy to follow behind her, her messy hair somehow making her look like a goddess. “Ladies first,” he smirked. As they made their way to the dining room they could hear their son’s boisterous voices ringing through the castle.

“Aegarax is faster than Tyraxes! She is lazy and plump and you are a liar!”

Tyraxes’ rider laughed, “She is way faster than your grump of a dragon.”

Maekar was gazing into a cup of mango juice, “What does it matter? My dragon is stronger and faster than both of yours combined,” he giggled deviously. “Muña!” At the first sight of his mother he ran and embraced her. “Did you sleep well?” He asked as he gazed up at her with his arms wrapped around her waist as Daemon sat down.

Cupping his face in her hands she grinned at her sweet boy, “I did, darling. How did you sleep?”

“Good!”

“Well. Maekar, well. You slept well,” his father interjected to fix his grammar.

“Muña, sit next to me!” Viserys called out, even though he hadn’t bothered to stand and greet his mother.

“My wife will be sitting with her husband, thank you very much,” he grinned as he pulled her to his lap. “Where would you like to sit, my love? The chair or my lap?” He sent her a dazzling smile that made her want to absolutely melt.

“Stop teasing him! I will sit by my son, ser,” she slid off his lap and rounded the table. “Good morn, my love,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead and sat next to him. Aegon, from across the table, gave her a toothy grin.

The servants brought out the food to each member of the small family who said a blessing over the food before they dug in. Rhaenyra’s porridge was perfectly tempered and seasoned. The boys seemed to enjoy their meals as well.

“So, I have news I must share with you all,” she waited until she had all fours attention before focusing on Daemon, the anticipation causing her to smile. “I am with child again!” She waited to see the joy overtake her husband. It didn’t. She turned to her sons. “You will have a baby brother or sister soon!”

“What?” Was all Daemon could muster.

This caused her to falter, she hadn’t expected this reaction from her husband. “I– Daemon.” She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t done it on purpose, her courses had stopped and then came the nausea and she knew a new babe was nestled in her womb, she’d been pregnant enough to know the signs. But her husband's look of betrayal on his face, as if she had to trick him into spending inside her, bothered her deeply.

“A new brother!” Viserys bellows out beside her, oblivious to his parents and the tension around them.

“Or sister,” Maekar remarks, his eyes glued on his mother. “Muña? What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, because in truth all is right. Their family was expanding and that was a wondrous thing, that was not to be looked over. Three pregnancies and she hadn't even really tried? Had Daemon forgotten her mother’s fate? Rhaenyra was young and fertile, she should be full of him every chance she got.

So what she had a few problems in her last pregnancy? Every woman dealt with something, it was unavoidable. If every woman stopped having babes after a few complications their line would have died out long ago. They were lucky to be in such a position and she would be damned if they would squander it.

“Nothing, love. I am very happy, as is your father. Aren't you, honey?” She hoped the grit in her voice was at a minimum, the boys were not as oblivious as they once were.

With his lips pulled in a thin line he agreed, “Of course,” his eyes shot daggers at his wife. “What a blessing.”

•••

“What have you done, Rhaenyra?” He has gotten her back to their rooms after sending his sons off so he may speak to their mother interrupted. “Answer me.”

“What have I done?! What did you do? I did not spend inside myself, I will tell you that.” This makes him scowl at her.

“Have you been drinking your tea?” He was speaking to her in a way he never had before— she wasn’t sure what to even say about that. Why was he so suspicious of her?

“What is your fucking problem?”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, “Maekar was to be our last child! We both agreed to such—,”

“Oh, no, we did not both agree, you decided and poured tea down my throat every day thereafter!” Rhaenyra wanted to carry a thousand of her husband’s children, she’d told him. So had his mother, he reminded her in turn.

His face twisted. “So you admit to being disgruntled.”

“Disgruntled? I am your wife!” Try as she might to keep her voice down, she was failing. “It is my duty to bear you children.”

“We left duty behind the Narrow Sea,” he seethed. “I don’t want to hear about fucking duty, Rhaenyra. You have a duty to the real, live children that you already have,” why couldn’t she see his point of view? Had both of them not lost their mothers in the same fashion? He wouldn’t lose her the same way. He couldn’t and here she was, tempting the fates. Why? “To your husband!” Gods forbid she leaves him with these three children and possibly a fourth.

“Daemon, nothing is going to happen to me, you must understand that. I am not going to leave you or our sons, do you hear me?” She took his face in her hands, angling his face to hers and looked in his eyes, silently pleading with him to believe her. “I would never leave you, Daemon. The gods themselves could not keep me from you. You must know that.”

All he could give her back was a pained expression. It was too large a risk for Daemon, and he had to bite his tongue to stop him from suggesting ending the pregnancy. There were ways after all, especially in Pentos but he didn’t think Rhaenyra would ever forgive for even uttering such a thing. He didn’t think he’d forgive himself.

“You don’t know that,” is all he could say.

“Daemon. I drank the tea, and still— we have been blessed with a child. By the gods! They would not bless us just to take me away,” her eyes are large and frantic, searching his face for any shred of happiness. “I know you wish for a daughter… Visenya? Can you not feel her?” She closed her eyes and pressed his palm to her still-flat stomach. “She’s right here.”

She needed him to be happy, or she wouldn’t be. She was but maybe two moons into this pregnancy, there were still seven moons to go and she didn’t want the castle full of strife and conflict. Daemon was a great father, and he was a great partner to have while pregnant.

She didn’t lift a hand nor foot, her husband always scooping her up so she didn’t have to walk on her swollen ankles and feet. Whatever craving she wanted, even ones he had to spend days traveling for, he got. She was spoiled, had been since birth and that definitely wasn’t going to change while she carried his child.

Two pregnancies now, and she couldn’t imagine a third without the same treatment. When she opened her eyes again she saw tears in his, “You don’t understand, Rhaenyra… how you looked. Your eyes lost their fucking shine. I almost watched you die,” he peeled her fingers off of him and turned his back to her. “The gods give and the gods take away. So is the way of life— and not even we can escape it,” he muttered sadly, flashes of his mother and hers playing behind his eyelids. Screams and anguish. He felt ill. “I cannot. You cannot.”

“Please, Daemon.” She was sick thinking about this, there was no point. The gods would do what they would. “This is a blessing. And this shall be our last. I promise.” She just wanted one more chance for a daughter— for Visenya. “Please, don’t hate me,” she sniffled as she watched her husband take a long inhale of breath.

His shoulders slumped as he released a large sigh, “Do not say that. I could never hate you, Rhaenyra,” he turned back to his wife and wiped the tears that had fallen down her face. “I am scared to lose you, is all. Please, don’t cry. I am happy, of course I am.” He wrapped her in his arms and soaked in the feeling of her pressed against him. And he truly was so happy, as soon as the shock and anger had worn off, elation crept in.

A potential daughter? With Rhaenyra? He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. “Visenya,” he whispered into her ear, pressing kisses just under her ear and palming at her supple backside more. True to Rhaenyra’s nature, she pressed into her husband more and wrapped her arms around him.

Though the thought made him want to cry, he really hoped this babe was a girl. His sons were amazing, beautiful, sweet boys that would carry on his legacy proudly. But a daughter would be his to love and spoil. A little girl that looked like her mother would break his heart and put it back together. He wanted that so badly.

“Really?” She sounded so hopeful he wanted to kick himself. Why he had made her feel so shitty while she was pregnant— he didn’t know. He was an idiot. He just held her harder.

“I love our children, any more would be welcome additions,” he kissed her before pulling back and placing his left palm back onto her stomach and pulled her towards him by the back of her neck with his right hand. The next kiss he places on her lips is soft, sweet. “I love you so much, Rhaenyra. Never forget that, my sweet girl.” The hand on the back of her neck tilts her head back so she can look into his eyes better. “Gods as my witness, you better not leave me.” He would reach into Balerion’s chest and take her soul back himself.

His words were serious, but his tone was light. So was the way of Daemon, mercurial and odd, but Rhaenyra loved him more than anything and she was sure it made her love her children more. She didn’t care about having to constantly reassure her husband, she vowed to love him unconditionally, and she would. How could she not adore this man after he freed her and gave her three of the most beautiful gifts anyone had ever received?

Alicent couldn’t be bothered to look at Aegon or Helaena for more than two seconds without a maid or her father prompting it, but Rhaenyra? All she wanted to do was look at and care for her sons. They were so beautiful, so bright— so talented. Daemon thought them to be the smartest boys in the world and both parents were sure their next babe would be just as amazing.

Everyday they acted and looked more like their father, and Rhaenyra loved to see it— encouraged it even. Daemon wanted daughters that looked like her, but she still hoped this babe in her belly would take on the personality of their father. And by the gods, she would be there to see it. “Don’t you worry.”

“I am excited, I am.” He pressed some open-mouthed kisses to neck before opening her robe to see her nightshift. “You are such a sight when you’re full of me,” his eyes were glued on her stomach. He could almost see how she would swell with their babe, girl or boy, it truly didn’t matter. The babe would be loved either way.

“You have been glowing, I suppose we know why now, huh? May I?” He didn’t wait for her permission before lifting her shift up over her head, her dusty nipples staring at him, his fingers unable to stop themselves from tweaking them until she twisted and yelped in pain.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed as he brought his head down to each of her breasts and suckled, to soothe the ache he’d caused. He couldn’t wait for her milk to come in, he loved the rich, sweet taste of her, and understood why her sons were so enamored with their mother. How could they not be? When she dribbled such nectar in their mouths?

Her gasps of pleasure rang through their bedroom, the unrestrained sounds bouncing off of the walls in earnest. “Daemon,” she moaned, her fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

(Thankfully the boys were down by the stables attending to their mounts, Aeraxes circling above or laid upon a hill watching, always ensuring the safety of his rider.)

Daemon hoisted her up and carried her to the bed before dropping her with a thud, her bare body spread out before him, his fingers tracing the lines that were the previous evidence of Daemon’s seed taking root inside of her imprinted into her very skin.

“Yes, love?” A hand shot out and grabbed her foot, bringing it up to his lips where he placed kisses on the soles of her foot and up her calf. Gods, he loved this woman, she was the greatest thing to ever happen to him. Her skin felt like the purest of silks to him, lightly dusty in the perfumed oils she used in her baths.

She was all but panting at this point, just a heap of sexual frustration and longing. Sex with Daemon was… life changing. The way he revered her, worshiped her. She felt like Syrax in the flesh— a goddess set apart from mere women, and that was when she wasn’t pregnant and exceptionally sensitive. Now? She was an absolute mess.

“Please,” was all she whispered, her lower lip grasped between her teeth before Daemon thumbed it free, afraid of her re-splitting the cut on her lip as she had done plenty of times previously. She was aflame with desire, her cunt was pulsating and leaking slick, all in preparation to take Daemon into the pits of her being. “Please, uncle, I want you.”

“Is that so?” His hand made its way to where his child laid, safely tucked inside the love of his life, willing it to be a girl. “And what is it you want, sweetling?” He smirked at his niece.

“Do not be cruel, kepa. Would you keep the woman carrying your child left wanting? I thought you a gentleman, ser,” while she loved the feeling of his hot hands on the thin skin of her abdomen, the feel of his cock inside her would always be preferred, and she had no patience to wait. “Are you not an honorable knight?”

Flames have mercy if she didn’t know exactly how to reach the depths of his soul, his cock, growing even harder in his breeches was begging to be freed, and who was Daemon to deny him?

“You are such a fucking brat,” he snided, his words were harsh, but his body sang another tune. Her words caused his pupils to dilate until his eyes almost were fully black, just barely ringed in that beautiful lilac that was so unique to him. “There isn’t anything honorable about me. You know that.”

“No, I’m your sweet girl,” she pushed stray hairs out of her face and sat up to unlace his breeches, eager to get to his swollen cock. When finally she pulls his appendage out, he’s red and thick— leaking his own slick all over her nimble fingers that she quickly licks away. With her tongue on the underside of cock, it jerked, a wave of salt coating her tastebuds. “Mm, see?”

Daemon had enough of wife and her teasing, pushing her down and onto her stomach before having his way with her.

•••

Nearly a year after the birth of their twin daughters, Visenya and Viserra, bonded to the dragons Vermax and Arrax respectively, Daemon and Rhaenyra received word from Westeros for the first time in a decade. It was not welcome or wanted by the former heiress, in fact if she had received it before her husband she would have burned the cursed parchment.

Laena Velaryon, wife of Lord Jason Lannister, had perished in the birthing bed, leaving behind two daughters and a newborn son. Her funeral would be held at High Tide in accordance with the Merling god, to which Daemon and Rhaenyra’s household was invited.

The flight would be long and dangerous, and with two one year olds? That added another layer of uncertainty for Rhaenyra, and they had no means to acquire a ship that quickly. It was all too rushed for Rhaenyra, having to leave the day after they received the message from Laena’s younger brother.

Rhaenyra was nervous and didn’t think they should go, there was no reason to uproot their entire lives and the poor girl had already passed. Daemon had been officially exiled, not just the petty words of his brother like previous times. But Daemon wouldn’t hear it.

I have to be there for Corlys and Rhaenys, he’d told her. They need me.

So Rhaenyra found herself back in the thick of court, full of faces she hadn’t seen in years, she hadn’t wanted to see. She wanted to be back home, where the faces she saw throughout the day were mostly those of her kin.

Of course, she had to see her father eventually, his face still as stone as Rhaenyra, Daemon and their five children were brought before the King in the Great Hall of Nine. Rhaenyra was a mess of nerves, Daemon looked bored and disinterested and the children were in their own worlds, fascinated with the decoration of the luxurious hall and everyone's attention. Everyone was fawning over her children and their beauty, and her two eldest sons were eating it up.

Rhaenyra was the first to speak, “My King,” she bent into a bow the best she could with Viserra in her arms, as did her sons and husband. “It is a pleasure to see you after so many years, Your Grace.” She tried her best to give a smile that could not be described as a grimace. “And you, my Queen.”

”Brother,” was all Daemon said.

Viserys looked broken and decrepit, his left arm entirely gone. Part of her wonders what has happened in their absence, the other part knows the gods punish men who turn against their brothers, and bless those who have been wronged.

Viserys’ eyes sweep over his daughter, now a woman, with wonder. She looks so much like his dear Aemma, he thinks. Especially with her daughter in her arms, the year old girl heavy in her mothers arms now. “Many years indeed,” he tries not to look his brother in the face. “Well, introduce me, why don’t you?”

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, she had been ready for her fathers disrespect, so long as they left with Daemon’s head intact. She grabbed Aegon on the shoulder, momentarily squeezing. “My firstborns, the Princes Aegon and Viserys Targaryen,” she beamed as her son turned and faced her, Visenya snug in Viserys’s arms.

“They both bonded to cradle born dragons just days after their births. Aegon is bonded to the dragon Aegarax, and Viserys to a she-dragon, Tyraxes,” their father beamed.

Maekar had tucked himself against Daemon’s long leg, his knight in shining armor, too overwhelmed with the noise and people for the first time that the King hadn’t got a good look at the boy until now. “And this is Prince Maekar, my third born. He claimed the Cannibal at just seven years of age, and renamed him Aeraxes.” Rhaenyra cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled at her brave son— perhaps they should have named him Baelon, she thought.

Daemon spoke next. “Our twin girls, Princesses Visenya and Viserra came last. Just as their older twin brothers, they too have cradle born dragons,” Rhaenyra smiled at her father but his eyes were stuck on Maekar. “Vermax and Arrax, in that order.” But it is if the King didn’t hear his brother.

“Boy,” he called to Maekar. “Come here,” he beckoned him forward with his remaining hand that the young boy ignored, planted in his spot until his father nudged him forward. “Let me see you.”

Alicent by his side was outraged, the lines on her face a clear indication at how much time the Queen spent frowning. “Princes and Princesses? How do you figure that?” Her hateful gaze was directed at his son and all Daemon saw was red. How dare this common bitch speak of their children in such a tone? He could slit her worthless throat right here, right now. He had no qualms about having to clean off Dark Sister— he would make Maekar do it.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, as you can see my wife and I have been very busy,” he nods to the five children he put in Rhaenyra. “We were under the impression that Rhaenyra was still the Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Across the Narrow Sea we did not hear of Rhaenyra’s demotion… nor did we hear of little Aegon’s confirmation. I apologize,” he watched as the bitch swallowed. “Unless… no such thing happened and Rhaenyra is still first in line for the throne— and my son Aegon second by default.”

He didn’t know why that bitch was opening her mouth, a consort was meant to be seen and not heard. For reasons like this. She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. “She is still the Princess of Dragonstone, is she not? Your little princeling must not be up to Viserys’ standards, huh?”

“How dare you—,” she squawked out.

“How dare you is the question?” He countered before the King cut him off, seemingly done with gazing at his nephew-grandson with his mother’s eyes. Down to the shades.

“Enough!” His voice echoed through the hall as everyone looked at him. “Everyone out,” he waved his hand. “Except Rhaenyra and my brother.” When Alicent didn’t budge Viserys didn’t make her. “The children must go.”

Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were sure about leaving their children in the company of people they didn’t know, and like he could read their minds, Laenor spoke up— his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will watch them, Rhaenyra,” he nods to Daemon. “They’ll be safe with me.” And they believed him. “Come, come,” he ushers the children out of the room and then it’s just she and Daemon before the King and Queen.

“A decade later you come before me, daughter.” He gave a fleeting glance to the side. “Brother,” is all the King says, his eyes back to being glued on Rhaenyra.

“Aye, a decade later,” Daemon nods, his lips in a thin line. “And many more after that, I promise.” He couldn’t wait for this fucking funeral to be over. He wanted to be back in Pentos, safe where their children called home. Not here, in a pit of coin and power hungry people, desperate to tear his family apart. “Do not worry. We don’t plan to stay, lest I wish for my pretty head to roll.”

“Husband—,” Rhaenyra cuts herself off, her hand gravitating towards his own, desperately trying to calm him. She understood his edge, she carried it as well, but they should not be upsetting the King. “Father, he only meant we mean no disrespect. We are here only to pay our respects to House Velaryon and then we will be on our way home with our children,” she tried to appease him.

“Oh, so it’s no problem to show respect to them, but to me, your own father— you spit in my face. Pentos is not your home! Your home is in King’s Landing— by my side,” he gasped out, slumped in his chair. “Both of you— by my side. Your rightful places,” he’s all but collapsed in the chair. “Where you belong,” he coughed and gasped.

“We belong where we have been for ten years. Pentos is our home, and that of our children, and that is where we shall return,” he rolled his eyes at his brother. “You won’t have to suffer my presence long, Your Grace.”

“Do not mock me! You left! I have been alone— forced to navigate that pit of vultures by my lonesome. All while you two live happily ever after,” he all but cried. “Rhaenys, you two. You have abandoned me! Betrayed me! Where is your fucking loyalty?! And now, even as I allow you back home, you spite me.”

Daemon would hear no more of this, Rhaenyra’s pulling palm all but lost to him as he stares at his brother. “It is you who has betrayed us! You exiled me, upon the threat of death. Death, Viserys. Your own brother. Damn right I left, what other option did I have? All I have ever wanted was to be loyal to you, to be your Hand! But you have never wanted my loyalty, just my subjugation.” He rolls his eyes. “What would father say?”

“Do not speak to me of father! You committed treason! What was I to do lest I look weak in front of the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. You sullied my only child!”

The look Alicent sends him is one of betrayal, what were the four children she’d birthed him? Chopped liver? “The heir to the Iron Throne, the future of our House. She was meant to be something , and you stifled her ambitions for the sake of your own, you selfish cunt,” he spit, his indigo eyes damn near black. “Every breath you take you is because I allow it!”

”She already was someone to me! She is everything to me and you sold her to make up for your own shortcomings with the Velaryons and I wouldn’t have it. She deserved more, she has more,” he seethed, his vein throbbing through the thin skin of his neck.

“My wife is happy, she is loved and adored. By me and our children alike. What more could you want for your daughter but happiness? Belonging? I alone have given her that!”

Viserys turns to his daughter, a pained expression on his face, as if already dreading the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. “And are you? Happy? With him?”

Daemon scoffs, rolling his eyes at his weak fuck of an elder brother, “She’s happy enough for me to put five babes in her belly. And still ask for more,” he said with as much pride as he had ever had and watched the King and Queen grimace at his crude comments. “Unless you two aren’t very happy. Four children, was it? Not a happy home, huh?”

“Watch your vile tongue before I take it, Daemon!”

“You would do no such thing,” Rhaenyra spit. She wouldn’t suffer threats to Daemon— she didn’t care who it was spewing them or why. “If all we will be met with is hostility, Daemon and I shall take our children and return home.” Her lips were pulled into a thin line. “He is my husband and the father of my children, any disrespect directed towards him is disrespect I take personally.”

“How many times must I say that isn’t your home?! I demand you return to your true home, by my side, Rhaenyra.” His eyes were pleading with her but she didn’t see it, too concerned with Daemon’s reaction to what the King had proposed. “I deserve to know my grandsons. T-the one with mother’s eyes… he’s…,” he doesn’t finish his sentence, just leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I wish to know them. Before I am gone from this world,” to which Daemon snaps, shocking all in the room.

“Don’t stay that, what the fuck is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? You must have to utter such nonsense,” he gives his brother a thorough once over, without the taint of unbridled resentment, truly looking at his condition. He looks awful, his hair falling out and his skin a sickly gray… gods have mercy. He was right. “We will… hire you some healers from Pentos…,” Daemon was already filtering through healers he trusted from the mainland. “But we won’t be returning to Westeros, Viserys. There is no place for us there.”

“Then there is no place for you, leave and never return! You ruin all that you touch!” Rhaenyra didn’t understand her father, he could have the most loyal man possible by his side but he insists on alienating him. It was so frustrating.

“You must return to the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenyra, to take your rightful throne,” he coughs again, his hands reaching for hers. “I am not going to be here much longer, and I cannot leave the Seven Kingdoms to your brother.” He leaned towards his daughter and extended a shaky hand. “Come back to me now, renounce Daemon and all will be forgiven. You will be back by my side, where you should be! Your children would be welcome additions to the Red Keep.”

“What?!” Alicent spoke for the first time, her face as red as Rhaenyra’s ruby necklace. “Still? After all this time you’re still clinging to the idea of your precious daughter by your dear Aemma?!” She’s screaming, no doubt alerting the whole of the castle to the disagreement. “She left you behind, Viserys, to frolic across the Narrow Sea with your younger brother, and still— you ignore my son, the one who was so long awaited by you for her! Why?! What have I done to you, what has Aegon done?!”

“I did not name Rhaenyra my heir on a whim! You and I both know that boy should not have Seven Kingdoms at his disposal, Alicent! He is a drunk,” the King spit, his tone dripping in disgust. “A rapist. No— he will not be my heir ever! Mayhaps had you raised the boy better that would be different but all you do is indulge the boy!” He cast one more look at Alicent before turning back to his daughter.“You are as useless as he is! I should have taken then Velaryon girl to wife,” he mutters.

“Rhaenyra, you know as well as I do, there are more…pressing matters involved— things that matter more than your personal ambitions! What will you tell your ancestors when they ask why our House lost the throne? That you would rather prance about the Free Cities? Drink a-and fuck your way through Pentos when you should be ensuring the survival of our House!”

Tears were streaming down the Queen’s face, her lips trembling and all Daemon could do was laugh, loudly. This was all for nothing. They wouldn’t be returning with Viserys, he didn’t give a fuck how sick he was. He had exiled Daemon, threatened him with decapitation and sought to deny him his birthright that was a pureblooded family.

But he wouldn’t be denied. He had five beautiful children, and his number one job was to protect them. Did that mean raising them in a cesspool of vipers and scorpions? No. It didn’t. So he wouldn’t. Their lives in Pentos were ones of love and happiness and joy and laughter and neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra wanted to change anything about how they lived.

He and Rhaenyra agreed they would raise Visenya and Viserra back at Ivyhall, for it had served them well. He wanted his girls to live freely, not stifled and sold off like lamb to farmers. They would be property of the Crown, not just people, not just his darling girls. Daemon could not have that. How could he look his daughters in their faces and know he’s sold their futures away the same way Viserys had Rhaenyra?

Viserys went on and on about how Daemon wanted his stupid fucking throne. Well he didn’t, he wanted his wife and children to be safe, happy, loved . And that wouldn’t happen in Westeros. It could have, but that would have required Viserys to give a fuck about something other than the fucking Crown.

No, a marriage to Daemon wasn’t that most politically savvy union, that was to Laenor Velaryon, regardless of his sexual orientation— Daemon could have still sired her children, her heirs. But that wasn’t enough.

He wanted to be more than her uncle and her lover in the shadows. He deserved more, he thought. How foolish of him.

“We aren’t coming back to fucking Westeros!” Rhaenyra exclaimed, cutting through the noise and reaching her father’s ears. “You would tear my children from their fathers arms? How could you ever think I would go along with that?!” Over Rhaenyra’s dead fucking body would that ever happen.

“Is that not what he did to me?! He ripped my dear child from my arms, smeared her reputation up and down the known world and laughed in my face! And to this man you give the entirety of your loyalty to— not your father, your King! A whoremongering drunk who has almost killed as many men as whores he’s fucked!”

“How dare you speak like that to me? Mind your tongue! You know not of what you speak,” she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “My husband and I decided we would not leave our home, no matter the proposition you laid before our feet and now that you have disrespected my husband and our marriage I do not even feel badly about it!” she tries not to frown as sadness overtakes her father’s features.

“I love my husband and our children more than anything in the world, and I have to do what is best for my sons and daughters. Daemon is a wonderful, dedicated father—,”

But her own father doesn’t care for all the sentimentality anymore, not now that she has turned down his olive branch, “How blind can you be, child?!” He screams at her. “He is using you! He has always been intent on being a plague to this family and you stand by like a fool while he does so! If I was a betting man I would wager he probably has a whore behind your back. Do not think yourself above his first wife, girl. Your uncle is not a faithful man, and you are stupid to believe he is.”

Rhaenyra would hear no more, turning on her heels and leaving the hall. She wanted to hold her daughters, see them.

Kiss her sons and board a ship back home where their peace was safe and guaranteed. Thank the gods the funeral was tomorrow and then they could be gone from the godsforsaken place.

She hates it here— not High Tide specifically but this toxic space where she only matters because of the hue of her eyes and the fairness of her hair.

Not because she is smart, or witty, or a good mother. She’s a means to an end, not a beloved child… a pawn. Weak and susceptible to manipulation.

With Daemon she was a Queen in her own right— powerful and mighty… a goddess. She feels like she can be herself, and be loved that way. She was more than her last name, more than her blood.

She doesn’t get more than fifty yards away from the door before she collapses in a fit of sobs, her husband not far behind her, catching her before she hits the ground.

“How can he say such things about you?!” She sobs, the finesse that is navigating court lost on her after so many years. She cannot even remember the last time she felt true sadness, not like this. “You are his brother, his blood,” she clutches at her husband’s doublet, her red face streaked with salty tears.

“You are a devoted husband and father, the best one I could ever hope for!” Her words are slurred and her accent thick, so much so Daemon can hardly understand his wife. “You are more than I deserve, and he speaks of you in such a way. It makes me fucking sick.”

It makes Daemon hate his brother even more, seeing his wife like this. Rhaenyra should never, ever know unhappiness or strife. She should never cry lest they be tears of joy. And here she is, crying in defense of his honor, something he didn’t even feel he deserved.

“Don’t say that, it isn’t true. And don’t cry, my love. I am unscathed, I assure you. My simpleton brother could never say anything to truly hurt me,” he thumbs at her tears. He isn’t shocked that she's beautiful even like this, a babbling mess of unhappiness, but he wants that smile back on her face, that dazzling one that makes his heart stop when he sees it.

“Knowing I go home to you every night would make even the harshest of criticisms fall by the wayside,” he presses his lips to hers, hopefully distracting her from the previous conversation. “Seeing our children heals all wounds.”

It does the trick and after a few minutes of hushed hugging and a few stolen, salty tears Rhaenyra is relaxed and malleable, just how Daemon likes her. Seeing as their children were being seen after, he pulled his wife to their chambers and intent on letting the whole of the castle know how well he could take care of his sweet girl, not caring about the glum mood that had infected the whole of the castle, or what they would say about his depravity, his lack of tack. He didn’t give a flying fuck.

He would make sure her father heard.

Rhaenyra successfully avoided her father for the rest of her time there, leaving only a single scroll for him before her unseen departure at dawn the day after the funeral.

‘Father,

I will not be returning, not now, not ever. My children may, as they all are bonded to dragons and may fly where they please. I am content with my life, as you always wished for. I hope you find solace in that, as I find it in you having the son you have always wanted.

Embrace him, father, and name Aegon your heir. I think it would do wonders for your relationship as well as your marriage. Embrace him because you must, lest you wish to hand the Crown over to the Velaryons. Impress Valyrian values on him, and he might yet become a dragonrider. Daemon was years older than your son when he did. Have faith.

He is but five and ten, and perfectly capable of reform, if you care. If you put in the effort. Shelter him and do not let his Andal relatives turn him from his blood, his legacy our House will be fine. I look forward to hearing the news of his ascension.

Daemon and I are happy, our lives full of light and joy and our children know nothing of pain or strife. That is how it will stay. My husband has already written ahead to the Prince of Pentos to gather his best healers. Know both Daemon and I love you, always.

Your daughter,

Rhaenyra Targaryen.’

•••

After returning to Pentos, the two lived in bliss as they had before they left for the funeral. Before long, their children were grown and married to each other, with the exception of Aegon, who went on to become a Valyrian High Priest, much to his father’s delight— and surprise.

He’d always though if any of his sons would become men of the cloth it would be Maekar, though now it was clear to his father he loved Visenya too much to take a vow of celibacy.

Maekar wed his sister, Visenya when she was six and ten, and he four and twenty. Daemon wondered if this is what Baelon and Alyssa looked like. According to legend they certainly sounded like them.

The only thing that stopped Daemon from murdering his daughter’s husband was the fact that he was his son. Gods have mercy.

Children came quickly for the two, and before long the two had a total of nine children and not a single multiple. First came Daemion, then Daenaera, Rhaegar, Aemon, Daella, Rhaenys, Aerion, Naerys, and lastly Daena.

Viserys and Viserra also married, mainly out of obligation— not pure desire like their siblings. That wasn’t to say they didn’t love each other, or their seven children: Gael, Maekar, Aelyx, Rhaenyra, Gaemon, Elaena, and Baelon. They did. They were close, too, they just had interests other than married life and having children. Having their parents around to help raise the children was a godsends.

Children of both unions married their siblings, with the exception of Daena and Baelon, cousins who married, and all rode dragons, whether they be cradle born or hatched dragons from Syrax’s clutches that grew independently from a rider.

By the time of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s deaths, they had six and thirty great-grandchildren.

After ten generations they had over 7,000 descendants that carried the Targaryen name proudly, and one great-granddaughter, nine times over, named Rhaella answered the call of Westeros when they were plagued with the scourge of white walkers.

She promptly took the Iron Throne back from the Lannister Baratheon King and restored the Targaryen Empire, with the help of her husband and brother, Daeron, as well as her other siblings and cousins.

She ruled as Queen until her death, when she was two and eighty. She was succeeded by her son, King Baelon I, and his daughter after him.

In the end, Rhaenyra’s blood sat the Iron Throne as it was always supposed to.

Se mōris.

Tag List: @snowprincesa1 (try not to be too lonely LMAO)

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Helloooooooo! We have seen some responses on a the ROs kids lover however as a cuban I want to see protective Latino mod activated!!!! How would the ROs react to their kid coming home crying because they got their heart broken?

Sorry this is bad. English is not my first language.

Hello!

No worries I got you! Being raised in a Mexican household I have witnessed many angry latino modes activated over the years lol.

Hope you like it! 💙

Cassandra: Ooh she mad. As pissed as she is going to be in a minute, her first priority is comforting her baby. She would hug them and comfort them first, tell them it's going to be ok. Once she wipes her baby's tears, angry latina mode is ready to be activated. Interrogation time as she starts fuming how she never liked them anyway and how they were not even worthy of her little boy/girl in the first place. She plans to in person chew them out and threaten that she better never see them around her child ever again, they had their chance and lost it.

Valeria: She honestly needs someone to hold her back she ready to beat that kid senseless with the nearest grabbable object. She sits down at the table with her kid and comforts them by talking mad smack, for the betterment of everyone involved the lover better not come around the shop. The whole family might start throwing hands, that or everything they buy is having mold in it. She will be so passive aggressive once her actual aggression passes. Sweet voice and face as she throws massive shade, all back handed comments.

Tomás: He has been waiting for this moment from the very minute they started dating. He is smiling and kisses his baby on the forehead as he tells them to leave it all him, he tells MC he will be back in the morning and if anyone asked, he was here at home all day. Comes back at midnight smiling and in the happiest mood you've seen him in since before the kid started dating; with blood on his shirt and sweat all over. Casually kisses MC and goes to take a bath, once he is out he is relaxed and goes to hug the kid to comfort them silently. When the local guards knock at the door to ask where he has been lately he is the face of innocence and actually sounds concerned when they say the kid's lover was found at the back of the pub beaten to the brink of death. He plays off the guards by saying he always knew the little shit hung around the wrong crowd and their "bad decisions" must have finally caught up with them. Once the guards leave he all but giggles to himself and goes to make the kids favorite dinner, he is so happy and honestly I wouldn't be shocked if MC was a little scared by how easy it was for him to pull this off.

-

Ludovica: Cries with her baby and laments that anybody could ever break their beautiful little heart. She tries to comfort them and suggests that they should just stay at home with her and not ever leave. It's safe at home, the world can't hurt them there. She would wish daily for the lovers downfall and wouldn't be mad if MC did something bad to them. Other then that she wouldn't do much but if by chance she ever saw them in person, if only looks could kill...

Aurelio: Comforts his kid by doing all the things they loved when they were little and by trying to make them laugh. He knows this is a natural part of growing up and while it hurts him to see his little girl/boy hurting; he knows it's all a learning experience. Would still get along with the lover if he ever met them again, he is very cool and not hateful. He would just never help them if they ever needed a job or anything like that.

Elio: He is very perplexed. He doesn't know how to process how he feels or how to properly handle the situation. On one hand he would like to throw boiling oil at the lover's face, though that would get him locked up; so that's a no-go. While on the other hand he would like to comfort his kid. He has never been the most emotionally expressive but he handles it like when they had nightmares when they were little. Quietly pats their back and listens if they need to talk, is very willing to shit talk with them if they need to vent.

[random-imagines-blog]

Seen How Things Are Hard {Remus Lupin x Werewolf!Child!Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2423 Summary: Twice in your life, your paths have crossed. Third time is the charm. Notes: Contains loss.

You were just a child. How could anyone not see that? The way that baby fat still clung onto your face. The way that the top of your head barely reached the shoulder of everyone else that was in the room. Remus felt so many things when he looked at you among the rest of these blood-thirsty creatures. The werewolf pack of Northern England that were undecided on where they stood, but needed to make a decision soon. Remus was there to try to sway them. But you - you had been there to spy on them. A CHILD. Did Dumbledore not have a limit? When was he going to stop using children for his own benefit, when this was a job that would have him, Remus Lupin, a grown man, trembling at the knees?

But there was nothing that he could do. He couldn’t even let his gaze look upon your innocent-appearing visage for too long. You were an outsider, new blood to these creatures. The ones that didn’t try to suppress their inner cravings or attempt to live as a human in the world. You were found on the outskirts of their perimeter. In rough shape according to the reports that he had picked up over time, and had been lucky for. And they had taken you in as a child that needed a family. You were lucky that they didn’t just eat you. Remus had no idea what had happened to your parents, if they were alive, what convincing it took to let all of this happen. He had to quell that, no parents would let this happen to their kid, they must not be around anymore.

What used to be the hard part of these meetings was having to confront what he was. He shared something in common with these people, even though people was a bit of a stretch. They all had the same problems. They all had similar scars, just in different places on their bodies. His was on his face. Yours, he couldn’t see because you were one of the few in the meeting wearing clothes. There might have been something on your legs, beneath the dirt from living in the woods for the last couple of weeks and only bathing in the river to get somewhat clean, but he didn’t look. He didn’t bring any attention to you lest it compromise your own mission. He might not agree with it, but he had to respect it. Now the hardest part was to override his protective instinct and just get you out of there. But he couldn’t give you the least bit of attention lest they suspect anything.

Walking away after the pack didn’t give their answer was the hardest thing that he had to do. He met up with Dumbledore and other members of the order afterwards and he couldn’t stop himself from shouting at the old man. It was the first time that he had ever raised his voice towards him. He’d been a most respected teacher. But sending out a student, sending out someone who was still going through puberty for Christ’s sake! Like Harry Potter wasn’t bad enough? Like keeping James Potter’s son in danger constantly wasn’t the worst of it, they sent you into the wolves den!

Albus took it calmly, which just made him rage more. It took Minerva McGonagall to take his arm gently. The stern look on his face brought back memories of being a teenager and made him feel like a sullen child again, sitting down, exhausted after a tantrum. She didn’t agree with this eitiher, he could tell by her face, the way that everything tightened up when your name was brought up.

“It’s in their hands now,” Minerva said, shooting Albus a look of her own, but sighed wearily. “I will send you an owl if anything to awry, Remus.”

-

Once a year. That’s all he got. A footnote on a letter from Albus. ‘The child is alright.’

The war was progressing and since Remus couldn’t count on the pack coming and helping them, he hadn’t been able to make more visits. They would make their decision or they wouldn’t. But he hoped, still. You were still in mind. He would hate to see you fall into the hands of Voldemort. He hated that this was still a thing. That children were being affected by something which they should be kept safe from.

Once a year. He watched Harry Potter and his friends grow up, grow from the little ones on the train to adults. Aged before their time because of the stresses of war. He had watched them go from youth to old souls right before his very eyes. And he remembered yours. He remembered the way that you had looked at him, not asking for help, but just taking in your new role.

He hoped the war would be over soon. He hoped that you would still have some chance at a childhood. A year or two before legal adulthood set in. But he lost track of the time. He lost track of the numbers. And before he knew it, there you were, standing in front of him. At Hogwarts, of all places. During the biggest battle that had ever been fought upon the school grounds. Somehow, your pack had come through. There you all were, fighting against the enemy. He was frozen in place when he realized that he couldn’t recognize you. He saw it was you. But there was no trace of the child. There was a haunted look behind your eyes as you used primitive magic. You had lost your education, and had ended up relying on the others to teach you what you needed to know.

Bright blasts came out of your wand. It looks like it had been broken a couple of times. It’s wrapped up in vines. The wood is two different colors, like half of it has been replaced. But it still shot out strong magic. A beam narrowly avoided him, making him snap back into it. With a welltimed curse, he took out a Death Eater. By the time he looked for you again, you were gone.

The war waged on. There were many casualities, on both sides. A lot of your coven seemed to go under. He saw the bodies, and then he saw you, standing among them. Reaching down to take hold of their hands. He wanted to approach, he wanted to come and say something, but the alpha of your coven came forth. Put his hands on your shoulders. You hugged him. Remus stayed back, as much as his heart longed to come and see you. He felt attached, somehow. Being a wolf and a teenager going through all of those hormone changes? He recalled it well. But it would be quite strange for him to come and embrace you in front of your coven. They might start to suspect something.

But you did catch his eyes over the man’s shoulder. You were standing up as tall as you could muster to look over it at Remus. And to his complete surprise, you winked, gave a little smile, and then turned your expression back to neutral as the hug ended and your werewolf brethern looked at your face. Remus looked away, looked down, and reality seemed to fall back upon him.

He had losses of his own. He lost his best friend, his wife. That broke his heart. Watching Molly go through losing one of her sons. Watching the people that he considered his closest friends and family losing so much. Was it weird to feel like he had lost you too? Now that the war was over, what was keeping you from returning home? He didn’t have time to ask.

-

He settled in at Grimmauld Place. Harry had offered him a room there to stay in for as long as he liked. He settled in Sirius’s old room. He had never visited during his school years. Sirius wouldn’t dream of putting anyone through meeting his family, meeting his mother. But those memories had been scrubbed clean and it became the headquarters of the Order. And now? Now it was just a home. Harry and Ginny were filling it with happy voices, with little loved ones. He was Uncle Remus, the oldest uncle, but a moniker he wore proudly all the same. He was the live-in uncle. The favorite Babysitter. Though it had been ten years, he hadn’t moved on from Nymphadora, and he didn’t think that he ever would.

These kids were enough for him. James, Albus, Lily. Ginny had told him once that if they had another boy, they’d give him the name Remus but he had shook his head to that, thinking that he had done nothing to deserve that. Neither had Severus, but that wasn’t the point. And he still had his anger at Albus, death aside.

“There’s someone at the door for you, Remus,” Ginny called from the living room. His ears had picked up on the knock but no one ever came to visit him anymore. Not specifically for him, anyhow. Ron and Hermione would have pleasant conversations, more so the latter, but they usually came from Harry or Ginny. He stood up from the table where he was enjoying a nice mug of tea and started to walk his way to the front door, curious as a cat. Minerva, perhaps?

No.

It was you.

The baby fat was gone from your face. You stood taller than you had the last time that he had seen you, when you had been hugging the alpha of your back. You looked nervous to be there. Continued to look at the number which was on the door. You nervously fiddled with your hands when you saw him.

“Come in, please,” Remus said, reaching to touch your shoulder. To see if you were really there. That you were alive, wearing a coat to fight off the early Spring chill of the city.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Ginny said with a smile, leaving the room, brushing Lily along with her, the little redhaired girl clinging shyly to her leg.

“Thank you,” You said, and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You took your coat off, and Remus offered to put it onto the coat rack. You were no longer the child that he had first seen. You were no longer the barely teenger that had charged head first into the war. In fact, you looked like you had left the pack behind, dressed like someone who lived in the city rather than the durs that the pack often wore. “Do you remember me?”

“Do I -” Remus asked, and then shook his head with a little laugh, his hand going to his cheek with disbelief. “I haven’t forgotten since the day that I saw you.”

“Oh,” You said, laughing a little. “Yeah, the same for you. The man that came to visit the pack after I was integrated. I could see it in your eyes, how much you disagreed. You’re lucky that the others didn’t.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” He said with a little laugh. He invited you to sit on the sofa, pushing aside Albus’s toy broomstick. You took the seat and looked around.

“Is that your wife, then?” You asked. Remus’s eyes widened and he looked back towards Ginny and let out a laugh, and shook his head. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you ever read the newspapers?” He asked. It was your turn to shake your head. “That’s Ginny. Harry Potter’s wife. I just live here with them. I - I lost my wife that night. In the war.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You frowned. “I lost the person who became like my mother that night. We  lost a lot of good people.”

“We did,” He agreed. Ginny came back out with a cup of tea for you, which you thanked her for, and then went to make herself busy elsewhere in the house. “What brings you here?”

“I’ve never forgotten you,” You repeated, hands wrapped around the mug. “You’re one of the first memories that I have. They wiped me, or rather, Dumbledore did, before putting me with the pack. I couldn’t give away a mission I didn’t know too much about. I couldn’t miss parents that I couldn’t remember. I did a little research, they died before my mission, that’s why I was chosen.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus frowned. You shrugged.

“Like I said, I can’t remember. But you... you stuck with me. I saw you sometimes, when you didn’t see me. After the war. I stayed with the pack for a while, they did become a sort of family to me. But I kept feeling like ... like you might need me. It was just something that kept on running through my mind. Looking back, you must have felt so much guilt at leaving me behind the way that you were forced to. I saw you in London. And ... and you looked so lonely, Remus. So I spoke to Minerva McGonagall, at Hogwarts. She told me how to find you. She agreed with me.” You looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes. “I left the pack. I’m looking for a new family. I was hoping you might like to be a part of it.”

You were so young. But you clearly weren’t looking for some sort of lover, some sort of husband. He felt something more akin to a father, or - or the uncle figure that he had become for the Potters, and the Weasleys. His stomach felt like it was stuck up in his throat as he forced a nod since he couldn’t form any other response. You smiled, and it was the brightest expression that he had seen on anyone’s face in a long time. Even in these post-war times. The tea mugs went onto the table, and he finally had the chance to scoop you up into a hug and protect you from the evils that had been thrust upon you while you were too young to comprehend. And you, you hugged the person who felt like a savior to you, simply because you had seen from  his very kind eyes that he was not like the rest. He didn’t make you feel like a child used.

He had seen you. And you were seeing him. And sometimes, a found family is better than blood.

[backandimbamon]

Bonnie playing with Damon's hair and he all sleepy 😊

this really took a while because… i was going to stop at the first half but i wanted to consider Bonnie’s perspective (: and then it got a lil spicy and i was like *sigh* why must you always take it there? but i mean- 👁- i always take it there because we were robbed!!! Damon is practically a self proclaimed sex god and i hate how they separated Bonnie from her sexuality, or really any form of intimacy for sooo long. and the scraps we got were NEVER enough. okay anyways yeah i’m finally done, like let’s get into it.

Damon notices that Bonnie touches him sparingly and really not because she wants to but because it happens accidentally every now and then, one of the perks about frequently invading her space.

Being stuck on the other side, there is less room for her and more for him, she’s in his world now which means it’s his duty to make her feel as uncomfortably comfortable as possible.

He notices everything; how her cheeks turn red when their knuckles brush against one another’s, how she takes in an exasperated little breath when their shoulders touch, how she rolls her eyes when he stands entirely too close. Damon hangs on to these moments because this may be his only form of female contact he’ll receive for a very, very, long time.

That is the only reason he hangs on.

Anytime she touches him intentionally, he feels a pride swell deep in his chest that he’s liked by Bonnie after a rocky road of ups and downs, fussing and fighting, he is finally deemed worthy enough for her to care about him even if it’s brief, even if it’s the smallest skin to skin contact imaginable.

And yes, he cares because if he has to spend the rest of eternity with one person, they might as well get along.

Movie night comes around so he rests his head in her lap, testing the waters, to see how she will respond to him. He senses her tense up a bit as predicted, but then she relaxes into it breath by breath like she’s doing a tricky yoga pose.

Bonnie’s body lotion makes her skin smell edible- cocoa and honey- she’ll never know but that’s why he nicknames her Bon Bon, she always smells good enough to eat. At this point, Damon can’t recall the VHS movie on the block of a television, his focus has been robbed by Bonnie and this new form of contact she allows him to try. Half of his smile sinks into the cotton of her leggings.

Her eyes never leave the screen when she laces her fingers through his hair, nails surfing through tufts of raven-black and the gesture is so shocking and embarrassingly arousing that a strangled groan gets trapped in his throat.

She panics, and he can tell by the change in her heart rate before saying. “Did I hurt you?” He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Hmmm mm, feels good,” he mumbles feigning casual so she can’t realize how he needs this so so bad that he’s fearful of it being taken away. In his mind he thinks about what if.

What if she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to tap dance on the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for two best friends. What if she remembers that he’s actually a terrible person who has done horrendous things to her and everyone she’s ever loved.

She shouldn’t like him or try not to laugh at his jokes. Not at all. Bonnie should’ve killed him a long, long time ago because if anyone could do it, it’d be her. He can see her now, all badass and angry with a wooden stake in her hand, vengeance in her eyes, the very last thing he’d see before his lights went out forever.

Bonnie, the giver and the taker.

Bonnie, the only god he knew.

Damon finds himself thinking so intensely lately that he checks the mirror more often than not to make sure he has no brooding lines like his little brother. Stefan’s expansive forehead has the room for it, his perfectly shaped forehead does not.

She laces her fingers back through his hair again and his eyes flutter, that’s how good it feels. It’s sensational. And while he’s had his hair pulled in and out of the bedroom, the innocence of her touch makes him want to melt. He finds his lids growing heavier, like how they used to do a century-and-a-half ago when he was human.

Running through dandelion fields in the overbearing Virginia heat, the sun up above sending heavy gusts of sunshine beams, a moment he considers to be oppressive now, used to be magical then- miraculous -and despite sweating through his britches and overcoat he never cared enough to stop running through the fields. The sun was the greatest thing all those years ago, back when white was his favorite color.

And after drawing a long, hot bath, he’d sink deep into the water while the bubbles floated to the top. Damon would close his eyes, hold his breath, see if he could break his prior record. Then he’d get out and the sleep would welcome him like any drowsy being, with open arms. And there he’d fall.

Bonnie has that affect on him. She makes him think of home, his past, when times were simpler and he was human.

He feels that exhausted sometimes, a boy who’s never stopped running through dandelion fields, whether it snows or rains or burns him alive. Her fingernails rake through his scalp- orange leaves on browning grass. Ruining Stefan’s piles for the fun of it. His lids droop. Tired of being consumed by himself, by Bonnie, he admits defeat this time. When he finally drifts off, he remembers that the Virginia heat gave him this same warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

“You really don’t know how good this feels,” his final words are hoarse before he drifts off but the last thing he sees is Bonnie.

The giver and the taker, the only god he knows.

.

Bonnie refuses to relish in the magic of the moment, the fact that it’s so rare Damon ever completely lets his guard down around her. She can always feel his eyes on her, constantly watching because Damon has a presence that’s inescapable.

Being so close to him when he’s extremely vulnerable makes her realize that in all facets, he’s stunning. A stunning that’s almost suffocating but with the dynamic they possess, he only needs to know that he’s not that much of an eye sore.

Now, she stares with wide eyes while she can, memorizes the smooth expanse of skin, every strand of dark hair. Relishes in the feel of his arms around her waist, the weight of his head in her lap. It’s been a long time since she’s felt a body besides her own and as much as she likes to ignore the fact, she has needs, needs that have swelled from being in the presence of Damon for too long.

He’s sexy without any effort, she examines. His dark t-shirt has risen and his pants are low enough that she observes the waistline of (silk?) boxers, taut muscle, navel, happy trail, yeah. Bonnie drinks him in like a cool glass of milk before bedtime- never has this much pretty been in her lap before. Her hands find their way in his head again, tousles through and he nuzzles up against her in his sleep. It’s difficult to pull her eyes away from him, but when she does, the credits are rolling on the screen.

This is Damon she’s thinking about like this, her best friend and also her first best friend’s boyfriend. She repeats it again, not satisfied that the guilt isn’t drowning her like it sometimes does when she catches herself lingering on his attractiveness for too long but Mystic Falls, the real Mystic Falls seems so far away. Elena, Caroline, Matt, Alaric, her old life just seems unattainable, no bigger than a memory she occasionally mistakes for a bad dream.

There’s no denying that being away from it all, here with Damon as the only other person in the world, she feels…safe. Maybe even protected, it’s a stark contrast from the real Mystic Falls where her life is always on the line.

Bonnie starts to get up when she feels his hold on her tighten to prevent her from moving away. They play tug of war for a bit but she eventually stops fighting because Damon is a vampire after all, physical strength is going to get her nowhere. “Fine,” she grumbles, then plops down which causes the end of her top to ride up enough that she can feel the press of Damon’s nose on the curve of her waist. Despite trying to inch her shirt back down, she has no luck. Naturally Damon doesn’t mind.

He inhales her skin deeply, makes a sound of approval before groggily muttering, “Going topless now, are we Judgey?”

She grabs his hair again, yanks his head back as a rebuttal, and Damon bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds. He has to ensure that all of the blood in his body isn’t rushing south too fast but unfortunately, he would have to sever both his arms completely off to stop the blood flow.

Bonnie realizes the dazed look in his eyes isn’t one of pain nor is it from sleep, “Not the reaction you expected, huh?” He asks, gesturing for her to look down but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s embarrassed, and to make matters worse, a teensy bit turned on.

“You scared, Bon Bon? I thought you were big and bad,” Damon mocks, pulling between his legs to make more room in his jeans, “it’s okay. I know Jeremy left much to be desired.” He sits up with swirls of longing still in his eyes, then grabs a pillow to place in his lap.

“Scared?” She guffaws. “Of what exactly?”

“Me…You.”

“And that means?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bon, figure it out.” Damon taunts, holding her eyes with his. “It’s awfully lonely here.”

She says nothing for a while, refusing to break eye contact first. “So.”

“Soooo, I won’t tell if you won’t.” It’s almost a joke, almost because she has a feeling if she says yes to whatever sort of ambiguous proposal he’s thrown up in the air, there won’t be any laughter. If she says no, it’s no different from his usual innuendos but boy, will she wonder.

“Wanna take a walk on the wild side?” He asks in a singsong tone, eyes dropping to her lips then back up to her eyes.

There are no alarms, no cell phones, no one here that can interrupt this moment. She has to answer, though she has no idea what will come out of her mouth. Bonnie shuts her eyes to make the moment less real, as if it will change the fact that she whispers, “Just one kiss,”

They’re nose to nose when Damon whispers back, “a peck.”

She swallows his breath. “Mhmm,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing.”

“As light as air,” he presses his lips to hers for a brief moment then pulls back again. “See.” He peppers more kisses on her lips, down her jaw, the side of her neck, but they’re heavier. They have a density now. His tongue is on the flesh of her shoulder, teasing up her neck. She feels the light imprint of sharp canines, arousal surges through her like a power circuit, so intense that she moans. When he makes his way back up, their mouths both open in a feral kiss that robs them of air.

Bonnie holds his face in place though he makes no attempt to move away. The pillow falls out from between them when he grabs Bonnie’s leg to straddle him.

It’s nothing.

Nothing separating them from attacking each other’s mouths, nothing stopping Damon from gripping his best friend’s hips, nothing saving Bonnie from discarding his shirt.

His skin is cool enough that she can stream together some thought in between relentless kisses. “Damon,” she tries her best to sound admonishing.

“Please, not right now.” Damon cuffs both her wrists behind her with one hand and plants a hickey just above her cleavage. She sees stars. He already knows what the inflection in her voice means- the timing couldn’t be worse.“Let’s save the guilt for tomorrow morning.” His tone is octaves lower, almost as low as his lids. He drags his eyes up to hers, and they’re so shiny she can see her reflection. “I need this, Bonnie. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just continues on with his ministrations, hypnotized by the pheromones seeping off of her in waves, wanting to memorize the scent with his tongue. She whines his name, like actually whines his name, and the feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach scares him. Bonnie is so oblivious to the appeal she carries but if she sat in his skin for a day, hell, for a moment, she would realize just how long she’s been driving him insane.

“We can’t,” she groans weakly. “We can’t.”

Damon tries to breathe easier, but that feeling is lurking in his gut. She’s right. The things he’d do to her, he’d break her in half. He removes Bonnie from his lap, separates from her warmth, her scent. Backs away until the tv threatens to fall off the stand. Everything in him tells him to go back, to reenter the magnetic pull, to poke at her forcefield.

He backs away even further if possible. Her breath catches at the distance.

Bonnie’s cheeks are flushed, warm and red like fruit. If she was an apple, she would have already been eaten down to the core. If she was a peach, it would be easier to explain why he ate her. He thinks to himself that he’s officially off the rails, comparing Bonnie to fruit like he is, but he’s trying to rationalize his irrationality. Because if Bonnie never stopped him, he’d definitely be eating something by now.

“Nothing happened.” She says, ignoring his expression and the silent plea in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He deadpans, throwing his shirt back over his head.

Damon thinks of how different things would be if he had his way. Bonnie, spent, drunk, high off of him. Bleeding and wild, pretty and dangerous, yelling for God. He would plunge Jeremy right out of her, help her find her magic again. Give her everything she could dream of. He gulps.

She doesn’t sleep with him tonight, not in the same bed. She’s on the opposite end of the boarding house when he hears her slide under the covers.

The next morning, he thinks to himself, if she even utters a word about last night, he’ll pick up from where he left off. But she doesn’t, her eyes are far away again, and the only proof he has of their adventures is the wonderful, purple hickey.

When movie night comes back around, his head is in her lap and her hand is back in his hair, running to and fro like him in his lavender fields.

That’s all he gets.

Every now and then, it’s enough.

Bonnie gives and takes, then takes away some more.

She’s the closest thing to God he’ll probably ever know.

[nothing-but-dreamy]

BLACK TIE

A/N: Thanks again for this idea @mindlessstories

I hope you have fun with it

Pairing: LEON KENNEDY x READER

Words: 1.736

Warnings: fluff, cursing, Leon in a suit

Synopsis: Yn and Leon are on a mission with fancy clothes. But somehow the mission is not the most interesting thing...

"W-What the bloody... What are you wearing?", Yn asked as she checked the appearance of the man in front of her. The guy was neatly dressed in a white suit shirt, black suit pants and a black jacket. Even a black tie was bound around the man’s neck. Quickly, Yn checked the number of the hotel room once again in fear she had mistaken it and might stand in front of some stranger. No, it was the right room and actually, it was also the right guy. It was just … even if it was part of the mission, Leon S. Kennedy had swapped his typical, casual leather jacket with a tuxedo. It was a sight for sore eyes. Unusually and at the same time, perfectly fitting as if Leon would be some kind of secret undercover supermodel instead of an agent.

Leon, amused about Yn’s big eyes and astonished expression, chuckled and stepped aside, letting his partner in who was still watching him as if he would be an alien. A handsome one but still. Leon closed the door, "It's a tuxedo. That's what you wear on a bow and tie event.", he explained and watched how Yn rolled with her eyes.

“I know what it is but to see you in it… and by the way! Black Tie, Kennedy! It’s called Black Tie! And not ‘bow and tie’.”, Yn explained for maybe the hundredth time since they both got assigned to this secret mission. In fact, the job was easy. A rich weapons dealer had started to ‘extend’ his sortiment with some BOWs. His business was flourishing. But instead of just catching him, Yn and Leon had decided it would be better to bug the dealer to get information about his clients as well. Therefore, they were able to dig out the whole nest.

“I don’t care what these events are called. They’re all the same. It’s just to show off how rich and important everyone is.”, Leon said and leant with crossed arms against the doorframe.

“I know how much you hate these things.”, Yn said, grabbed her bag and aimed for the bathroom to change her outfit as well, “But I have to admit, you look good in this tuxedo. It suits you.”, she said through the half closed door.

Leon smirked, “Oh, really? You know, maybe you could show me how much you like my outfit?”, he asked flirtatiously.

Yn opened the door again and stepped out, “Focus on the mission, Kennedy.”

Leon was hearing her words but his mind went kinda blank as he saw her robed in a floor-length, backless, black dress. The silky-soft fabric hugged all her curves perfectly and gave much input for many, many x-rated fantasies. Slowly, Leon’s eyes wandered upwards until he met her challenging glance. Slowly, he stepped forward with a smirk, “I might hate these events but I could get used to seeing you working in such a stunning outfit.”, Leon said low.

Yn saw dirty thoughts glittering behind his steel-blue eyes and smirked, “Take a picture, it might last longer. Come, we have to go.”, she said, passed Leon and knew that he was staring at her back all the way.

**

Thirty minutes later, Yn and Leon were entering a huge, pompous decorated ballroom. Chandeliers bathed the room in dim, atmospheric light. Soft jazz music played in the background. And obviously a whole diamond mine had exploded because it was sparkling and twinkling in each corner. The room was filled with high-society and in the middle of it two special agents who tried to fit into this kind of world.

“Shall we split up?”, Leon asked low.

Still with a wealthy smile on her lips, Yn shook her head, “Let us take a round together and then, if necessary, we split up.”, she said and linked her arm with Leon’s.

The idea had been good but quickly, they had to admit that the room was too stuffed with people. And because they searched for a guy, and everyone looked kinda the same in their black suits, they had difficulties finding their subject.

Evading into a quiet corner, Yn looked up at Leon, “That’s not working. There are too many people here. Alright, we split up. I walk around a bit. You could monitor the guys who are without women like the group over there at the bar.”, she said and nodded unobtrusively into the said direction while putting a small intercom into her ear to activate it and gave Leon the other earpiece who mirrored her move. With a serious expression, her eyes met Leon’s, “If one of us finds him, the other one comes to the position.”, she said and was about to leave.

Leon held her back, “Be careful, okay?”, he said and looked her caringly but serious in the eyes.

She smirked, “Of course. I’m not the one with the reckless moves like fighting against infected dogs on a motorbike.”, and with that, she stepped back to vanish in the crowd.

Leon chuckled about her boldness and shook his head before he followed her idea to aim for the bar. He ordered a drink and while waiting for it, Leon looked left and right to check out the people around him if their target would be with them. Leon was just about to check an older man with salt-and-pepper hair as fragments of a conversation waved over to him, catching his attention.

“These women are all the same. Rich, wealthy and absolutely boring.”, one tall man said before taking a sip of his Whiskey.

“Yeah, or ugly. I mean, how many surgeries are really necessary? I get the impression that all these women here are just made out of plastic and silicone.”, another man said. He was a bit smaller than the first one.

Leon was just about to leave as the third guy said something that caught his attention to the point that he fully turned over to them, “You might be right except with this pretty thing over there. What? None of you haven’t seen her yet? Okay, then, she’s mine.”, the guy said and let it sound as if the woman was just a piece of meat and he was the lion to hunt it down.

Leon knew he had to focus on the mission and he really was about to leave the group of idiots behind but then, he noticed the way how the guy looked at the unaware victim. It was a lust filled glance that even Leon felt disgusted by the sight. The guy was pretty sure about himself that he would be successful to win the woman over this evening. The guy, tall, dark haired and looking like a lot of money, licked over his lips while his eyes showed that he looked at a point that was lower than the woman’s waist. Now more interested in who the innocent lamb might be, Leon followed the guy’s glance and felt how his blood ran hot and cold at the same time.

Yn stood there, talking with an older lady and facing the group of guys with her back. The dress gave a beautiful sight of her flawless skin. While she talked, her body moved beautifully and she even swayed a bit to the soft tune of the music so that her hair fell over her bare back, dancing a little through the air.

“You can’t have her! I saw her first. I just couldn’t say anything because I became speechless by her eyes.”, the first, tall guy said.

“By her eyes? Forget them! Look at her god damn ass. So round and juicy.”, the guy said and his eyes became filled with raw, sexual hunger.

That was enough for Leon to forget the mission for a moment as he walked over to the group, “I couldn’t miss hearing how you were talking about this young lady.” Leon said low, getting the attention of all three men at the same time, “Stay away from her. All of you. Or otherwise, things will turn ugly.”, he said with a kind of threat lingering in his voice.

One of the men stepped closer to Leon, slightly towering over the agent and looking down, “Who do you think you are, huh? Nothing we do is your concern.”

Not impressed at all, Leon stepped forward, holding the man’s glance, “She’s mine, get it? Therefore, yes, it concerns me how you are talking about her. So, do yourself a favor and stay away from her or I will become your worst nightmare. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”, Leon said threateningly, leaving no room for any further arguments.

The guy stared at Leon for several more moments and considered his best next step but in the end, the guy saw something in Leon’s eyes that told him to better back off. And after another few seconds, the guy stepped back, nodded to his friends and disappeared somewhere else.

Leon went back to his drink and emptied it in one big sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, Yn stood already next to him, leaning against the bar with a smirk on her lips, "So, I'm yours, huh?", she asked low.

With a shock filled glance, he stared at her and swallowed thickly, "Oh, uhm... Well... I- I didn't like the way he looked at you.", he stammered with an apologetic glance.

Yn nodded, "Yes, I heard that.”, she said, tapping at her ear with her index finger to remind him of the intercom. As Yn saw his awkward smile, she stepped forward, “You know, to see you jealous and protective was kinda cute. But it was unnecessary, don't you think? I'm not your girlfriend."

Leon also stepped forward, a smirk was playing on his lips while he snaked his arm around her waist to bring her even closer, "Actually, we're just one date away that I can call you mine."

"Oh, really? Then, I would say we count this evening as a date, what do you think?", Yn suggested whispering against his lips which were just inches away.

"Deal.", Leon breathed before he kissed her. It was a deep kiss. Filled with hunger to show off to whom Yn belonged to. Yn tugged on his suit jacket to bring him even closer, knowing exactly where these clothes would land later this evening…

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 8

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 8 - This Venerable One Gets Punished

Mo Ran lay in bed like a dead fish for three days. Just as his wounds started to heal, he was summoned to Red Lotus Pavilion to do manual labour.

This was also part of his punishment. During the punishment period, Mo Ran couldn't go down the mountain, but he also couldn't just laze around. So he had to help out the sect and do some drudgery.

Generally speaking, these errands were things like: helping the cafeteria lady at Mengpo Hall wash the dishes, scrubbing the three hundred and sixty-five stone lions on the pillars of the Naihe Bridge, transcribing extremely boring archive files, and so on.

But what kind of place was Red Lotus Pavilion? It was the residence of that bastard Chu Wanning, known as the cursed place called Red Lotus Hell.

Few people in Life-Death Peak had been there, and everyone who had been there left with either their legs or their arms broken.

Therefore, in addition to Red Lotus Hell, Chu Wanning's bedroom had a more grounded nickname: Broken Leg Pavilion.

There was an inside joke circulating around the sect: "The Pavilion hides a beauty, and the beauty holds Tianwen. Enter the gate of broken legs, know the suffering of getting your legs broken. If you want your meridians broken, go to the Elder Yuheng."

There was once a female disciple who wasn't afraid of death. She was bold enough to lust after Elder Yuheng's beauty. Taking advantage of the dark night and high winds, she sneaked to the Southern Peak and climbed onto the eaves, intending to watch the Elder bathe and strip his clothes.

As you can imagine, the female warrior was beaten within an inch of death by Tianwen, crying for her father and calling her mother, and lay in bed for no less than a hundred days.

And Chu Wanning also declared that, if anyone else dared to commit another crime, he would carve out the eyes of the perpetrator himself.

Do you see? What complete nonsense! What puzzling behaviour! What a heinous man!

Within the sect, there used to be innocent silly girls who thought that, because they were women, Elder Yuheng would pity them and show compassion. They were always laughing and joking in front of him, trying to attract his attention. But ever since the elder whipped that one female hooligan, no one dared to hit on him anymore.

To Elder Yuheng, whether it was men or women, he didn't have the disposition of a gentleman. Other than a good-looking face, there was nothing redeeming about him - this was how Chu Wanning was viewed by the disciples of this sect.

The junior brother who had delivered the summons looked at Mo Ran with sympathy. He tried to stay quiet, but in the end, couldn't hold it back: "Brother Mo. . ."

"Hmm?"

". . . Elder Yuheng has such a bad temper. No one who went to the Red Lotus Water Pavilion came out able to stand. Maybe you could see if you could say your wounds haven't healed and beg Yuheng Elder to let you wash dishes instead?"

Mo Ran was very grateful for this junior brother's bodhisattva heart, but he didn't agree.

Beg Chu Wanning?

Forget it. He doesn't need to get beaten by Tianwen a second time.

So he strenuously put on his clothes, dragged his feet, and walked reluctantly to Life-Death Peak's southern peak.

Red Lotus Pavilion, Red Lotus Hell. There wasn't a single person in sight for a hundred li around Chu Wanning's residence.

No one wanted to go close to his residence. Chu Wanning's bad taste and uncertain personality made everyone in the sect stay far away from him.

Mo Ran was a bit nervous. He didn't know what Chu Wanning would make him do as punishment. His thoughts ran wild the whole trip to the southern peak. After passing through the dense bamboo groves, large swathes of beautiful red lotus came into view.

It was early morning, the sun rising from the east, reflecting a splendid shine on the horizon. The red lotus stalks in the pond stretched towards the flaming clouds in the sky, complementing each other; magnificent. At the edge of the pond, a curved zig-zag bridge led to the pavilion standing in serene silence. Behind it was a curtain of waterfalls streaming down the mountain, the fine crystal water droplets raining against the rocks at the bottom. The watery mist created by it evaporated into the air, light gleaming through the fog, creating a sense of enchanting tranquillity.

This is what Mo Ran thought about this:

Gross.

Wherever Chu Wanning lived, no matter how beautiful it was, would always be gross to him!

Just look at it, so arrogantly extravagant, a true waste of extravagance, in fact. The disciples’ dorms are all closely connected to each other and they don't take up much surface area. And then there's the mighty Elder Yuheng, who occupies a whole mountain by himself. He even dug three large ponds and filled them with lotus flowers. Although, these lotus flowers are special varieties and can be refined into immortal medicine, but—

This is getting off track, the place was not pleasing to the eye. He wished he could burn down Broken Leg Pavilion with his torch!

All he could ever do was silently criticize this place. Given that he was only sixteen* this year, he was no match for Chu Wanning. Mo Ran showed up outside Chu Wanning's residence regardless. He stood at the door, squinted his eyes, and put on a sickeningly sweet demure, pretending to be the ideal disciple.

*(T/N The original text flips between all these ages. Mo Ran is just guessing how old he is so that's why it keeps going to 14/15/16)

"Disciple Mo Ran here to greet his master."

"Yes, come in."

The room was chaotic and disorganized. The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning was dressed in a white robe. The lapels were folded high and tightly, giving off an air of purity and abstinence. Today, he had his hair in a high ponytail, covered with a black metal hair ring. He sat on the ground fiddling with a bunch of mechanical parts, biting a pen he had in his mouth.

Casually glancing at Mo Ran, with the pen still in his mouth, he said vaguely: "Come here."

Mo Ran approached him.

It was no easy feat. Considering there were no benches or tables in this room, artwork and metal broken wood were scattered everywhere.

Mo Ran's brows twitched. He had never entered Chu Wanning's room in his previous life, and he had no idea that this well-dressed beautiful man lived in such a mess. . . He was at a loss for words.

"Master, what is this?"

"Night Wanderer."

"What?"

Chu Wanning was a little impatient, probably because it was inconvenient to speak with a pen in his mouth: "Night Wanderer."

Mo Ran silently glanced at the mess of parts on the ground.

His master was hailed as Shizun Chu, and it wasn't just out of vanity. Speaking honestly, Chu Wanning was a very powerful man. Whether it is his three god-grade weapons, his cultivation techniques, or his machine-building skills, he was clearly worthy of being defined by four words: "the peak of excellence". This was also the reason why he had such a bad temper and was so difficult to serve, but the major cultivation sects still tried to fight over him for those skill.

Regarding the "Night Wanderer", the reborn Mo Ran was well aware of it.

It was a kind of machine made by Chu Wanning, cheap to make but had strong combat power. It can guard the ordinary people in the lower cultivation world from ghosts and demons at night.

In his previous life, the well-made Night Wanderer had almost become a must-have machine for every household. The price of one was equivalent to a broom, and the effect was much easier to handle than the Grinning Door God.

After Chu Wanning died, those Night Wanderers still guarded the poor families who couldn't afford a high-level cultivator. This compassionate heart, coupled with Chu Wanning's affection for his disciples. . . hehe, it really makes Mo Ran despise him.

Mo Ran sat down and looked at the "Night Wanderer" which was just a bunch of parts at this time, and the past flashed through his mind. He couldn't help picking up one of the Night Wanderer's limbs and grasped it in his hand for a closer look.

Chu Wanning clipped a few components, finally freeing his hands. He took the pen out of his mouth and glared at Mo Ran: "That one was just finished with tung oil, don't touch it."

"Oh. . ." Mo Ran put down the machine. He put his fake smile back on still looking cute and completely harmless. He asked with a smile, "Shizun summoned me here, are you planning to let me help?"

Chu Wanning hummed: "Mm."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Clean up the house."

Mo Ran's smile froze. He looked around at the room that looked like it had been hit by an earthquake: ". . ."

Chu Wanning was a genius in immortal cultivation and an idiot in life.

After picking up the fifth broken teacup that had never been swept up, Mo Ran finally couldn't stand it: "Shizun, when was the last time you cleaned your house? My god, it's so messy!"

Chu Wanning was looking at his drawings, and didn't look up when Mo Ran spoke to him: "Almost a year."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

"Where do you usually sleep?"

"What?" There must be something wrong with the drawing. Chu Wanning was upset and looked even more impatient than usual. He rubbed his head and replied in a huff, "Of course it's the bed."

Mo Ran glanced at the bed. It was piled with all kinds of machines that had been mostly completed, as well as a bunch of tools such as saws, axes, files, and so on.

Seriously, how did this man sleep without cutting his own head off?

After working for most of the day, the sawdust on the floor had filled three dustpans, and the white towel that had wiped down the bookcase was ten times more black. By noon, he had only cleaned about half.

Fuck Chu Wanning, this person is really more poisonous than a leeching woman.

Cleaning a room didn't seem like much of a punishment, it didn't really seem like hard work, but who knew that it was such a ghastly place that hadn't been touched in a year? Not to mention that he was covered with wound. Even if he was healthy now, he could shorten his lifespan by half going through all of this!

"Shizun. . ."

"Hm?"

"Your pile of clothes. . ." They'd been stacked there for about three months.

Chu Wanning finally got one of Night Wanderer's arms attached. He rubbed his sore shoulder, looked up at the robes on the suitcase, and said coldly: "I wash them myself."

Mo Ran was relieved. Thank goodness. But he was still a little curious: "Really? Shizun can wash clothes?"

Chu Wanning glanced at him, and after a while, coldly said: "What's so hard about it? Throw them in water, soak them, take them out, and dry them."

". . ." After hearing this, he really didn't know any girl who would keep lusting after Chu Wanning. Mo Ran truly thought that it would break the hearts of dozen of women to find out how disgusting this man really was.

"It's getting late. You can accompany me to the dining hall and finish the rest when you get back."

There were people coming and going from Meng Po Hall, and the Life-Death Peak disciples were eating together. Chu Wanning grabbed a lacquered wooden tray, took a few dishes and sat in the corner silently.

From where he was, no one sat within twenty feet of him.

No one dared to sit too close to Elder Yuheng, for fear that he would get upset, and they would get a lashing from Tianwen. Chu Wanning himself actually knew about this, but he didn't mind. A cold beauty sat there, gently eating the food in the bowl.

But today wasn't like usual.

Mo Ran was brought by him, so naturally he had to follow him.

Others are afraid of him. So was Mo Ran, but he had already died once, so Chu Wanning was nothing in comparison.

Especially after the fear of first seeing him had subsided, the hatred of Chu Wanning from his previous life slowly emerged. So what if Chu Wanning was powerful? In his last life, he still died by his hands.

Mo Ran sat down in front of him, calmly chewing the sweet and sour pork ribs in the bowl. He crunched on the bones then spit them out into a pile.

Chu Wanning suddenly slammed down his chopsticks.

Mo Ran stopped for a moment.

". . . Can you stop eating with your mouth open?"

"I chew the bones, how am I supposed to do that with my mouth closed?"

"Then don't eat the bones."

"But I like to eat the bones."

"Eat around them."

The two quarreling voices grew louder and louder, and some disciples were already peeping at them.

Mo Ran fought the urge to throw the rice bowl over Chu Wanning's head. He pursed his lips, and after a while, he narrowed his eyes, and a sweet smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Shizun, don't shout so loudly. Others might hear, won't they laugh at us?"

Chu Wanning has always been thin-skinned, and his voice really softened. He whispered: "Get out."

Mo Ran burst out laughing.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

"Hey, Shizun, don't stare at me. Come on, let's eat. I'll try to be quiet."

Mo Ran had laughed enough and started playing nice again, the sound of his chewing much softer.

Chu Wanning gradually went back to gently eating. Seeing that Mo Ran was bring obedient, his face slightly relaxed, no longer looking so bitter and upset. He lowered his head, eating his green beans and tofu with grace.

After a long pause, Mo Ran started to do it again.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. In summary, seeing Chu Wanning in this life, he wanted to make a fool of himself and do whatever he could to make him angry.

So Chu Waning found that although Mo Ran did not chew loudly this time, he began to grab the ribs with his hands and eat them, sloppily eating with greasy hands and sauce-covered fingers.

Chu Wanning's blue forehead vein popped. Endure it.

He lowered his eyelashes. He didn't look at Mo Ran, and focused on his own meal.

Mo Ran didn't know if he had gotten too carefree or forgetful while eating, but he accidentally threw one of the gnawed bones into Chu Wanning's rice bowl.

Chu Wanning stared at the messy and hideous rib bone, and the surrounding air so condensed and frozen it was visible to the naked eye.

"Mo Ran. . . !!!"

"Shizun. . ." Mo Ran was quite frightened. He wasn't sure whether what he said sounded true or fake. "That. . . Uh, I didn't mean it."

Probably fake.

". . ."

"Don't be angry, I'll take it out for you."

He really stretched out his chopsticks, stuck them into Chu Wanning's bowl, and quickly picked out the bone.

Chu Wanning's face was pale, like he was about to vomit.

Mo Ran batted his eyelashes, and there was a pitiful grievance on his delicate face: "Shizun, do you dislike me?"

". . ."

"Shizun, I'm sorry."

It was just that.

Chu Wanning thought to himself: Why do you need to be restrained with the junior disciples?

He gave up the urge to summon Tianwen to hit Mo Ran. His appetite was gone, and he got up and said: "I'm full."

"What? Is that all you're going to eat? Shizun, you've barely touched your food."

Chu Wanning brushed him off: "I'm not hungry."

Mo Ran's heart felt like it was as joyful as a flower, and he still sweetly said: "Then I won't eat it anymore. We can go back to Red Lotus Hell - ehem, go back to Red Lotus Pavilion."

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes: "We?" There was a mockery in his eyes, and then said, "Who is the other person you're talking about? Disciples and their Shizun have respectable relationships and you will address me in the proper manner."

Mo Ran carefully kept his expression, his eyes curled up with a smile, well-behaved, sensible and cute.

However, in his heart he was thinking: Respectful relationship? Proper manner?

Hehe, if Chu Wanning could know what happened in his previous life, he would know - in the end, Mo Weiyu was the only one deserving of respect in the world.

No matter how noble and arrogant Chu Waning was, he was still a piece of mud under his boot. Didn't he depend on Mo Ran's good will to survive?

Stepping quickly to keep up with his shizun's pace, Mo Ran still had a bright smile on his face.

If Shi Mei was the white moonlight in his heart, Chu Wanning was the broken fishbone stuck in his throat. He needed crush this thorn or swallow it, and it will corrode away in his stomach.

In short, during this new life, he could spare whoever he wanted.

But he would never spare Chu Wanning.

However, Chu Wanning didn't seem to want to spare him so easily.

Mo Ran stood in front of the library in Red Lotus Hell, looking at fifty rows of ten-story bookshelves, thinking that he must have heard wrong.

"Shizun, what did you say. . .?"

Chu Wanning replied lightly: "Dust all the books in here."

". . ."

"After dusting, catalogue them."

"..."

"I will check back tomorrow morning."

"!!!"

What!!! Was he supposed to stay overnight in Red Lotus Hell??

But he had planned to meet with Shi Mei, and even asked Shimei to change his medicine at night!!!

He opened his mouth to plead his case, but Chu Wanning didn't bother paying attention to him. With a wave of his wide sleeves, and turned to exit the library, and, incidentally, closed the door of the library in a haughty manner.

Mo Ran, who's date had been ruined, sat in his boiling hatred of Chu Wanning - he wanted to burn all Chu Wanning's books!!

No!

After thinking it over, he thought of something even worse. . .

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[imaginationmess]

TAKE MY HAND (ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE) [BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER]; TWO

Bakugou Katsuki X Reader

AGED UP AU!

Summary: When you take on the burden to keep the ones living safe, which causes you to become a traitor, but you had to pick a decision, and it cost their trust in you. You reverted to your old violent self. Months later, you find yourself face to face with your old friends. They want you to help them because they know you can handle yourself in this current state of the world. They are still ignorant of the state the world is. They have no idea how more dangerous it has become.

“We are still fucking fighting and won’t stop fighting. If you fucking give up, we lose!”

BEFORE READING! PLEASE READ DISCLAIMER!

Previously Chapter ONE; Masterlist

Chapter TWO

Word Count: 1,600+

Spoiler Alert for Anime watchers: There will be mention of Midoirya’s new quirks that haven’t been introduced in the anime.

Once the four of them have taken a shower and had time to discuss with each other weighing the pros and cons of trusting you. You did have a good record of keeping up with your promises before the incident where you betrayed all of their trust. It’s a tie between trusting you or not trusting you over a deal.

They are gonna reconsider the vote about it, later at night. They are all curious how you became a Mafia boss from just an original teenager who wanted to become a hero. To only become a cold killer and making a name for yourself years later.

They only have heard stories and rumors of the alias you go by.

Glitch.

A masked individual who is widely known for their cold,calculated mind and a heartless killer who didn’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. A leader who rapidly climbing up the ladder in the mafia world during the time of the apocalypse. A leader who became to hold more territory and killing off of other leaders to take their territory and expand their army.

A name alone made your enemies tremble in their boots.

They are hoping to get better judgment, seeing how things are run here.

The young boy that goes by the alias Speedy gave them a quick tour, but didn’t show the whole building due to being confidential from outsiders. He is just following orders. He was taking them to the cafeteria to grab something to eat to only notice where the children were eating all together were pointing at them. Most of them have eyes of admiration and pure awe looking at them.

“They are fans of you guys. They have seen the old video recording of previous sports festivals. We had to keep them somewhat entertained. Glitch got her hands on those old videos.” Speedy explains to continue to eat his soup.

The boys nod, understanding why the kids are so excited to see them in the flesh. It was weird, but somewhat comforting that the younger generation isn’t taught to hate heroes.

“I would keep those degrading comments of Miss Glitch to yourselves because the people who live here aren’t fans of heroes, much less of outsides. I heard you guys arguing earlier outside the room. You weren’t very quiet.” He looks at Bakugou in a way saying you are the loud one, before adding, “Everyone here would not agree on whatever image you decide to picture her.”

“Why wouldn’t they agree? Isn’t she a killer though?” Todoroki is just addressing the tension in the air. Midoriya and Kirishima choked on their food before coughing. They forgot Todoroki still struggles to read the social situations.

“Yes, she has killed many, but it is done to keep everyone safe. At the state of the world, it isn’t run by heroes who never got their hands dirty. It is run by killers because prison doesn’t exist. Who is gonna be the one to put those low lives underneath the ground? You guys never faced the true danger of the current state of the world. You are always protected just because you attend a prestigious school before the apocalypse hit.” Speedy spits out before taking a deep breath and just continues eating his food. His left hand was

“I apologized for his comment. We just have a history of them. It didn’t end on a good note. I know yo-.”

Speedy interrupts Midoriya by slams his spoon on the table before taking a deep breath to recollect himself.

“You don’t know any of our experiences. It was hell before Miss Glitch came to save us and took us in with no judgment. She taught us how to freaking survive by teaching us numerous tools such as self-defense and weapon handling. She never expected anything in return, unlike other mafia groups.”

The sound of a clap pauses the tension being created by five of them. The ex heroes in training look up to see meet the emotionless man covered with tattoos and scars. The same man who was within the room left to the minor from earlier. He placed a hand on top of Speedy head to ruffle his hair.

“Go ahead, eat with your sibling. Take a breather. I will take over making sure these little shits behave.” He removes his hand from his head before taking a seat beside the teenager.

“But-” Speedy was hesitant on leaving his position.

“It’s an order. Spend time with your sibling. Enjoy the night off.” The older man takes out a red apple from his pocket. Speedy stares at the four outside and gives a quick nod before taking his leave.

Bakugou Katsuki was staring at the man with suspicion as if he saw him before this mission. He wasn’t the only one who was thought so. Midoriya recalls those same tattoos, but it must have been a long time ago. He couldn’t easily recall. They were eating quietly until they finished.

“Let’s start ny introducing myself. I am Daichi. I am usually the one who runs this base when Miss Glitch isn’t present. It must have been your lucky day because you would have been tortured to death for trespassing.” The hairs behind their neck rise and getting goosebumps.

They sense malicious by the way he is sounding. Midoriya’s danger senses were activating and going crazy causing him to want to step away from him. It takes him back to when All For One and Stain’s presence.

Daichi’s yellow eyes stare at every one of them as he takes out a pocket knife directs it at Midoriya who was sitting in front of him. “The only reason you four are alive and even getting treated with special treatment is because of Miss Glitch. Step out of line, I wouldn’t hesitate to beat the shit of you wannabe heroes. That’s the only thing. I am allowed to do.” He swiftly put his pocket knife after cutting his apple into six pieces which fall on the napkin. He claps his hands together cutting through the tension for him to drop the act to replace it with a fake smile.

“Anyways comes to my question. What did you talk about with the young boy making them lose their composure?”

He was oblivious enjoying tormenting these wannabe heroes.

_______________________________________

Meanwhile, inside the hero’s refuge base where there is a tall metal barrier that runs underneath 20 feet underground.

There was a young man with black hair with his signature scarf, looking at a map looking where to travel to get more food and other resources. They are running out of places to investigate. The last 2 locations were a complete bust. It has been cleaned out completely. He is one of the leaders of the camp where they have stayed safe since the beginning of the apocalypse.

There was a knock on the wall, before someone coming in through the curtains. They pull a chair across from him, before taking a seat. They are twirling it around for them to rest their arms on the top of the chair.

“Aizawa, I can’t believe you took my suggestion seriously.” The young male with the purple bed hair as if he just rolled out of bed, comments. He has a small scar above his eyebrow. He has a few scars on his arms that have grown muscular.

“It was insane, but not outside of the possibilities.” Aizawa laid back in his chair and stares at his former student who is now somewhat a version copy of himself when it comes to fighting styles.

“Do you tell the trio? Whom they are gonna be meeting?” The purple-haired questions, not seeing they would be willing to see a former classmate that so-called became a traitor in their eyes.

“No. They wouldn’t be willing to do it despite us being a tight spot right now when it comes to resources.” Aizawa answers, before ruffling his hair and keeping his eyes closed. He is stressed out and not having a lot of options. They are running low on adults that were pro heroes. They have lost many throughout the apocalypse. Many of them abandon their original mission to save themselves.

The apocalypse revealed the true heroes who aren’t for the money. They are a good amount of pro heroes who got captured by mafia groups to have power. Some of them show over time randomly at their doorstep after being spared by the mask individual Glitch. That’s the only information they are allowed to share about their interaction with Glitch.

Aizawa and the other leaders of the camp believe the individual took them close enough for them to walk to their camp. Aizawa suspects it is one of his former students whom he didn’t have any contract  ever since the infamous incident. Majorly of his students calls them to be traitors.

“I still don’t get why we never told the truth about what actually happened that day.” The purple-haired male looks to the side to see Eri outside away from any harm playing with Kota.

“Hitoshi, It was a quick agreement exchange of keeping our mouths close and follow whatever story they want to make up. She swore to keep her word on securing your guys safe within her presence.” Aizawa applies pressure on his forehead to relieve the headache.

Aizawa remembering back to the U.A dorms where you are smiling and being a normal teenager. The image of that student whom he watched over for months became dark. She was no longer a child, but an emotionless shell of what she should be.

The lifeless eyes staring back at him, covered in bruises and blood that wasn’t her own. She was carrying unconscious Eri. You were bathed by your enemy’s blood. The remaining light of innocence in your eyes had vanished from existence. It only reveals just cold, calculated eyes that were staring at his soul.

“Aizawa.”

💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣-💥-💣

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

Any thoughts/Feelings/Predictions that you have while out reading this chapter.

I would love to hear them! <3

If you wish to be tagged, do comment down below.

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [4]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.9K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Thank you for all the love you have given to this series so far! As I’ve said before, this is my side blog so I can’t reply directly to your comments. But I love reading them. I love reading your tags when you reblog. It really makes my day. And if I could respond to each and everyone of you, I really would because I just appreciate you so much <3 Just know that I FREAK out everytime i get a sweet comment. Like, I could comment on my main but like... thatd be weird. let me know though if youd like me to do that?

Anyway. lets get to the chapter! Happy reading :)

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After a whole days worth of exploring this new unknown, the sun began to set in the distance and the dark, night sky was quickly approaching. This led Bakugou and his soldiers to set up camp nearby. Not far away from the town you were in was a hill that came with a very beautiful view. It overlooked the entire town and when it becomes fully dark outside, that’s where the magic comes. Lanterns and torches lit up the entire place, creating this orange and red array of beautiful sunset colors.

Bakugou’s soldiers were split into three groups: setting up camp, starting the fireplace, and making food. While everyone was doing their respective tasks, you were sitting under a tree to shade you from the setting sun. Bakugou, on the other hand, wasn’t resting like how a prince normally would. He was helping along side his soldiers; talking, setting up camp, and… laughing. It was the first time you had seen him with a genuine smile on his face.

You tilted your head at the sight. He looked kind. The way he talked to his soldiers, the way he treated them, how he looked like he could be himself… was this the real prince? How could you have made him out to be this horrible person in your mind, only for him to act like a normal person?

As you were deep in thought, Bakugou couldn’t help but take a few glances at you every now and then. You were sitting all alone at the top of that hill and he was here, actively avoiding you. How could he even approach you? Forget that he was practically with you the entire day. He didn’t know how to start a conversation with you. Or with anyone for that matter. He’s not used to having a fiancée that is also a stranger. Being raised sheltered didn’t help him become a people-person. So he opted to helping set up camp. He needs something to keep him distracted from a beauty that keeps looking his way.

“Just go talk to her,” Mina, his female soldier, finally huffed. She was tired of how shy his highness was acting. It was not a sight she usually saw and if she had to take anymore of this fluffy behavior, she was going to pass away.

“I can’t,” Bakugou gave up so easily.

“What do you mean you can’t? Nothing is stopping you from talking to her,” Mina pointed out. But still, Bakugou was reluctant to go.

“What do I even say?” he asked for advice.

“Get to know her! Ask her how her day was. Ask her what her favorite color is. She’s your fiancée, soon-to-be queen. You’re going to have to spend the rest of your life with her. Ya might as well get comfortable with her when you have the chance,” Mina pushed Bakugou slightly towards your direction. Yet, he still wasn’t budging on his own. The female solider groaned and put her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t say you had to fall in love with her. At least try to be friends!” Bakugou’s face became flushed upon hearing the god forsaken L word. He became so flustered that he couldn’t even talk straight.

“W-Who said anything about… l-love,” his voice became quiet at the end.

“Go on, your highness,” she joked, taking the wood from his hands. “Give me this, and go talk to her,” she said one last time and faced away to continue setting up camp. With a deep exhale, Bakugou finally turned to you and walked up the hill.

You saw his highness making his way up the hill to you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you became stiff. By the time Bakugou had taken a seat next to you, you had already straightened your back to create the perfect posture, as a princess should.

There was an awkward silence at first. You and Bakugou just sat in front of that tree while you watched everyone do their job in setting up camp. It took a few moments for Bakugou to clear his throat and finally talk to you.

“How are you enjoying your trip so far?” he asked. That should be a good start, he thought. He glanced at you and got a glimpse at your big, doe-like eyes. You were a bit surprised that he was talking to you in such a civil manner but also made you relax.

“I’m very much enjoying it. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had,” you told him truthfully, childish excitement twinkled in your eyes.

“I’m glad,” Bakugou replied, still flustered at your reaction. He wasn’t expecting such an innocent response from you. You definitely are different from other princesses he’s encountered. But the conversation ends there. Back to silence once again. It was until curiosity got the best of you. You didn’t think about it and went ahead and just said it.

“Your people aren’t scared of you,” you commented. You didn’t realize how insensitive the comment was until it came out of your mouth. You wanted smack yourself in the head but it already came out. You forgot for a moment that you had to pretend to be the princess. And the princess would think before she spoke. But your dumbass thought it was smart to just say whatever came to your head.

“Why, are they supposed to be scared of their prince?” Bakugou asked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. What do you even say to that? Do you address the rumors you’ve heard?

“I-um,” you stutter. Stupid, stupid! Why did you even say that? After you thought the prince wasn’t actually all that bad, he was going to hate you now.

“I see the rumors travel far,” he says. He shifts in his seat, allowing himself to lay back on his elbows. “It’s not like my people don’t know about the rumors. Even I know about them. They just don’t know what their prince looks like.” He opens up to you. Unlike his brothers, Bakugou likes to hide his face from his people. And he does it well. He wanted to make sure that his identity was hidden and wasn’t made known to anybody. This was the only way that he was able to leave the palace and roam around freely in his kingdom without fear from his people.

“Why would you hide your identity?” you ask, curiously. You’ve never heard of a prince or princess hiding themselves from their people. It was only natural that they are bathed in glory and loved from the public. To hide your identity, you are stripped away from a certain power that only they could hold.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he says, opening his arms up to the world. You looked out and couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Bakugou saw the confusion in your face and chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this freedom. This open air. I wouldn’t have been able to see my kingdom for how it really is. I wouldn’t have been able to be here with you.” You finally meet his eye and you guys hold each other’s stare. That’s when you understood. You could see his story through his eyes. Although you couldn’t see all of it, you understood at least a little. You could see the pressures and difficulties of being the prince, the Blood Prince no less.

Bakugou opens his mouth to say something else but quickly shuts it. He decided that it wasn’t the time to tell you just yet. You caught that little act and frowned.

“What is it?” you ask. Bakugou shakes his head and disregards it.

“In due time, princess,” he says. Before you could rebuttal, Kirishima calls you both down from the bottom of the hill.

“Dinner’s ready!” he shouts. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bakugou is already on his feet to head down. You, on the other hand, take a little longer to head down. Thanks to your dress, you had to gather it, careful not to step on it while getting up. A hand appears in front of your face and you looked up to see the owner. The prince had offered his hand to you while looking away shyly.

Little did you know, Bakugou had planned on doing that. He was already heading down to where the hot food was being poured out in bowls. But Mina had turned to him furious and motioned for him to go back. Bakugou couldn’t understand what she was trying to do. So Mina had physically act out him offering his hand to you as a romantic gesture. Clueless Bakugou did just that. And that simple act made your face heat up.

You and Bakugou made it to campfire with your arm around his. His soldiers held back their snickers and smiles and handed you each your dinner. Inside your bowl was a hot serving of porridge with meat and vegetables to fill you up. The smell was immaculate. You couldn’t wait to taste it. One sip of the porridge and your eyes lit up.

“Delicious!” you exclaimed, downing more of the food.

“I’m glad it’s to your liking, princess,” Sero, another one of Bakugou’s soldiers, bowed in respect while addressing you.

“It’s the only thing he’s good at,” Denki, another one of Bakugou’s trusted soldiers, poked fun at him.

“At least I’m good at something. You’re not good at anything!” Sero bit back and a round of laughter filled the air.

“I’m good at a lot of things!” Denki tried to defend himself.

“Yeah? Name 5 things right now!” Mina joined in. There was more laughter around the campfire when Denki paused to think about his answer. Even Bakugou was giving a hearty laugh at his soldiers joking around.

It was interesting. To see Bakugou’s true self come out around his comrades, or more like his closest friends. Who knew that the angry, scary Blood Prince could smile so wide like this? If you told the girls that the oh so famous Blood Prince wasn’t actually the scary killer we all knew, they’d laugh in your face.

Not long after dinner, you found yourself yawning. Nightfall was already upon you. Since you still had a long way to go for your trip, Bakugou advised you to sleep early so you could depart as soon as possible when the sun rose. Fortunately for you, the tent was already set up. You got into the tent and waited patiently for Bakugou.

This made your heart race. This was the first time you guys were sleeping together and you weren’t wedded yet. Was this okay to do? His soldiers were sleeping a bit farther away to give their prince and his fiancée some privacy. It’s not like you two were going to do anything. Just the thought of having him next to you while you slept in this small tent was something you thought you’d never do. But it couldn’t be avoided. You just had to breath and calm down. It won’t be for long anyway.

You continuously away for Bakugou but he never comes. You peek out the tent and he’s laying out on the grass, hands behind his head and eyes already closed.

“Um,” you speak out and Bakugou peeks one eye out. “Are you not coming in?” you ask.

“The tent is for you, princess,” he says nonchalantly and closes his eyes again. You frown at this.

“Do you not have a tent?” you question.

“I’m used to sleeping on the ground. Don’t worry about me, you should get some rest,” he continues to say with eyes closed. That didn’t sit right with you. It gets very chilly at night. Without any coverage, he’s bound to get cold. It wasn’t fair that you very comfy inside this tent while he is outside in the cold. The more you’re around him, the more your image of him changes. Everything he is doing and saying is making you think differently of him.

You gather your blanket and plop right down next to him. Bakugou jumps and sits up when you get situated in your new sleeping spot.

“What?” you ask, looking up at him.

“What are you-” he couldn’t even finish his question because he is so speechless.

“I’m not going to let you sleep out here by yourself. Come,” you pat the grass next to you. “Lay down.”

Still shocked with confusion, he lays down next to you. Now you were shoulder to shoulder. Going through a roller coaster of emotion, Bakugou is now freaking out because you are so close to him. His heart is beating faster and his mind was racing. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight.

You thought sleeping next to him was going to be no problem. You were so tired that you wouldn’t mind sleeping next to your ‘fiancé’ and just knock out. But it seems like any signs of tiredness was thrown out the window because now you were wide awake.

Probably an hour has passed since you laid down next to the prince. Bakugou noticed that you were restless next to him, constantly moving to get comfortable but never enough that you were able to fall asleep. Should he talk to you? What does he say? Should he follow Mina’s advice?

“Are you awake?” Bakugou’s raspy voice shocked you.

“Ah, yes,” you answer, moving to lay on your back.

“What’s your favorite color?” Bakugou took the courage to ask.

“Lilac purple,” you say. “Do you have a favorite color?”

“Red,” he says simply. “Do you have a favorite food?”

“I like simple dishes like what we ate today. Porridge, soups, stews.” Well, that’s actually all you were able to eat as a servant. But he didn’t have to know that. “You?”

“Anything meat. Favorite piece of literature?” he asked. This made you pause. As a servant, you weren’t able to read anything so how could you answer this question. You tried to think back to a time when you saw the princess studying because for the love of you, you couldn’t remember any names of those books.

“Ah, there’s so many. I can’t name one,” you made up on the spot. But Bakugou believed it.

“I guess I could say the same. Hm, how about favorite animal?”

“Let’s say it at the same time,” you suggested. Bakugou smirked.

“Alright. 1,”

“2.”

“3.”

“Dragon!” you both say at the same time. But at the same time, you both rolled to your side to face each other and that led to your faces being extremely close together. You both stared at each other, wide eyed. Though both stunned, you couldn’t look away from each other. Bakugou looks down at your lips but clears his throat and looks away. You do the same and turn away from him. You cover your face in embarrassment because you saw the way he looked at you. What was that!? Bakugou balled his hands into fists and knocked his head. What was he even thinking?

The more you got into your head, the more you started to drift into sleep. Eventually, your eyes shut completely and you fell asleep. Throughout the night, Bakugou couldn’t sleep. His mind kept replaying how close your face was to his. God, he didn’t even know why his eyes steered towards your lips. As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough, he was even more so for acting like that. He peeked at you and saw you shivering from the night breeze. That blanket was so thin, it wasn’t doing anything to help protect you from the wind. So he takes his cape and wraps it around you. When he adjust the cape to cover all of you, you moved so that you were cuddling up right next to him. You were so close that he could feel your breath on him. Bakugou froze. He was afraid that if he moved, you would wake up. As silently and as slowly as he could, he laid back down with you practically on his chest. Huh, you were so warm for someone who was shivering. It was only a minute that you were on him and he felt his eyes getting heavier with every passing second. Eventually, he falls asleep with you resting in his arms.

The next morning, Kirishima and the rest of the crew wake up early to pack and get ready for the rest of the journey. Kirishima brings Denki along to head up the hill where you and Bakugou were still sleeping. As soon as your sleeping bodies came into view, Kirishima stopped dead in his tracks. You were fully resting on top of his chest, your arm wrapped around his upper body. While Bakugou had a hand under you, wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on top of your head. Kirishima’s eyes softened at the sight. But it was all ruined when Denki got too excited and smacked the red head next to him.

“Dude! You see what I’m seeing?!” Denki whisper shouted. Kirishima rolled his eyes, grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

“You’re gonna wake them up you idiot!” he scolded, and forced back down the hill to give you guys your privacy.

The sun hit your face just perfectly for you to wake up naturally. You stretched your arms and yawned. At the same time, Bakugou was also just getting up. The moment your eyes saw each other and saw how you were positioned, blush immediately appeared around your cheeks and you both separated from each other. Thank god you guys woke up before anyone saw you like that, you thought. But the soldiers had already seen you two together.

A/N: I’d love to hear what you have to say about this chapter! Lots of fluff so far! I literally can’t wait for the drama to begin but we gotta build up to it! Any drama you want to see happen? Let’s spice this baby up!

Also let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter! Spoiler: danger next chapter???? Can’t wait to see you next Monday! Thanks for all the love <3 I love you guys so much!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma​ @bakugousmrs​

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Can we have a scenario where Alcina brings the girls up to the Beneviento estate to spend springtime with Donna and Angie?

It had been a hectic few days.

The trip had been planned for quite some time, all the way back in the middle of winter, when Alcina approached her during one of the routinely meetings saying that her daughters wanted to visit her. Donna remembered the thrill that had rushed throughout her, and it was only her black shawl that kept her sister from seeing her eyes sparkle like a child’s on Christmas morning.

“They’ve been expressing wanting to see you for awhile,” Alcina had said. “And who am I to say to them? If you’re okay with them coming over, of course. I understand if you don’t want to. They can be a bit...much.”

But before Alcina could even finish the whole sentence, Donna was already shaking her head.

“You’ll allow them over?”

A vigorous nod.

Alcina smiled. “Wonderful. They’ll be ecstatic.”

Unfortunately, the meeting had to be postponed until the warmer months, as Alcina didn’t want her daughters going out when the snow was still fresh, but the minute the mountains thawed of their ice and spring swung into full bloom, Donna quickly found herself counting the days until House Beneviento was finally filled by her nieces.

When the day eventually came, it was even more of a dream than she had been expecting.

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were absolute angels. Flesh-eating, razor-toothed angels, but angels nonetheless. Angie had leapt straight out of her arms to go and greet them when the horse-drawn carriage pulled up to the front gates, wiggling right through the gothic black bars and sprinting over before the giant horses could even come to a complete stop. She was just as excited as Donna was.

“They’re basically my nieces, too, you know,” Angie had said an hour before the arrival of the bug-spawn. “Aunt Angie! That’s me!”

The girls adored her. Cassandra and Daniela bonded well with Angie’s mischievous energy, while Bela was always fascinated with how alive she was. Angie thoroughly enjoyed all the attention.

“Remember, if they get cold, run them a hot bath and wrap them up in as many blankets as you can find,” Alcina rattled off to Donna while her daughters and Angie were roughhousing in the courtyard. “But if they get too hot, let them have a lukewarm bath. Not a cold one! Cold baths are a huge negative. Oh, and no decaying flesh! They have class and it upsets their stomachs. Also they’re very cuddly, so—”

Donna gently touched her sister’s arm and smiled up at her warmly, silently assuring her that it would be alright.

Alcina released a breath, then nodded. “My apologies. I just get worried. Maternal instincts. Being a mother has made me soft.”

Donna laughed softly, then squeezed Alcina’s arm.

After goodbyes were said and the carriage departed with a billowing of dust and cracking of hooves, Donna was left with her beloved nieces.

“Let’s go play Chicken by the cliffs!!” Angie yelled. “Don’t tell your mom!”

The first night the girls’ were over, Donna did a routinely sweep throughout each of their rooms, making sure they were all comfortable, and she found tears of joy welling up in her eyes as she did so. She couldn’t remember the last time her house had ever been filled like it was now. Suddenly, the cold hallways were warmed, which shouldn’t have been possible because her nieces couldn’t produce body heat, and yet she felt so cozy when she was with them, so secure and wanted.

Her nieces wanted her.

The next few days were characterized by games, laughter, and many stories. She learned so much about her beautiful nieces, like how Daniela loved cheesy romance books and Cassandra fully believed she could fight an army of chickens in hand-to-hand combat and win (she gave her a presentation on it) and Bela knew how to tie a really sturdy noose. Donna had double taked on that last one. Bela smiled at her innocently.

There were other things she learned, too, things she didn’t even know the girls could do. The first time she saw Daniela vomit on her food and watched it melt had her completely bewildered. Or when she saw that Bela’s blood had a green pigmentation on it, she was starstruck in awe. Or when she heard the PURRING—

Alcina never said anything about purring. And yet, when the girls snuggled up to her one evening and they began to make the distinct rumbling sound, she just about blacked out from pure joy and adorableness. And to think she thought they couldn’t have gotten any cuter...

But there was more. Darker things, this time.

Her nieces had issues, as everyone did. And one night, these issues really came to life, and she had to step up to be the comforting maternal figure in Alcina’s stead.

Donna had always been a light sleeper. She believed she had the house to thank for that. When you lived in a mansion as quiet as her own, you tended to pick up on the little sounds, like a creak in the floorboards or a thump in a room all the way on the other side of the house. Or, in this case, a whimper.

She sat up instantly. Angie did the same, and they both exchanged looks before getting out of bed and going to investigate.

“What do you think it is?” Angie asked in a whisper.

Donna shrugged.

She checked the closest room first: Cassandra was inside, muttering and growling in her sleep. She kept snapping her teeth at the air, twitching her claws like she was trying to fend off some unseen enemy, and Donna quickly realized she was sleep-fighting. She seemed to be winning, too. Nothing about her form exuded distress, so Donna left her to her dream battle and went to the next room.

Inside, Daniela had somehow managed to kick off all of her blankets and was now curled in the upper corner, most likely very cold. Donna hurriedly swaddled her back in the covers, adding an extra quilt just to be safe, and Daniela purred softly in her sleep in contentment at the warmth. Donna smiled lovingly at her before creeping out.

One sister left.

In her room, Bela was twitching in her bed, much like Cassandra, but her face was scrunched up and she was breathing harshly. She was having a nightmare.

Donna metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. It was time to be the world’s best aunt.

Creeping over to the bed, Donna extended a hand and stroked Bela’s forehead. The skin beneath her fingers was damp, she noticed. She didn’t think the girls could sweat, so it must have been some kind of substitute liquid secreted in times of great stress. And Bela was definitely stressed.

Bela kept jerking and whimpering, locked securely in whatever horrors her mind was playing for her. There were tear marks on her cheeks, and Donna gently thumbed them away.

Bowing her head low, Donna murmured soothing words in Bela’s ear, hoping she would hear her. She read somewhere that outside effects can sometimes get into dreams. She hoped that was the case here.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to be able to find out because Angie decided to step in and did so by jumping directly on Bela’s stomach.

Bela awoke with a gasp, which quickly turned into a wheeze, as she seemed to have been winded by Angie’s “help.” She pawed around the bedsheets, eyes wide and rolling in her skull. Donna gently touched her shoulder, and she jerked to her in panic.

“M-Mama?” Bela croaked. She sounded so scared, so young; it broke Donna’s heart.

Donna shook her head.

“A-Aunt Donna?”

She nodded.

“Aunt Donna,” Bela whimpered, keeling over into her chest, crying.

Instantly, Donna wrapped the weeping girl in her arms. She slid into the bed fully, holding Bela against her warmth, hoping that she would be able to replicate what Alcina did well enough to comfort her.

And it worked, it seemed, because Bela began to slowly calm down, especially when she started stroking her head and whispering to her again.

“It’s alright now,” she murmured huskily. “You’re alright, little moth. Your aunt’s got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Yep. She was definitely the best aunt ever.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Libel (Part 2)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: John, Scott, Grandma, Tracy Family

Day 6 “touch and go” for @whumptober-archive and for the prompt bruises my muses decided to add on to my day 3 chapter, so have a rather displeased John.  I’m not expecting this one to go any further, but then again I wasn’t expecting to add onto it at all, so who knows what’ll happen the rest of this month.

<<< Part 1

Grandma was waiting for them when they got home, the smell of something heavenly and clearly take-out wafting through the front door as it opened, and John felt a flash of guilt for forgetting to warn her about Scott’s physical condition when her mouth parted slightly in clear shock.

Scott’s weight had increased against him slowly but steadily as they’d finished the trek home, until his head was resting against John’s and his arm hung awkwardly around his shoulder. His eyes were rimmed with an angry red, and salted tear tracks cut down across the blossoming bruises.  One eye, in addition to the tell-tale sign of crying, was swelling shut with a purple-black mark blooming around it, but while that was the worst mark on his face, there was barely any untouched skin. The exposed arms were also littered with colour, including vibrant handprints that told a story all of their own.

John was certain that Scott’s t-shirt was concealing more.

“What happened?” Grandma demanded after a moment, swooping in and gingerly cupping Scott’s face in her hands.  His brother’s messenger bag dropped to the floor, and John let his own do the same without ever relinquishing his grip around Scott’s waist.  Scott was clearly feeling the emotional damage more than the physical, but that didn’t mean that the physical didn’t promise pain in his brother’s future.

The weight against him increased again as Scott sagged at the question.  John couldn’t see his face very well from his angle, but considering how wrecked his big brother was about the whole thing – and understandably so, in John’s furious opinion – he couldn’t envisage him repeating the tale again.

“Bullies,” he said shortly, enough to give an answer without tormenting Scott further by retelling the whole thing in his earshot.  At some point the rest of the family needed to know that Scott and Christie were no longer together – preferably before one of them made an innocent comment – but he wasn’t going to dredge that up in Scott’s vicinity.

In his pocket, Scott’s phone hadn’t stopped vibrating with incoming messages.  If they were all along the same vein as the ones John had seen initially, he was very glad he’d decided to, for all intents and purposes, confiscate his big brother’s phone.  He’d probably need to change his number before it was safe to give it back.

“Terrible children,” Grandma muttered beneath her breath, before slowly stepping back and letting her hands reluctantly part with Scott’s face.  “Your dinner’s in the kitchen and your brothers are upstairs in bed.”  Had they stayed out that late?  “Alan’s sharing with Virgil and Gordon tonight so you two don’t need to worry about him.”  That was a relief – John loved Alan, and neither he nor Scott minded sharing a bedroom with the youngest, but tonight the last thing Scott needed was Alan’s innocent blue eyes forcing him to struggle to hold himself together.

Dinner sounded – and smelled – inviting.  Grandma had taken his warning text seriously and gone straight for Scott’s favourites, from the smell of it.  It was definitely a pleasant surprise in John’s book, and he hoped that Scott was up for trying to stomach at least some of the comfort food.  If nothing else, the apple pie, whose cinnamon-tinted scent was wafting through invitingly, should entice his brother in.

Scott hadn’t said a word since choking out what had to be an extremely brief summary of events, and his silence continued as he kicked off his sneakers – still not separating from John for a single moment.

It was familiar behaviour;going to a brother for comfort when the world went mad was a common tactic, but the brother they all went to was Scott.  He was never the one seeking comfort – that is, until now, and John couldn’t blame him in the slightest, so he stayed close and kept one arm around his brother without saying anything, hoping that it would help Scott as much as Scott’s presence always helped him.

“Get some food in your stomachs,” Grandma instructed.  “Scott, have you taken any painkillers?”

Hair rustled in John’s ear as Scott shook his head.  He still didn’t say a word and John rubbed his back gently.

“I’ll get you some,” she said, ushering them through the kitchen door.  “Once you’ve eaten, Scott, I want you to take a hot bath.”  She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing, leaving John to guide his brother over to the table, where Scott’s favourite burger waited.

To his relief, Scott didn’t need any convincing to eat, although the way he mechanically took each bite told John that he wasn’t really tasting it.  The apple pie went down a little better – while Scott still didn’t speak, or smile, his mouthfuls seemed to be a little more organic, and irregularly frequent.  John ate his own in equal silence, aware of the still-vibrating phone in his pocket but refusing to check the messages while Scott was next to him.

Grandma reappeared with Tylenol and a cold compress as Scott sipped at the soda, both of which were gratefully received, even if Scott’s reaction remained unusually muted.  Still, he finished his meal, accepted the painkillers without a fuss, and let Grandma press the compress gently over his swollen-shut eye, which was as much as John could ask, given the situation.

All the while, Scott stayed in physical contact with him, leaning in and seemingly trusting John to hold him up so he didn’t fall to the floor.  It felt rather like a metaphor, so when Grandma eased the compress back again several minutes later and nudged Scott towards the bathroom where she promised a nice, warm bath was waiting for him he didn’t hesitate to escort him.

The door clicked shut behind them and Scott sank onto the tiled floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. John settled down beside him and put his arm around him again, letting his brother lean in to the touch.  Silence continued to reign.

Outside the room, he could hear the running feet of several brothers – probably all of them – and the subsequent scolding for running in the house, followed by a reminder that they should be in bed and that they’d see their eldest brothers in the morning. John would be very surprised if no black or blond heads poked into his and Scott’s room during the night.  Dad was moving around, apparently finally appearing from his office for food, and John heard the outraged outburst as Grandma no doubt told him about Scott.

At least John could be confident that Scott wouldn’t be allowed into school tomorrow – with both Grandma and Dad on the warpath, his brother would be kept safely at home, likely not doing any work at all, although he might poke at some of his preferred subjects.

Speaking of his brother, Scott was showing no signs of getting in the water.  John nudged him gently.  “It’s going to get cold,” he prompted.  “Do you want me to leave?”

His brother groaned lightly, but straightened enough to yank at his top.  John shifted out of the way as the fabric came off over messy brown hair, and did his best not to let his reaction show on his face.

As suspected, Scott’s torso was awful.  Bruises littered the skin, the fabric doing almost nothing to protect it from the blows it had taken, leaving it a rainbow of red hues.  One in particular caught John’s attention – a large, darker area that sprawled across one side as though it’d been hit multiple times in quick succession. It took him a moment to yank his eyes away, shifting his entire body until Scott was out of view, and not turning back until water splashed and then stilled again.

Only his brother’s head and shoulders were visible over the edge of the bath, complete with one arm hanging over the side, fingertips just brushing the cool tiles of the floor. The heat of the water was rapidly adding even more pink to Scott’s skin, as though it needed it when there were enough broken blood vessels below his brother’s skin to change the hue all by themselves.  Even with the painkillers Grandma had bestowed, John knew Scott was in for a sleepless night.

Then again, the heartbreak probably hurt more than everything else put together.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again, already gathering his legs underneath himself in preparation.

“No,” Scott rasped, the first word he’d spoken since returning home.  His voice sounded scraped raw and weak, and John obediently settled back down again.  “Please.���

John was going to destroy everyone who had a hand in reducing his big brother to this.  There would be no mercy, and a large number of them were obligingly making his life much easier by blowing up Scott’s phone with messages his brother would never see hide nor hair of.

“Okay,” he agreed, settling his back against the toilet and shifting around until it was halfway comfortable. From that angle, Scott couldn’t see anything that might be on a phone screen, so while his big brother soaked in an attempt to ease the bruising, John got to work.

First was a message to Grandma from his own phone, giving her the basic rundown of events.  She didn’t reply, but she did leave him on read, so he knew she had seen it.

There was no doubt in John’s mind that she would do everything in her considerable influence and power to make sure Scott didn’t have to go in to school again, or at least until it all blew over.  His big brother was in good hands.

Still, John was not about to let things lie himself, either.  Scott’s phone was a veritable goldmine of information, and while there was little John could do without his laptop, he could at least take note of the names sending threats and begin to scheme how he was going to get revenge.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Quiet sobs that started up after a while, muffled in a way that sounded like Scott had a hand or arm over his mouth.  John reached out for the dangling arm and tangled his fingers lightly with Scott’s even as he scoured his way through the social media of Christie’s two brothers, looking for the most damaging place to hit them back.  If he played it right, he could ruin their football aspirations with a neat black mark on their record.

Oh, he understood why they’d reacted the way they had – if he’d gone to Scott and said someone had hurt him, there was no way Scott wouldn’t have launched himself straight into the situation entirely on his side.  That didn’t mean John was going to spare them from retribution; he wasn’t that benevolent.

Christie herself he left for the moment.  If he was going to hurt everyone who had hurt Scott, he was going to destroy the girl behind it all in the first place, and that would require his full attention. It would be most efficient to eliminate everyone else involved first.

From the state of Scott’s phone, it was a long list of targets, but John was nothing if not thorough as he sifted through the hateful messages.

Some of them were truly vile, and there were threats in there that made John feel sick just thinking about them.  He set those aside to show Grandma; some things needed an adult’s intervention to handle effectively, and he was certain that some of the threats were jail-worthy if acted upon.

Scott had barely moved since getting into the bath, and John wondered if he was falling asleep in the pleasant warmth.  Part of him hoped so; it was much better than wallowing in negative thoughts, especially ones he didn’t deserve.  He squeezed his brother’s fingers lightly and was rewarded with a twitch in return.

His brother still didn’t talk.  Not when he stopped crying again, wiping away tears with a wet arm.  Not when Grandma lightly knocked on the door to suggest that they get ready for bed.  Not when he got out of the bath, either, skin pruned and wrinkly, and John averted his gaze so he didn’t see anything he didn’t want to as Scott slowly dried off.

Dad was waiting when they left the bathroom, Scott wrapped up snugly in his favourite pyjamas, and wordlessly folded Scott into a big, warm hug which his big brother sank into bonelessly.  John took the chance to slip away, finding Grandma downstairs and slipping her Scott’s phone.

She took one look at the first message on the screen and her face turned to granite.

“Neither of you are going to school tomorrow,” she told him.  John hadn’t expected to be included in that, but it was clear there was no arguing.  It worked in his favour anyway; vengeance would be easier to enact using his laptop without the prying eyes of hovering classmates.  “And whatever you’re planning, John, don’t get caught.”

She followed him back up the stairs.  Dad and Scott had migrated into their bedroom and John took the chance to get into his own pyjamas – although sleep wasn’t on his agenda just yet – before going to join them.

A door creeping open as he passed caught his attention and he paused to see three pairs of worried eyes peering out.

“Is Scott okay?”  Alan was the one that spoke, not yet aware of the nuances of the indoor voice, but making a good go at whispering regardless.  John could see the question reflected in two pairs of brown eyes as well and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“He broke up with Christie,” he explained, keeping his own voice low enough that there was no way the brother in question would be able to hear from down the hall.  It was Virgil’s eyes he met, knowing that he was the only one old enough to comprehend what his next words would mean.  “It was a bad breakup.”  Sure enough, chestnut brown eyes widened.

“But is he okay?” Gordon asked, frowning, and John swallowed, not wanting to lie, but not wanting them to worry, either.

He settled on shrugging.  “He will be.”  I hope.

They surged forwards, apparently taking that as an invitation to go see him, and John had to plant himself firmly in the doorway to stop them. There was no way Scott would want them to see him in his current state.

“Tomorrow,” he said, somewhat sharply.  “He needs space right now.”

They grumbled malcontentedly, but he stood firm, pulling upon his rarely used big brother clout to get them to obey until the door closed again.

In all likelihood, they’d be sneaking in later, but hopefully Scott would be less visibly distraught by then.

John padded into his bedroom and headed straight for his bed.  Dad was sitting with Scott on his brother’s bed, arms firmly around him and one hand running through his hair as he sobbed. From the way he was slumped, and the weakness of the sobs, Scott was on the cusp of sleep.  John wasn’t naïve enough to think that he’d sleep all through the night, not with all those bruises, but he’d gladly support any sleep Scott could get.

For his part, he pulled up his phone and continued scrolling through the names of Scott’s year mates.  Most of them had left a message on his phone.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Dad cautioned suddenly and he jumped, checking the time to see it was much later than he’d realised.  Scott was neatly tucked into bed, the vision of a perfect slumber ruined by the tear tracks down his face.

“I won’t,” he shrugged, an acknowledgement but not a promise.  “Night, Dad.”

“Goodnight, John.”  He was pulled into a brief hug, kiss pressed against his brow, before Dad slipped out of the room, leaving him with his sleeping brother.

Armed with his laptop, phone, and the simmering fury kept at a boil by the sight of his battered brother, John got to work.

[salty-sith-bitch]

Here's a little prompt for Din and reader! Hopefully it can spark something 💙

Maybe Din takes Reader to a snowy planet and they haven't seen snow before or in a really long time, so their just mesmerized by it and just amusing him.

I hope you enjoy! As always my mind just sort of takes off when writing so I’m hoping this is close to what you asked for 😘

Cin'ciri (snow)

Rating: G

Genre: fluff, angst

Words:2352

Ao3

Din stood over you and your cot, a wicked grin under his helmet. He watched as you snored peacefully, oblivious to what he was about to do. He almost felt bad for disturbing your slumber.

Almost.

This was worth waking you and definitely worth the brief moment you'd be upset at him. He knew as soon as you awoke and discovered the reason for being ripped from your lazy dreaming you'd be overjoyed.

Chuckling to himself Din packed the snow that was in his hand into a soft ball. Taking a step back from your cot, he chucked the lump of snow. The ball hit you squarely in the chest and upon impact disbursed Into a flurry of white powder causing you to shudder and startle awake.

Confusion filled your cloudy mind as you woke. You felt something cold spread through you as the air was ripped from your chest. The frostiness quickly turned wet making you uncomfortable and displeased. Still gasping for air you heard chuckling that quickly turned into full hearty laughter.

Sitting up you found Din standing at the end of your cot doubled over in laughter. Shrieking, you pulled the blankets over your head and flopped back down.

"Daaaaaaaad! It's too early. It's my day off." Your voice was agitated and muffled by your pillow.

"Ad'ika," Din said between breaths as he recovered from laughing. "Come look outside."

"Whyyyyyy," you wailed into your pillow. It had been a while since you got a good amount of sleep and were simply not pleased your father was trying to drag you out of bed on your day off.

Clicking his tongue at you, Din squeezed one of your blanket-covered feet. "Fine then. Grogu and I will go and enjoy the snow by ourselves."

Snow?

Your brain kicked into hyperdrive at the word. That coldness you had just felt was your father throwing a snowball at you. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Din wouldn't admit it but he has a soft spot and could be silly at times and it made your world oh so bright. And now it was even brighter as you thought about the snow outside.

You bolted upright in bed and quickly threw the covers off. Frigid temperatures greeted you as soon as you climbed out of your little nook and bolted for the open ramp. Din watched as you ran toward the ramp and slid across the slick floor of the Razor Crest in your warm socks; almost causing you to collide with the wall.

Squealing you jumped up and down pointing outside as you turned to look at Din.

Having removed his helmet, you could see the gleaming grin on his face. And even swore you could see his excitement at the thought of a day off playing with his family.

Giggling and shrieking you vibrated with energy as you danced around on your toes.

"Snow!" You exclaimed, pointing outside.

Din chuckled, coming up to you and ruffling your hair.

"Yes, ad'ika. Now go get dressed. Grogu has been waiting impatiently."

Running across the hull floor once again, you were unable to stop yourself from sliding into the wall where your pack was. Smacking into the wall with am 'oomph' you picked up your clothes and high tailed it for the fresher.

Shaking his head, Din set his helmet back on his head and went to finish bundling up Grogu.

***

Snow has a special place in your heart. It brought back memories of your family. Your blood family.

It brought back memories of snow days when you were younger and a true child, so innocent and not having to worry about anything in the galaxy. It brought memories of warm cocoa mother would make and build snowmen with your brother.

When it would snow back home your father would have the day off, closing his shop due to lack of safe travel, and your mother, being the caring woman she was, would still head into town and work a partial day at the cantina, making sure everyone who needed warm food was supplied with it. You'd spend a good majority of the morning playing in the snow with your father and brother, tossing snowballs, building forts, and occasionally making snow angels here and there. Your mother would always arrive back around noon with cocoa and soup to warm you. Snow boots would be shuck at the door and fresh clothes put on after a warm bath. You'd eat and laugh by the fire the rest of the evening playing games, reading to brother, and watching your mother scold your father every time he would chuck a snowball at her that he snuck into the house.

 Even as the years went by and you got older you'd still find yourself outside enjoying the blissfulness of having nothing to worry about. You'd make forts and battle your father, pelting him with snow. You'd find yourself melting into the floor as you and your mother sang songs in your native language by the fire. And you would always still try to suppress that giggle when your father snuck in the snowballs helping him on occasion.

Now it was different. But also not.

Looking out towards Grogu he saw him waddling around collecting snow and making little people reminding you of your brother. And Din, who surprisingly was enjoying the snow, tossing snowballs at you ever so often reminded you of father.

But this was not your brother nor father. And mother wouldn't be there with soup to warm you or sing songs in the evening. The snow people Grogu made were smaller and Din was sneakier with his ambushes.

You, yourself were also not the same. Being older and now constantly worrying about losing your family again reminded you of just how much your life had changed.

Huffing you shoved your hands further into your coat pockets, continuing to watch Grogu as he waddles over to you, snow in hand. Tilting his head he extended the lump out to you and cooed as if trying to ask you to shape it for him.

Chuckling and nodding you squatted and took the snow from him, gently packing it. When you stuck out your hand to give it back the ball went flying from your hand and zoomed past you. Turning your head you watched as the ball made an impact with Din's chest.

Snowball in his hand, Din waggled his finger.

"Grogu," he said with a bit of laughter.

Grogu's ears dropped as he made a noise and looked at his father.

"That's cheating you little womp rat. I was gonna ambush ori vod."

Rolling your eyes you smirked at Grogu and swiftly picked up and packed your own lump of snow. Quickly standing you turned and launched the ball of snow at Din.

Both you and Grogu cheered when it hit Din's pauldron. Grogu threw his hands up and parked his ears as you did a little victory jump.

Stiffening Din looked at his shoulder then back to you. Placing his hands on his hips he nodded his head slightly.

"So that's how we're gonna play. Two against one?" Kneeling Din picked up more snow. "You get a ten-second head start. Ten, nine, eight-"

Eyes widening in horror you looked down and made eye contact with Grogu.

"Ready little buddy?"

Grogu cooed at you again, also wide-eyed, and reached up.

Scooping up the youngling you took off running for the snow barricade you had made earlier, leaving a trail of laughter behind.

***

You played in the snow for countless hours. Together you and Grogu kept sneaking up on Din and pelting him with snowballs. And on occasion - despite Din thinking it was cheating- Grogu would use the force to nail mando in the back.

At one point you looked at your father gleefully, sticking your tongue out.

"For a Mandalorian, we’re taking you down pretty easily with these snowballs."

You couldn't hear his laughter but you could see his frame shaking as he stood with his hands on his knees.

"You good old man?" You teased.

Looking up at the sky for a moment Din took in a deep breath. Pointing a finger at you Din lowered his head and you could feel his piercing gaze through the visor of his helmet.

"If I went any harder on you kid there would probably be crying."

Gasping you scooped up more snow and packed it into a ball.

"You calling me weak?" You stared at him through squinted eyes.

"You called me old!"

"And only one of those statements is true!"

Shaking his head Din started packing snow into a ball.

"Oh, it's on now."

Screaming joyfully you took off running, Grogu at your heels

***

Out of breath and cheeks sore from smiling, you collapsed in the snow, arms and legs spread out as you soaked up the sun. Grogu trudged through the snow to stand but your side. Looking down towards him you watched as he flopped over into the white powder next to you. Giggling you reached down and strokes one of his ears lovingly, causing him to smile and coo at you.

In the distance, sitting on the ramp to the Crest Din watched as you made snow angels with Grogu, a smile hidden underneath his helmet. He was practically glowing with joy and warmth seeing how happy the two of you were. Feeling as if his heart might burst out of his chest Din wondered what his own childhood would have been like if he hasn't lost his parents.

He wondered if his parents would have ever taken him out for a snow day much like he did for you and Grogu - his own children. Longing and wishing for what could have been his life only filled the hole in his chest so much though. What he has in front of him is what brought him true bliss. You ana Grogu were his world - literally and figuratively.

He should have been hunting for a bounty today, planning his next steps and heading towards whatever planet that resided on while you took the day to rest and have downtime. That was the responsible thing to do, but when the snow started to fall not long after you and Grogu went to sleep be couldn't help but enjoy the idea of a family day. A day where you could be young and have nothing to worry about. A day to stretch your legs and bond.

Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall Din continues to watch the two of you laughing and rolling in the snow in the distance. When you turned to wave at him at stick out your tongue his smile grew.

***

Lunch was later than usual but you were ok with that. You had enjoyed your time in the snow even if it meant dealing with a slight butt hurt Din Djarin who didn't want to admit he lost I'm your snowball fight. Non the less the soup you ate and the cocoa you sipped still warmed you. Not as much as the unexpected family time had warmed your soul, however.

You watched as Grogu fought sleep in his father’s arms as he sipped his cocoa. Eventually, his eyes fall shut and light snores filled the silence of the Crest hull. Din rose from his seat quietly and made his way towards his and Grogu's sleeping quarters. Sighing heavily you rubbed your own tiredness from your eyes. Standing you collected and discarded your dishes then made your way to your own cot.

It was chillier over here than by the heater so you opted to instead grab your blanket and a pillow and made your way back to the heater.

Sitting against the wall you let your eyes drift shut. Pulling your blanket up towards your face you nuzzled your nose into the worn fabric, smelling the lingering scent of your old home. The world around you disappeared as you drifted off to sleep

Half asleep you heard gentle footsteps approach felt a hand gently nudge you.

"Ad'ika?"

"Mm?" You looked up lazily at Din squatting next to you.

"You were humming in your sleep."

Yawning, you rubbed your eyes again and looked at him. He didn't have any of his beskar on and you could smell fresh soap; a telltale sign he must have been getting ready for bed.

"’ M’sorry," you mumbled.

Turning and sliding down the wall next to you Din smiled. "It's ok. It was nice. Reminds me of-"

"Home," you said weekly.

Din's face fell slightly. "Yeah."

"My mother and I used to sing around the fire every night it snowed. She would rock my brother to sleep as I sewed. Before my brother, she would sing and I would dance with my father." Swallowing the lump in your throat you swiped the blanket across your face to rid the fallen tears. "Snow days were special for us. It meant family time and getting to just be with each other. No other worries. No chores or worrying about mother making it home safe from the cantina. Sometimes I feel like I can still hear my brother's giggles or my father's feet crunching in the snow as he tried to sneak up on me."

Letting out a soft sign Din pulled you into his side.

"My mother used to sing to me too. When I couldn't sleep or when she would give me baths. My father would sometimes join in and my mother would scold him teasingly for ruining a beautiful song with his garish voice."

You both chuckled at the thought.

"I wish I could remember what her voice sounded like."

Frowning you looked at your adoptive father. "I do too."

Sighing heavily Din pulled you in tighter to his side and kissed the crown of your head.

"Get some rest ad'ika."

Shutting your eyes you rested your head on Din's shoulder and let sleep wrap you in its warmth.

You hadn't been asleep very long when you heard a deep humming filling your dreams.

Tag List:  @g0ldenlush @sweet-silver @piscespussybabe

[chrolloctrl]

How would be the adult trio in love ?? I'm really looking forward to your writing 😳😳💖💖💖🙏😎

omg this is something i’ve been thinking about so long since i feel like some people REALLY don’t write the adultrio well when they are in love. of course they are all borderline psychotic but i do not think they are incapable of love. i said what i said anyways let me continue

im going to do this as a head canon if thats okay!! if you want me eventually develop a specific character into a one shot i definitely will:)

warnings: like some mention of blood and fighting, maybe a lil mention of sexual things, nothing too bad tho theres one really explicit blood/gore mention in hisokas but that is a very hisoka thing so i have decided to leave it there

first i’m doing illumi bc yall miss with illumi so hard

okay so

first of all, he was a definitely a child with an avoidant attachment style

basically when mummy was there he was annoyed, when mummy left he didn’t care or was probably happy, and when mummy came back he was annoyed once again

this child did not experience love as a child

not once

zip

zero

nada

so u have to be patient with him im sorry to say

but it isn’t impossible

i think when he’s in love, he doesn’t realize it

he thinks he’s just in a sort of...agreement with you

but im telling u right now.. small acts of kindness are his love language

like if u guys were in a fight together and there was blood on ur clothes he would wash them and lay them on ur bed

and then u would be like “ok u didn’t have to do that thats so nice”

and he’d be like “i dont know what ur talking about”

and walk away

or

he would see like a book or something u like and read it just because u liked it too

he wouldn’t tell u tho he would just randomly bring up something from the book 

and you would be like “oh u read it?” 

and he would be like “no why would u think that”

and you would be like “:|”

with illumi u just have to be patient, i think eventually he would catch himself making ur bed one day and he would be like “fuck”

and realize he might have a thing for u

but he wouldnt believe it bc he is oh so emotionless and does not feel one thing at all

but he does he is just a liar

i think he would make his first move when he accidentally lets out all the emotions hes been faking not having and like just cries wishing he were loved and ur like

“i love u though illumi, a lot”

and he would just kiss u and like hug ur for 3 hours and then make u not talk about it ever again but u guys would just be in love and killua would be kinda pressed but he’d be happy u were illumi’s gon <3

okay let’s do chrollo next im sorry illumi’s was so long 

alright

as u can tell i am in love with this man

and everyone always bashes me bc he has no screentime and a pretty basic anime antagonist backstory

but out of all of the adultrio i think he falls in love the easiest and with someone nobody expects

like he is a mass murderer and thief and ur like...a flower shop worker

he would just be walking in yorknew city and see u reading some obsecure ass russian literature while working at a flower shop and he’d be like “wait im intrigued”

then he would talk to u and u would be like

:D

but also calm and reserved

and he would love that, someone who just vibes not a worry in the world

but then as he gets to know u he realizes u r not just a body bag who vibes

u r a human with actual emotions

something he probably swears he doesnt have

he would tell the rest of the troupe that ur just like...an experiment

and they would all buy it EXCEPT machi

she would be like “omg boss ur in love”

and chrollo would be like “um i dont feel that sry to say”

and machi would be like “ya sure lol”

you have no idea who he is like no clue he is the lead spider

but okay omg this part is gonna be corny

you would like hehe sorry im laughing thinking ab this

walking around yorknew city and he would almost step on a spider and u would be like “no!!! be careful!!” and pick up the spider and lightly set it into the grass

and chrollo would be like “why would u do that spiders r scary...right” *looks into the camera like hes on the office*

and u would be like “no..even spiders have feelings u know”

and then he would just like absolutely lose it he’d maintain composure but on the inside he would be like dhdkhduwojhfw

then he would kiss u and then he would finally tell the troupe the truth and machi would be sooo smug 

oh and the troupe def likes u like that is a given

ur just so innocent and sweet its like impossible not to like u u make everyone put away their tough guy acts

and then ya u guys probably read to each other u weird fucks

but its cute and i love

alright now for probably the person who would take the longest to love someone 

i dont know if u have read hisokas backstory one shot but i will try to explain the best i can

hisoka was in circus. lead man of circus say hisoka talented. lead man train hisoka to use nen. hisoka learns nen very fast. oh no serial killer is on the loose. oh no girl in circus almost get killed by serial killer. hisoka save girl. hisoka accuse lead man of being serial killer. lead man say yes lol i am. hisoka say okay i want 2 fight. lead man say sure lol i will kill u. hisoka kill lead man and girl in circus wonders where hisoka and lead man went.

okay now that thats out of the way

the girls name was abaki and i think hisoka liked her ngl

but that was before u know he got all gassed by killing lead man

he definitely thinks similar to illumi in the way that u r just a pawn in his plans

but u r def super strong and he is shook

he probably wants to fight u

but he still doesnt think ur strong enough

u live ur own life separately from his so he doesnt know much ab what u do in ur free time

one day he catches u training with someone else

and he won’t say it but hes lowkey pissed af

hes like “um wtf why didnt u ask me to train u

and ur like “literally why would i ever do that”

and hes like “what u think i cant train”

and ur like “u can barely control ur bloodlust hisoka :|” 

hes like “yeah u know ur right i guess”

but he doesnt stop thinking ab it bc like why wouldnt u train with him

u decide to go on ur own lil mission and try to fight someone you’ve been wanting to fight for a while

you invite hisoka just to watch, you tell him you just want him to sit around this time since you always sit around and watch him

he expects u to get beat to a pulp ngl

but you like completely obliterate the other person

this is too niche but u have such a gory fighting style. like ur def batshit crazy in a fight and loose all composure 

hisoka is shook bc he did not expect u to go that crazy

u like bite the other dudes jugular and blood splatters every where

that was so gross but idk im into that weird shit sorry im tw’ing that

but hisoka is a weird mf so that def makes him horny for u

he like takes u back to ur house while ur covered in blood and theres a crazy look in ur eye still

and he realizes hes in love with u bc ur just as crazy as him

i feel like ur guys relationships spawns bc of how crazy u both are. u guys probably summon demons for fun

i feel like his love language is more i do for u what u do for me

like if u save his ass in a fight, he’ll watch a cheesy movie for u

its def a give and receive vibe but it works

or if he saves ur ass he makes u guys take a bath together

and ur like “this is so cheesy”

and hes like “um ur having fun tho right” *crickets* “yea thats what i thought”

muah gonna think ab this before i go to bed

alr i think i wrote WAYYY too much omg these are all so long i am so sorry, too many thought in brain keyboard go woosh

hope u liked it though <3

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 07 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

If You Love Me...

You've seen death. Often, cruel, cold. From afar and from up close. You felt it, in many different ways. At first when your family passed away, then your friends... And you felt it in your body too, in the months you spent held captive, wishing for it. And in the car, as you waited for it.

But it's different now. You were holding onto Melanie when she stopped moving, stopped breathing, the second after the baby cried for the very first time. Her whole body went numb, turned off. She knew her pregnancy was dangerous. Melanie is old, and she had a heart condition. That was the reason why she never tried for a baby before. But now, with the world on its end, she decided to try. Death is certain, she told you once, and if she died in the process of delivering her child, she'd die happy. With a purpose.

But of course, you never thought it would actually happen.

The commotion that followed happened in a blur. Carol passed you the child in a hurry, pushing you out of the room.

You know what happens now. Daryl told you a while ago. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone is infected. You try not to think about it, to focus on life instead of death.

And that's what you're holding in your arms now. Life. Tiny and fresh, his little cries making your body move out of instinct, slowly swinging from side to side until he's quiet again.

When it's done, and Melanie's dead body won't raise up again, Carol comes and you help her clean the baby. Luke, after her late husband. Denise is quick to gather all the baby supplies needed, and she starts telling you and Carol what to do. Carol already knows, of course, because of her daughter Sofia.

It's quite obvious Carol will take care of the child. It's implied by how Denise is so focused on her, talking fast, gesturing a lot. She's a little funny actually, and easy to talk to. Once little Luke is clean and dressed in his first clothes, in a pale shade of blue, Carol picks him up and he starts crying, with powerful lungs. She starts mumbling, talking to the baby, but he doesn't stop.

“Alright, alright.” She whispers. “Shh.”

“Does he need anything?” You ask, watching as Carol bounces him slowly.

“We did everything. Maybe he's in pain.” Denise removes some of the hair that has fallen on her face. “Let's take him to the infirmary so I can take a look.”

“Ok.” Carol agrees, raising her voice above the baby's cries. “(Y/N), can you carry him? These bags are too heavy for you and–” You quickly step forward, once again welcoming the baby into your arms “–you still need to be careful with your...” Her voice fades as Luke stops crying, his tears shining on his cheeks.

He's so light you feel like you're barely holding anything. “He stopped,” Denise mutters. “I don't think he was in pain.”

Looking down at the baby, you stand there, motionless. “What do you think it was?” You ask in a low voice.

“Uhm, I don't know. Maybe he likes you.” She mumbles, hands on her hips. “Carol, do you think you can take care of him? If not we'll have to find a family willing to adopt.”

“We can.” You burst out, because suddenly the idea of giving Like into another family sounds absurd. “Can we? I'm sure you can teach me and I'll help.”

“We sure can.” She affirms, and you smile. “Let's get going now. They will soon come to bury Melanie.” Her voice gets darker in the end, heavier.

The whole city attempted to Melanie's funeral. You stood there, beside Carol, little Luke in your arms. You felt anxious when some people came to meet the baby, offering you their condolences and any help you might need now. But eventually, she's buried, and you can't help but let a few tears roll down. Melanie was always kind and wise, and it breaks your heart that Luke won't get to know his mother.

In the next days, Carol has been teaching you everything about babies. Teaching you how to look after him. The baths, how to prepare the baby bottle, how to deal with fevers, and stuff like that. You make a hell lot of questions, eager to know every single thing you can.

Your days revolve around Luke, what is good because you don't have time to think about Daryl and the possibility of him not wanting anything with you. The possibility that those warm nights in his arms are over.

Carol helps you get into a good schedule with the baby. You take turns waking up when he starts crying at night, but despite him growing used to Carol, she takes longer to rock him to sleep again. Luke feels better around you, she says. And honestly, you don't mind one bit. Carol assures you the cryings will get worse. Newborn babies sleep a lot, and with time, he'll need less sleep and that's when things will get hectic. But you're ok with it. You're mesmerized by him, so tiny, so innocent. A beacon of light in such a dark world. It's like a miracle to have a baby here, in an Earth where now the dead can walk again.

As the days pass by, you notice that you easily learn your way with Luke. Carol calls it mother instinct, but you never thought you had it in you... You never really thought about kids, but now... Maybe you could have one...

This thought reminds you of Daryl. Having a baby means you'll have to be very intimate with someone. And you can't imagine being intimate with anyone who isn't Daryl. Sighing, you look through the window of Luke's bedroom. It used to be Daryl's, but since he's sleeping in yours, Carol thought it would be ok to change things. So all of his stuff were reallocated to give Luke his space. Even though he doesn't need much now, being so little.

You haven't told Daryl about it yet. Your talks are always brief, just enough for you to know he's alright and for him to know you're alright as well.

Today, another sweet and slow morning, you're at the couch, a sleepy Luke in your arms. Carol is doing the dishes and getting some stuff ready for lunch. The kids will be coming, so she has something special planned. You'll help her in a few moments when Luke is asleep enough so you can leave him in his crib upstairs.

“I'm going to make cookies for the afternoon. What do you think?” She asks from the kitchen in a low voice.

“The kids will love it.” You say, turning your head to look at her. “When are you going to tell me your secret ingredient?”

“Never, obviously.” She answers and you giggle. “You would have to–” Her voice fades suddenly, and you listen as she puts something down. “Honey, I think they're back.”

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Let me check.” She says and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Well, not alone. Looking down at Luke, you smile when he moves his hand, grabbing something in his sleep. He's so oblivious to the war happening in your heart now. In your brain. This is it. He's back one day earlier than planned, but even though you knew the time was coming, you couldn't prepare yourself for it. Breathing deeply, you caress Luke's forehead, very lightly as if he's a fragile little thing. His mouth moves a little as if he's trying to speak and you giggle.

“What are you dreaming about, little one?” You ask him, wondering if babies can even dream. Maybe Denise knows, you'll ask her later.

“(Y/N).” His voice startles you, and you immediately look up from Luke, meeting Daryl's blue eyes as he stands by the door.

“D.” Smiling you quickly scan through his body, relieved not to find any sign of injury. “You're back.”

“Aye.” He mumbles. “Ya always have a kid with ya when I come back” He adds, stepping closer to the cough and giving the baby a look. “Who's this?”

“This is Luke. Melanie's baby, she... She couldn't make it.” The happiness fades a little, and Daryl seems a little sad as well.

“Was it her heart?”

“Yeah. It just stopped.” Sighing, you keep your eyes on Daryl. His face softens a little. “She told me once you know... That she'd rather die bringing her child to the world than in any other way but I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Who's gonna take care of him now?”

“I'm the designated mother.” You mumble, smiling.

Daryl looks up from the kid, eyes meeting yours. “By who?” You see a hint of anger in his eyes and you know why. He thinks someone pushed into it, and Daryl hates when people push you into things. Since the very beginning. He did have a fight with Rick when he first showed up here, wanting you to speak about your past. Now it's just a little bit worse. Daryl is very protective, and you can't help but smile to know this hasn't changed. Not yet.

“By him.” Tilting your head to the kid, you giggle when Daryl's face changes, softening again. “Kid likes me, what can I do?”

“Huh.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“Lemme shower. ‘M covered in mud and I don't wanna to give ya or the baby an infection or anythin’.” He says, already moving upstairs.

“Alright.” Settling down again, you bounce Luke a little, but by the looks of it, he's in deep sleep already. “What happens now, little one? Can you please tell me?” In a low voice, you ask him. If only anyone could answer that...

“Where's Daryl?” Carol asks as she comes inside, closing the door.

“Showering.”

“Let me put him in his crib.” She comes to the couch, and you carefully lies Luke in her arms. “You two need to talk.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, watching as she moves upstairs.

You don't want to talk to Daryl. Maybe you shouldn't have spoken to him about your feelings. What if it's too early? Things were perfect before and you don't think you can take it if he wants to... End things? Change things? “Shit.” Quickly, you get up, leaving the house. Running away is not your thing. Not when it comes to Daryl. The only running there is, is when you run into his arms. But now, you just can't. And you don't know where to go. So you just start walking downstreet, trying not to think too much. There isn't anywhere to hide here. If Daryl wants to find you, he will.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and after the usual terror, you recognize Maggie's voice, turning on your heels to look at her. “Daryl's back. Go see him.”

“I-I know.” Stuttering, you look at the street, making sure Daryl isn't anywhere he can see you before you make your way over her. “I just...”

“I thought you two were ok. Before he left I swear to God I thought you'd kiss him.” She climbs down the few steps of the porch, but you gesture for her to go back inside.

“We are.” Maggie has become a close friend. And if you don't talk about this things with someone, nobody will be able to help. “Uhm... I...”

“C'mon in.” She opens the door and steps aside. “Glenn isn't here so don't worry.”

“Ok.” Sighing, you step in, moving to the couch and taking a seat.

“Now...” Maggie comes and sits beside you, a leg folded under herself. “...why aren't you in Daryl's arms right now?”

It's not a secret anymore, Daryl and you. It eventually got out of the house, you don't really know how. “Because I... Goddamn it! I told him I wanted us to be a couple. Right before he left so he could think about it and now I'm terrified of what he'll say and I'm running from him.” You speak fast, hands covering your face. “I freaking love him.”

That's it. The words just came out. You freeze, breathing fast, the weight of the acknowledgment making a few tears roll down. You lie back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

“So... Do you want me to act surprised?”

“I want him to love me too.” It comes out as a whisper because this can't be heard by anyone. Not even by Maggie. But that already happened.

“Daryl allowed you to touch him. In public. And he touched you. Again, in public.” Maggie touches your leg, shaking it a little to get your attention, only stopping when you sit up again. “If he didn't love you back, that wouldn't happen.”

“Daryl... May like me. He's very protective and I love that since... Well, since all that shit happened but... Maybe this is it.”

“I don't think so. Daryl always makes sure everyone is safe, but with you it's different.”

Sighing, you wonder if you should believe that. Maybe, if you keep your hopes low, you won't get hurt.

No. You'll get hurt anyways. “I think I should go...”

“Yeah, he'll come here looking for you.”

“Maybe...” Pushing yourself back at your feet, you take a deep breath. “I'll... Take a walk.”

“You know he'll find you, right?” She says, following you to the front door.

“I know... Thanks, Maggie.” Smiling at her, you walk away, always careful in the steps before heading to the garden on the West side of the city.

There are some people here, not much though, but you still keep a distance. By the wall, there's a small square, if you can call it that, with some benches and threes. The kids come to play here some days, but it's not their favorite place. Taking a sit, strategically by a three so it'll hide you, you cross your legs. The wind makes you shiver since the thought of bringing a coat didn't even cross your mind. But it's beautiful here, and lonely. Few people come here, and you rather be alone. At least now, to think.

“Never thought ya would run from me.” His voice makes your heart skip a bit, and you do feel a little guilty. You're not sure why though. Silently, you watch as he comes to stand before you.

“I'm not...” You're were running away. No reason to try to dissimulate. “I just needed some time. Thought you would need some too, so...”

“Had plenty of time out there.” Raising your head to look at him, you can't shake the feeling he always brings you. Safety, warmth, home...

“Yeah... But you don't have to... I mean, what I said before, you don't have to...”

“We need ta’ talk. But not here, c'mon.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, pulling yourself up. “Ya need me ta’ carry ya?”

“No, I can walk.” If he's about to end things, the best you can do it put some distance already.

You walk at the fastest pace you can, eager to just end this. To know what happens now and work from there.

The moment you get to the house, Carol leaves, telling you Luke is asleep and he won't be up for a few hours.

So you go back to the couch, sitting down and bracing yourself, preparing for the worst. Daryl sits beside you but doesn't say anything. Bouncing your leg, you curse yourself for what you did. You know Daryl isn't the one to talk about his feelings, and you don't want to push him to.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have–”

“Ya wanna be with me. Why?” He bursts out, and you look at him. Daryl has his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Because I–” Are you really gonna say it? Can you tell him that? Isn't it too soon? Or too late? “I really, really like you... More than a friend or a protector.”

“Ya shouldn't. ‘M way older than ya and yer–”

“Daryl, it's not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn't do. Or feel.” Cutting him short, you turn your body towards him, touching his arm, relieved when he finally looks up into your eyes. “I know you think very low of yourself. I'm well aware of the age thing, but I don't care. What I need to know is how you feel about me.” Making a pause, you take a deep breath. This isn't easy, but you have to talk. To somehow make it easier for him, if that's even possible. “It's alright if you don't. I-I know you don't like talking about this, but I just need to know if... If there's anything else... If you feel this way about me too...”

“I like ya, (Y/N).” He says in a very low voice, you can barely hear it. “And ya shouldn't have feelings for me.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, lemme talk.” He cuts you off, faking an angry tone. Raising an eyebrow, you nod. “Ya shouldn't. Yer... Young an’ pretty an’ I can't ruin ya. Ya deserve someone better than me.”

“I don't want anyone else, Dixon.” It breaks your heart when he talks like that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Who he really is, not this messed up an image he has of himself. “And you won't ruin me. I don't even know what you meant by that, but that's not true, Daryl, I... If you want this... If you want me, you won't ruin me. You'll make me very, very happy.”

You're happy you managed to say all that, despite the many pauses and all the stuttering. There is much more to say, but the time will come. For now, everything you need is to know how he feels.

“I think yer making a mistake, but... I've been thinkin’ and... I don't like bein’ away from ya.”

A smile starts making its way to your lips. “Does it mean that...”

“Yeah, I guess it means that.” He affirms, still not wanting to say the words.

“...Are we going to be a couple?” You have to be sure before celebrating it.

“Yeah.”

“Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ya need me ta’ drawn it to ya?” He bursts out, an annoyed expression on his face.

Giggling, you raise an eyebrow. You love this side of Daryl and you hope to see more of it. “Sassy Daryl is one of my favorite Daryls.” You say, moving to his lap, straddling his hip. A second later you realize what you did, your cheeks burning. Daryl is red too, and he's not sure what to do with his hands, but you soon feel them on your waist. “So... Oh, I don't know if you noticed but your room was claimed by a newborn child.”

“Yeah, I noticed the crib.”

“So you're now permanently stuck in my bedroom. Hope it's not a problem.” Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. You then realize you haven't kissed him yet. And, hell, you want to.

“Not at all.”

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out suddenly, too fast, and you look down, wondering if he can listen to your heart since it's beating insanely fast.

“Ya want to?” He almost stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah...” Nodding, you move closer, eyes closing, and your skin burning in anticipation.

You jump to hear the front door opening, head immediately turning to find Carol. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you and Daryl like this...

“I–”

“Carol, I need you to go away. Like right now.” You tell her, urgency in your voice. You don't want the moment to pass, and you just need to kiss him. Right now. It's like a matter of life and death. “Please.” You decide to add.

“Alright, alright.” Raising her hands, she quickly goes upstairs, and you settle down again, hoping Daryl hasn't changed his mind.

“Ok... Can I–”

You feel his lips on yours before you can finish, and you don't mind at all. Pushing yourself closer to him, you deepen the kiss, completely inebriated by him. The pace is slow at first, as if you're getting to know each other, feeling each other, but then it changes, faster, full of need. You get the sensation he doesn't believe this is happening, by the way his arms hold you as if you would disappear. You won't. This is where you want to be, right here, with him.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle

[devinescribe]

Innocence

Niragi Suguru × Reader

So, this is something I was very excited to receive a request about!

(Yall... please, the most adorable thing I've ever been requested to write-)

I absolutely loved the idea, as it's something I go through, and a few of my friends go through, although it might be a little different. (My friends as well as I  (ooh, exposing myself) have a little space(different from a sub space. It's age regression and not at all sexual or wrong. It's totally OK to do this) , and I usually take care of them and they take care of me through it, so I get the panic attacks and drops! What this person requested is probably quite different from that, so It's not the exact same thing. Also, keep in mind, everyone expiriences panic attacks differently, I'm going off of my personal experience with them.

Warnings: past trauma, panic attacks, swearing, mentions of death, blood, let me know if I missed any!

You had been put into this world. A desolate one. It looked like your home of Tokyo, but it wasn't. There weren't  any people, and it was empty. It was like a giant prison... except bigger. In your opinion, it was a prison, and no one was around to judge you, so it was. You had been quite scared waking up, not knowing what was going on. Wandering around the new Tokyo, you felt a feeling of dread. You were alone. How you hated being alone.

At night, however, things changed. One of the advertisement boards in the middle of Tokyo lit up, pointing towards a place and the words 'way to the game arena' sprawled across it. You just followed the light up sign, and ended up at a skating rink.

Your eyes lit up at the sight. There were pretty colors, flashing lights, and popular music was playing in the background. You swayed on your heels, back and forth, unsure of what to do next before seeing a table with phones. On the same table was a sign that read 'One for each player.' What did they mean by player? You didn't know. You picked up a phone, and it turned on. The screen read something about facial recognition. You stared in awe at it, thinking it was cool. You were so immersed with the phone, you didn't notice other people come in. When you did, you were a bit intimidated. You didn't know why you were here. It dawned on you in a moment, and you started to fidget with the edge of your skirt. You saw two people who looked nicer than the rest, and decided to aproach them.

"Hi! Um... I'm sorry to bother you,  but do you know what's going on? I just woke up here..." you explained, looking at them. It was a boy and a girl. The girl had short, dark hair, and was wearing black spandex with a colorful pullover that was unzipped a bit to where you could see the black sports bra under. She was so pretty in your eyes. The boy had dark hair, his bangs falling into his face. He was wearing a t-shirt, and shorts. They looked at each other, and back to you. "It's a game," the girl said. You smiled. "A game? I like games what kind of game?" You asked. "It's not... it's not normal games. They're more difficult... and dangerous," the boy explained. You were confused. "My name is (Y/N). What's your's?" You asked. "I'm Arisu and this is Usagi," he introduced. "I like your names," you said cheerfully. The phone pinged, and you jumped slightly.

'Registration closed. 8 players. Difficulty 4 of spades. Game 'Roll Away'. All players will put on the roller skates. They can't be taken off once put on. There will be different challenges in the rink. It might be dodging something, getting chased by something, or other obstacles. Clear Condition: You can not take off the roller skates through the duration of the game. Doing that will result in immediate death. The way to win is to dodge the object or things and pass the challenges. Game start in 10 minutes' (this is the dumbest game concept I've come up with, I apologize in advance)

"Here, stick with us, and we'll try to make sure you don't get hurt, alright?" Usagi said, placing her hand on your shoulder. "Ok! Thank you Usagi-Chan! Thank you Arisu-Kun!" You chirped, bowing your head in gratitude. They smiled to eachother, one thought clear and present in their heads. They had to protect you. Something they didn't say about a lot of people, but something was different about you.

That's how they took you to the beach. At first, you were scared. You didn't know anyone there, there was people staring at you, and there were some that had weapons. Your eyes had so much to focus on, and it was so overwhelming. Your first thought was to focus on something shiny. You liked shiny things. The problem was, there was to many shiny things to focus on. The windows, guns, swords, accents on the wall, hell, everything might as well been shiny. You stayed still, sitting up as straight as you could, playing with the sleeves of the sweatshirt you had on. "So she's basically useless?" One of the people there said. You frowned at the words. "No, no, she's very capable. I think she'd do well in club games. And she doesn't require a high rank right now. Just for a her to be safe," Arisu said, protecting your from their words. "Alright. Just inform her of everything. Niragi, why don't you take her to get a wristband and to her room?" The man, who you had learned to be Hatter suggested, although he knew it was a command. Usagi gripped onto your shoulder softly. "I'll go with. Just because I feel she is my responsibility as well," Usagi said. In reality, she was worried of what he'd do to you. She didn't trust Niragi, and from the short amount of time she had known you, noticed you to be more trusting and innocent than most. You smiled widely, and looked up at Usagi. "Let's go then."

You walked in the middle of both people. Usagi, looking forward most of the time, holding your hand to guide you around, and Niragi. That's what Hatter had called him anyways. He was rather tall, longish hair with half tied back. He had piercing on his nose and brow. Shiny pieces of metal which you found yourself staring at constantly. There was a gun slung over his shoulder, which scared you. "Here we are," he said, opening the door to what you assumed to be a storage room. He handed you a bracelet. You played with the stretchy cord, stretching out and back in, being entertained by it. Usagi grabbed your hand, and gently slid it on. "Don't take it off, ok?" She said softly. You nodded. "What is she? A damn kid?" Niragi scoffed. "No. Be nice. People have different situations, and you have no right to judge," Usagi repremanded him, her tone strong. He rolled his eyes. "Ok, there's three rules at the Beach. 1, you have to wear a bathing suit, 2 all card go to Hatter, 3 death to the traitors," he said. "Mmm... death? What do you mean by that?" You asked. You knew what death was, you just wanted to make sure he wasn't threatening you. "Death means death. We catch you planning to leave, or keeping your cards, you die. Simple as that," Niragi stated. "Ah... oki! Usagi-Chan, I think I'll be ok with out you for now. Thank you!" You chirped. Usagi shook her head. "I'm not leaving you alone with him," she stated, glaring at him. You felt hands grab your waist, and pull you back. It was Niragi. For whatever reason, you felt safe. He was bigger than you, and most likely stronger, and it made you feel safe. You shrunk into him, liking the feeling. "Yeah, Usagi-Chan... Let her have fun," he mocked, sticking out his tongue. Usagi could hear the hidden meaning behind his words. But, to her surprise, you didn't. Were you that innocent? "I'll be fine. Tell Arisu-Kun thank you again for me though... You guys really helped me through that game," you smiled. Usagi nodded her head, and against her better judgement, left. "Ok, just you and me now sweetheart," Niragi sighed, leading you around. You rushed to catch up with him, and grabbed his hand. He flinched, pulling his hand away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked, scrunching his face in disgust at the contact. " 'M sorry... Didn't want to get lost. I don't like being alone," you apologized, looking down, and swinging your leg back and forth. 'Damn it... She's cute... NOnononono, backtrack, hold up, not cute. She's fucking annoying. There we go. That sounds better. Not at all cute. Annoying.' He sighed, remembering the way Usagi had spoken to you, "It's fine. Just don't go doing that, ok?"  You nodded excitedly, walking besides him.

"Ok, and this room is the one Hatter told me to take you to. The two people you were with live on the next floor up. No I don't know what room, neither do I care. They'll tell you, most likely. Bye," he said after leading you to your room door. "Niragi... thank you!" You said, smiling. "What?" He questioned, turning around to face you. "Thank you. Really, I would have gotten lost without you. I hope to see you soon!" You repeated, skipping into your room. He stared at the spot you just stood in, in shock. 'She's odd. But interesting. Is her innocence an act? Or is she just like that?' He thought as he walked off. You hadn't made any sort of shy or disgusted expressions when he talked to you. Especially when he used more risqué remarks. You just smiled or laughed as if you didn't understand the meaning behind his words. You were definitely interesting to say the least.

"We're really sorry we couldn't find another one for you... It's just the rules here, ok?" Arisu apologized. They had to find a swimsuit for you to wear, and they had found a white one. It wasn't horrible, just showed a lot. "You're allowed to wear a cover up though. Or like a sweater," Usage suggested. You nodded, rushing to the bathroom where you had changed. You grabbed the fluffy zip up hoodie you had on before you changed. You slipped it on over your body, and smiled. "Much better," you chirped. They laughed slightly. Arisu couldn't help but feel warm and fuzzy when you were around. Not in a romantic way, but more in a protective way. He didn't want anyone to harm you. Usagi felt the same. "Can I go walk around?" You asked, playing with your hair. They nodded. " You don't have to ask for permission. You can do what you want," Usagi said. You nodded, saying goodbye, and leaving the room.

You hummed as you walked around, looking at all the people walking around. You nodded your head to whatever rythym was going on in your head. There were so many things to focus on, it felt like your head was going to explode. You shut your eyes for a bit and kept walking. Bad idea.

"Oi, you damn brat! Watch where you're going!" Someone shouted at you. You had bumped into them, falling to the ground. " 'M sorry! Didn't mean to!" You squeaked out. You heard them laugh, and you opened your eyes. "Whatever. And stop talking like that. What are you? A ba-" they were cut off by a snicker. "Really? You have the right to say that?" You recognized the voice from earlier. It was Niragi. You looked up to see Niragi pointing his gun at the people bothering you. "What? She talks like a fucking baby. And acts like one. Is she your little play thing?" The person taunted. Niragi scowled. "I'm only letting you go right now because Aguni doesn't let us kill in front of others. Be glad I'm letting you off right now," Niragi threatened. They all rushed away, seeing as their bravery was only for show. Niragi looked down to you on the floor. "You good?" He asked. You nodded, getting yourself off the floor. "Thank you once again, Niragi," you said, your attention on the floor. He couldn't help but notice your nature. You were innocent, childish, and playful. So different from all the other girls here. It was annoying, but also... cute. He was so lost in thought, he almost didn't feel you standing next to him and grabbing his arm. "What are you doing? We talked about this," he stated, trying to pull his arm away, watching as you nuzzled into him. "You're warm... and I like this feeling... I don't know what it is, but it's nice," you muttered. He pulled you around, back to his room, ignoring the stares he was getting.

He opened the door, and walked in, shutting it behind you two. "Where are we?" You asked, looking up at him. "Guess," were his only words. You basically beamed up at him. "Ooh, like a game! Umm... I don't know... tell me?" You chirped, placing a finger on your lip. He sighed, basically throwing himself on his bed. "You're annoying, you know that right?" He said. You frowned, twiddling your fingers. "Don't get offended by that. I have questions I want answered, come here," he stated, the commanding tone in his voice obvious. You stood straighter, and walked over by him. He looked up st you, confused. "Sit,'' was the only word that left his lips. You did so, sitting up straight. "So... is this an act? Your whole innocence thing?" He questioned, motioning to you. You tilted your head in confusion. "No? It's just... me," you responded. He hummed to acknowledge he heard you. Your hands kept looking for something to do, and you impulsively put one of your hands on his head. He moved away, grabbing your wrists, putting them to your body. "Hands to yourself princess," he said, a bored tone present. You shook your head, your hair swaying and bouncing with you. He laughed at the sight as you pouted. "Don't wanna. I like the feeling I get when I touch you or when you touch me," you said, your fingers being able to lightly touch his hand. "What feeling?" He asked. "I don't know what it's called... I just like it," you responded. "Well explain it," he said. "Mm... I feel really warm and protected. And... safe..." you responded, feeling his hands leave your wrists. After feeling his hands leave your wrist, you looked up at him. You crawled next to him squirming from happiness. "Oi, stop it," he scolded, grabbing your shoulders to keep you still. You pouted, looking up at him. "Then can I pet you?" You asked. "What am I? A damn dog?" He spat. "I like dogs. Dogs are cute. You're cute. But you're not a dog. Good boys deserve pets. You're a good boy, so... you deserve pets," you rambled, patting the top of his head softly. He look at you as you did so. He dropped back onto his bed. "I'm tired, so I'm going to sleep before tonight's patrol. Don't kill me," he yawned, closing his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

When he woke up, he heard humming. He opened his eyes slowly, and saw you curled up on the end of his bed, humming. "Hello?" He questioned. You turned so fast, he swears you gave yourself whiplash. "Niragi you're up!" You chirped. He sighed. 'Who gave her the right to be so damn cute... this isn't fair on me right now.' He nodded, and got up. He looked into the mirror on the dresser, noticing his hair was tied back. He went to take it out, but soon saw it was braided. "Did you... braid my hair?" He questioned. Now, he wasn't mad, and he didn't hate it. He just wanted to know why. "Yeah. Sorry," you said, looking down. "I- forget it. Why?" He asked. Your eyes lost their spark for a second. "um... uh... I... I just wanted to," you said shakily. "Tell me why. I can see through that lie," he stated, taking his hair out of the braid. "Umm... I... I don't think you'd care, it's nothing," you deflected. "Look, if I'm asking, it means I want to know. So say it," he said, turning to face you. "Ok... I was just alone in my thoughts, and I decided to braid your hair. It made me feel less... anxious. My sister used to always ask for me to braid her hair. So she could look just like our mom... and she did look just like out mom," you explained, tears filling your eyes.

You didn't like talking about your sister because of what had happened to her. Your mother had died when you were 9, your sister was just a baby. She looked exactly like your mom. And due to circumstances, you were never able to be a kid. You had to be an adult at a young age. You never got to be childish. So, you did it more when you grew up. Your sister... Your sister didn't really care all that much. She acted like a kid, and got to be a kid. You made sure of it. Some things just couldn't be helped though. She had died after a car accident. You all went to get some groceries. It had been a great night, and you three had gotten ice cream. On the way back, a drunk driver had hit the car. Your father lived and yourself lived, but he blamed himself for it. He tried, he really really tried to be a good father to you, but it wasn't enough. Somehow, you could never seem to win.

"I'm sorry, I don't really like talking about her, can I talk about something else?" you said, quickly wiping the tears away. He could tell you didn't want to talk about. It made him want know more, but for whatever reason, he left it. "My patrol starts I'm a few minutes. So you'll have to find someone else to bother," he said, fixing his hair again. "But I don't wanna go around anyone else. Wanna be around you," you pouted, walking to his side. He stared down in shock. No one has ever wanted to around him out of their own free will. "Look, just... go to your room, and if I remember to go, I'll go and visit for a bit."

That's how it started. You would constantly be around him, rambling about your newest topic. He didn't respond a lot, just listened, throwing the occasional sigh of you being annoying. It didn't bother you anymore, because something told you if he actually found you annoying, you wouldn't be alive right now.

"Hey hey hey (N/N)!" Kuina greeted with a smile. "Kuina! You're back!" You giggled, running over. She hugged you, spinning you around. "How's my favorite human?" She asked, setting you down. "I'm ok... How was your game?" You asked, walking around with her. She led you down to where all the cars came in. "Hatter put me in charge of checking to make sure no one keeps their cards today. Help me out?" She asked as soon as you got there. You nodded, and stood by her.

All was fine, till one of the last groups came in, speeding. You watched nervously, hoping nothing bad happened. You felt the world around you move in slowmotion, and the air in your lungs get shorter everytime you breathed. You heard the tires screech, and Kuina's voice was somewhere in the background. You felt like you couldn't breath, you felt the cold stone wall behind you and you slid down it. Tears rolled down your face, and you scratched at your arms unknowingly. You felt people trying to touch you, and you kicked or hit them away.

"Someone get help! Arisu, Usagi!" Kuina yelled at them. They had come outside, hearing a commotion. They tried to touch you, or get closer, but you wouldn't let them. Blood came out of the scratches you had made on yourself. "Who else can help her?! Think quick, please!" Arisu panicked. You were crying and scratching at yourself. They could hear you muttering 'no' and 'can't lose them again' over and over under your breath. Anytime someone tried to get close to you, you would kick or hit them. "Get Niragi," Usagi said. "What no I'm not going to-" Kuina started to argue. "Do you have any other ideas?! Go get Niragi before she hurts herself more! Now!" Usagi shouted. The panicky feeling was in everyone. Kuina quickly looked over at you, and nodded. This wasn't about who she did and didn't like. It was about making sure you were ok. Kuina ran off, going to look for Niragi. "Usagi, you go look for him as well. You're faster than me, I'll kept on eye on her," Arisu said. Usagi nodded, running off.

You were still crying, your nails tearing into your skin, crescent marks left behind, and trails of crimson dripping down. People were still trying to help, but we're crowded all around you. You couldn't breath, air couldn't get into your lungs. The people all around you looked like they were closing in around you. A flashback of the moment the other car hit you flooded your brain. Your sister's cut off scream. Her blood soaked shirt, the pieces of glass embedded into her skin. The pain you felt when you called out for her, but she didn't answer.

"Chishiya! Chishiya! Have you seen Niragi?" Kuina yelled after the short boy. He turned around. "Why would I care ab-" Chishiya started. "Chishiya, not now. It's (Y/N). Please, just- do you know or not?" Kuina interrupted, taking in shaky breaths. He shook his head. "Last Boss might know he's over there. If not Aguni," Chishiya said. Kuina nodded, running over to the aforementioned man.

Eventually, she found him on the roof. 'He's always on the damn roof' Kuina thought. "Niragi! Don't ask questions, just come with me!" Kuina yelled at him. He turned with a face that read 'no'. "Why should I-" he started. "It's (Y/N), please just- she- come with me," Kuina stumbled over her words. It had been at least 6 minutes. He tried not to show any emotion, but looked around and nodded. He walked quickly besides her as they made their way back.

"Found him!" Kuina shouted. Arisu turned to them and nodded. "Just go over to her," Arisu said. Niragi walked over, and everyone around you, immediately parted. "Go away," he threatened. Everyone left, and he was able to see what was happening. Your previously white swimsuit was now stained with red. Your arms were marked up with scratches and crescent shaped wounds. "Hey, (Y/N), it's me... calm down... breath," he whispered, so only you could hear. He kneeled in front of you, and got gradually closer. You didn't push him away, nor did you pit up a fight against him. The feeling of being safe and protected that you only got around Niragi appeared. The warm feeling spread over you, making you calm down a bit. You were able to breath a bit now, and you whimpered about something he didn't quite hear. Arisu and Kuina sighed in relief, seeing as he was able to get close to you. He grabbed your hands, taking them away from your arms. You took a shaky breath. "N-niragi?" You questioned. "Mhm... just calm down for now," he said. Arisu and Kuina looked at eachother and nodded, deciding to leave. Niragi had it under control.

You grabbed onto Niragi, and held onto him tightly. He heard you sniffle and say an apology into his neck. "Don't apologize for that. Are you ok-ish now?" He asked. He felt you nod. "Ok, well, we need to clean you up. And you can tell me what happened later, ok?"

He had carried you up to his room, cleaning up the blood on your body. "Sorry... I'm sorry," you apologized again, as he bandaged up your arms. "Stop apologizing, it's pissing me off," he stated. You frowned with a shaky sigh. "I... I didn't mean that. I'm sorry," he apologized, sitting besides you. You snuggled up into him. He was going to scold you, but decided against it, seeing as he rather liked the feeling. He always had. "Niragi... you forgot to do something," you muttered. "And what's that princess?" He asked. "Kiss it better?" You asked, looking at him with the puppy dog eyes. He felt his face get hot, and cursed himself. He rolled his eyes giving in, "Fine." You gave him your arm, and he kissed over the bandages. You giggled slightly. "Tickles," you laughed. He couldn't help but laugh. You smiled, "Niragi... Can I help you feel better?" You asked. "What? I'm not hurt though," he said, confused by your words. "Ok, fine... maybe it's not to make you feel better... just wanna give you a kiss. I really really really like you," you admitted, blushing slightly. He froze up for a second, before smirking. "Go ahead then. I really really really really like you too."

So... how was that? Um...bi may have gone overboard, but I am all for soft Niragi hours even if he's OOC, it's called 'I'm sad, he's my comfort character.' Umm... yeah... cool!

[taecalikook]

(Not) Just Friends

summary : Befriending the fuckboy with devilishly handsome face and emotional capacity of a pea is not exactly your choice, especially when you met him when you were in fifth grade, attracted for the unhealthy vermillion shaded face of the nerd he was that fateful day. So is Jungkook, as he is already putting strictly platonic label on your forehead and calls it a day. But it is only a matter of time before everything changes, and it only takes a frat party, lots of booze and... a certain Kim Seokjin.

{friends to lovers! au, fuckboy! au, fratboy! au}

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (side kim seokjin)

genre : major fluff, a sprinkle of angst and borderline crack

word count : 24.612 (one-shot)

==============

“Hi, pumpkin! Is that for me?”

You were just sipping on your morning espresso, sitting in your favorite coffee shop while reading your favorite book of all time when the familiar annoying voice of your childhood best friend rang in your ear. You look up, finding the hateful smirk on his lips that you desperately want to strangle off of him, more for interrupting your sacred solitude morning routine—well not really solitude since you did promise him breakfast before class today. But as per usual, he just had to steal the glass you had in your grasps, sipping on the tasteful liquid while scrunching his eyebrows on your choice of reads.

“Isn’t it too early for The Great Gatsby in such a wonderful morning?”

“Isn’t it getting too old for you to keep drinking my coffee?” You bite back in the same bratty manner he displays. Jungkook chuckles, resting the cup back with a slight grimace. Probably because the coffee is tad too bitter for a sweet-crazed tooth like him. “You don’t even like espresso. I don’t even know why you always want a taste of my coffee.”

“Nah, I just want to mess with you fam.” He smirks, the bitterness still leaving a mark on his taste buds. Serve him right, you roll your eyes and try to center your attention back to your book. This idiot really knows no boundaries when it comes to you, you swear to God.

You and Jungkook have been best friends since both of you were kids. As cliché as it sounds, you met Jungkook when he was a total nerd in fifth grade of elementary school. He perfectly embraces the nerd stereotype at that time, thick ass glasses, braces, carrying books and his neon green nintendo nearly everywhere. You were not really interested in befriending the nerd, but when he got shamed by the cool girls for giving them chocolates for Valentine's Day—an expensive chocolate, for anyone keeping notes—you quickly stepped in when it seemed like it went overboard. 

Jungkook was bullied in the middle of the school yard with everyone to witness, for giving the girl he likes a chocolate on fucking Valentine’s Day. You noticed how ashamed he was—lips quivering, heads hanging low and the most distinctive feature is his cheek and ears, literally turning to the shade of vermillion. You did not know whether it is healthy for a face to be that red—you were terrified he might pass out—but yet those girls were still keen on mocking his sincere acts and his shy expression, not showing a sign to stop anytime soon.

Your consciousness literally forced you to step in, jumping on between them and literally yell at those girls. You forcefully stole the chocolate from one of the girls' grasp, eating them on the spot and shouted in irritation, “Done! I ate everything, so stop bullying him. You girls should be ashamed of yourself, he did nothing wrong!”

The imbecile girls were embarrassed, because their show was immediately stopped by an unpopular girl they never saw before in front of the whole school to see. One girl who seemed to be like the leader of the lunatic gang suddenly moved forward and pushed you until you fell on your back, and you know that was it. You seriously had been waiting to use your taekwondo skills for a better cause, and at that time, you saw the chance and took it whole-heartedly. You were not even using your full strength on her—you mostly used your defense technique when she was giving multiple amateur punches. You really lost everything when she grabbed your hair and pulled it hard (like most amateur girls would fight). The pain on your scalp hurt from the vicious pull, so you mildly used the front kick technique on her to push her away yet she easily fell down like a limp noodle, scraping her body with a small amount of the blood trickling out.

After the fight ensued and was broken off by one of the teachers, you and the crying girl were taken to the headmaster’s office. You were going to be punished severely, but fortunately some witnesses came to your rescue, you and the girl received punishment of detention for one month straight. Somehow, the spoiled annoying girl got out of the punishment with her parents persuasion, yet not really the same for your strict parents. They were furious for you to be punished for a physical fight in school that they directly cut you from your twice-a-week taekwondo classes you loved so much—thinking that it must be a bad influence for you. Not only that, you were also grounded and was forbidden to go out of the house for a month. You were devastated, but you know there was no way to change their minds, so you just sucked it up and promised to do your punishment well.

Day one of your punishment, you were sitting inside the detention class, the teacher was zooming off on the table with a documentary of Helen Keller played on the television. You were doodling on the back of your book in boredom. Suddenly, amongst the silence, a hush was heard in front of you, whispering your name. You shifted your head, finding the same boy directly on the table in front of you.You must absolutely did not expect it to be him—the nerd you saved from raging selfishness of the slow-minded girls.

“Hi... I got into detention to accompany you...” 

You inspected the boys with scrunched eyebrows in confusion. He somehow was still with the vermillion shade of red coloring his supple cheeks, just like last week when you were defending him. Is he... sick? He better be not, cause if he were, you were going to regret not setting the girl straight a little bit harder. The adamant despise towards injustice firing inside you was ignited by the lesson you always received from your taekwondo class, how you always must use your strength for goodness. Yes, you indeed will be missing going to Taekwondo classes. 

Realizing your mind had been anywhere but here, you straightened in your seat and tilted your head in confusion at the guy. “Are you okay? You look so… red.”

The boy quickly hid his cheeks with his palm, eyes not meeting yours out of shyness. It looked like he wanted the world to swallow him firsthand. “I—I’m sorry! I just have this weird physical habit of turning super red whenever I'm shy or angry..” He whispered, nibbling on his lips while still avoiding your eyes. “I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable..”

“Nope.” You answered with a loud pop on the last ‘p’, sending the boy a warm smile. “It doesn’t bother me in any way. You should not be ashamed of that. That’s cute.”

Well if you thought his face was already red, you could not imagine how more red it could turn into after you called him cute. Out of panic, you swiftly handed him the cold drinks sitting on your desk. “H—hey! You are too red, it is not possible. Put this on your face!”

After a few seconds he spent pushing the cold bottle to his face, you could finally see him breath again. You were unable to hold a smile looking at the boy, huffing his breath repeatedly to calm himself. You did sincerely find him cute, so different from the boys from your school who somehow really got on your nerves from constantly bragging about nearly everything. Their expensive belongings, their parent’s house, their ability to play sports, and it sickened you. Well you didn't really know the boy in front of you, but it seemed like he wasn’t the type to. You were prepared to drop him the second a cocky symptoms were found though, even if internally you wish he wouldn’t. You spared so much of your effort to take on the guy’s side, such a waste to do that on another thick-headed prick.

“I just realize I don’t know your name.” You suddenly thought to yourself after multiple times addressing him as ‘the nerd’ or ‘this boy’. He was just giving your drinks back to your desk, and then he shyly put out his hands to you.

“Hi.. My name is Jungkook. I am ten years old, and I came from Busan. I have one brother and one dog. My hobby is playing games and taking a bath! Nice to meet you!”

You really were going to burst into laughter, but then you detect the teacher was already woken up and shooting looks at the both of you for causing such a loud commotion. You bit your lips, holding any sound from coming out fervently, your eyes trained on your desk so you would be able to hold them back. Inside, you were glad that you saved this boy the other day. This boy was too pure and kind for his own good, and you were happy that you stood for him.

Well, that was all too long in the past, you nearly had a hard time remembering it. Now Jungkook has changed, 180 degrees from that cute, shy, vermillion shade faced boy you met in elementary school. After an agonizing ten years has passed, he went from a total innocent sweetheart, such a cutie to the annoying ass of a fuckboy jock he is today. What a shame to witness the degradation, you thought to yourself. But you did know when and where it went wrong—he was just too tired of being taken too much of an advantage by despicable people around him. The friend he befriended, his chemistry lab partner in middle school, his classmates and especially the girl he dated in high school. He hated it—he hated everything that happened to him when he was trying to be the nice guy for everyone. 

So in the last year of high school—after the bad breakup with the said girlfriend—he changed everything, nearly everything until it's even hard for you to recognize him sometimes. He swore off dating and romances, he went twelve hours per week to the gym and the school’s football team, attended parties days and nights before fucking random girls, and did the bare minimum in his education due to the shift of focus. But still even by then (actually, even until today), one and only person he would always listen to was you. 

When he failed one of his subjects in the last term of high school—and seemed completely unbothered by it, you were furious at him and refused to communicate in any way to him until he got his priorities straight. He tried contacting you, but you rejected at the first beep. He waited for you in front of your class but you quickly shove him with hurtful words his way, “You stop being yourself, Jungkook. I don’t even know you anymore.” and you meant every word. You missed your best friend, you missed his innocence and availability for you, and frankly, you also had enough of hearing about how charming he was, or how good he was in bed, talked in hush by your obnoxious girls in your classes. 

Few days later, you were already resting in your house while reading a book and listening to the droplets of the heavy rain knocking down on your roof, until a hesitant knock was heard on the door. You shuffled to open the door to find, was expecting your brother coming home from college, but instead found Jungkook, drenched in front of your porch with the remedial sheet on his hand—written that he passed the said subject with flying colors. You were surprised that he even got the chance to fix his grade, but after telling you he needed to do a fifty page review of the economic systems around the world to even got the chance to remedial test, you did realize how much he put an effort to pass a subject he didn’t even like. Somehow, it resulted in more happiness on you than you thought it would be. You couldn’t deny you were already contemplating whether you were too harsh or nosy on him, or he would just drop you the second you push him away. You were on the edge, imagining that you would lose a best friend because of your annoying attitude and peskiness. But he came through.

After welcoming Jungkook to take a bath and wear your brother’s clothes, you offered him a glass of hot chocolate, his favorite drink. But you noticed that he was still pouting, so you questioned it. “I am thankful that you knocked some sense into me, but Y/N, don’t ever ignore me like that again…” Jungkook’s pout turned deeper, his knuckles pushing your forehead in annoyance. 

“You are the last person who I ever wanted to turn against me.” He whispered after seconds of silence of just staring at each other, eyes turning gleam that knocked some guilt inside your chest. You nodded silently, promising that you would not do that kind of antics again.

You remember that day like the back of your hand—after a long time, you see how vermillion-shaded his face has returned after telling you how thankful he was for your presence as his best friend during the past ten years, and your straight-up attitude that set him straight during his weak times. He cried that day, telling you how hard everything was for him. Behind those strong facade and muscle, you realized he was still the innocent, vulnerable nerd with a vermillion-shaded face you met ten years ago. You missed those innocence he finally displayed, and it brought you back to times when it was just you and him against the world. 

Even after that day Jungkook still continues all his fuckboy ways, and until now after both of you went to the same university. He is taking an industrial engineering major while you were doing your life-long dream of taking political science, both of your faculties are located near each other. Jungkook was still being the same Jungkook he was, he joined the football team and brother frat in college, filled with dumb rich jocks who held parties nearly twice a week. After getting few drinks in the party, he would fall into meaningless sex with the girl he just knew before. Not that you mind, you have been way too accustomed in having such a best friend and it doesn’t even bother you anymore.

But still, you were confused how Jungkook is able to maintain his life together—his studies, his jock practices and his fuckboy activities in parallel. You have no objection at all for his life choices—since he never leaves you out and schedules a breakfast or lunch minimal twice per week with you to update you on what he was doing with his life and likewise. Not even counting the times he would get you from your apartment if you have the same morning class like today. By what you hear from him, it really seems like he is holding up just well. Good for him.

“Hey, stop ignoring me, you ugly ass hoe!”

You wake up from your long flashbacks, since you notice that you have been zooming out for quite a while now. You clear your throat, sipping on the coffee that has turned cold, sending apologies for not paying attention to him. “Sorry. I was distracted. You were saying?”

Jungkook frowns, his eyes squinted on you, and you know what he was doing. He was trying to diagnose your silence. You roll your eyes at his nosy acts. “Stop looking at me like that! I said I was sorry, Jungkook. Now tell me what’s bothering you. This girl you fucked with before, did she still try to contact you again?”

“I wasn’t telling you about that!” Jungkook raises his voice, his face slightly reddening out of shyness for you mentioning his bad experience on one of his one night stands. Looking at him, you are reminded about the vermillion-faced Jungkook you met in elementary school. Oh how you miss those reddening supple cheeks of his. “I was telling you if you are going to Hoseok’s birthday party this weekend. It’s gonna be lit, I swear! He is holding it in his fancy ass house with a pool and whatever.” You snort, your eyes trailing back on your books even if you are not reading at all. You just want to ignore him, implicitly telling how silly his invitation was. Parties are never your forte, you feel mildly uncomfortable in such a short distance with tons of strangers. You’d rather reread this book you are holding for the nth time already, you swear.

“Y/N, you could even meet boys there, I know how saintly you have been living lately. Live a little, pumpkin! I swear you’ll enjoy it there.” Still you don’t budge on him.

“Kim Seokjin is gonna be there, though. You sure you won’t come?”

Listening to his name, your ears perk up, eyes slightly glancing up to him. Seokjin is one of Jungkook’s frat brothers, a final year who surely does not share the same ugly traits of the other brother. He is smart, ambitious in his study, and is also the head of the Taekwondo university club. Your deep interest in Taekwondo has driven you to see him in multiple universities and external competitions, and you cannot bear yourself but to swoon over him and his rightful acts. Even if you surely do not have the courage to directly introduce yourself to him, you have been thinking a lot about joining the club with pure—well not really pure motivation. You are also unable to emphasize more that he is really one of the kindest souls out there. He is known as very helpful to everyone, joining as a volunteer in various social and environmental movements. You also heard that he had a serious relationship for five years, in which they had to break up a year ago because the girl had to move to America to pursue her study and decide to break up with him. What a doofus.

You notice the cocky, winning triumph on Jungkook’s face realizing how affected you are by the name, but you’ll set aside your will to erase the annoying smirk off of his face just to get more information out of him. “Continue.”

“He is best friends with Hoseok. I know he is not really a party type—you probably know that better than I do—but this one's for his friend's birthday party. He’ll come.” Jungkook says, munching on the served american breakfast in front of him. “You can finally meet him, probably say hi and then bone him while you’re at it. You get me?” Jungkook wickedly smiles, eyebrows dancing on his temple and you roll your eyes in response. You have such an obnoxious dickhead as a friend, and whose fault is it? Yours, of course.

“I hate you so much, Jungkook. Do you know that?” You gave him a cynical smile, and he returned it with the same bland taste, biting on the last piece of bacon. 

“Can.. Can I bring Lia too?” You hesitantly asked, biting on your lips. Jungkook’s chewing movement is slowing, an uncomfortable silence ensues.

Lia is your apartment roommate, a cute girl with the same major as yours. Short height, big round eyes and straight hair are her noticeable features, and what troubles Jungkook for Lia’s presence in your discussions, is her uncanny resemblance to his high school ex girlfriend. Her similar name, her looks, her height, her choice of outfit and nearly everything, reminded him of the girl he has been trying to forget. You were surprised while meeting her too at first, but you did not realize how the resemblance would bother Jungkook that much. Well probably, Jungkook was still trying to forget about her—hell, this whole new persona of his was founded by his heartbreak towards the bitter-ended relationship.

You remember how head over heels was Jungkook towards his ex-girlfriend. Whenever he is around her, or just thinking about her when she was brought up in your discussions, Jungkook would again turn vermillion in shyness for his adoration of the girl. He would waste hours, with all his power and wealth to make the girl happy—without telling you at that time about how much he spent for her, since he knew how fervently you would react to that—and content with the relationship they both shared. But none could prepare him for the inevitable break up, Jungkook found the girl was cheating on him with another older guy, in which he found out who was her source of income too. Jungkook was devastated, heartbroken and that's the turning point when he swore off romances and relationships at all cost. You tried your best in helping him mend the broken pieces caused by the vicious witch of an ex-girlfriend, but you know none of it was the same ever again. What you could and promise to do is to be there for your best friend, at all times.

“It’s—it’s okay. I think I am just overreacting over all of this. I swear.” He sighs, sounding a little bit tired of everything and putting the utensils on his plate. You lean closer, waiting for the continuation of his spoken mind. “I am so fucked up, Y/N. Like, there are so many things that keep reminding me of her. You know how evil she is, and everything she did to me—but I still find myself missing her so much it’s crazy. It’s been nearly two years, but I still think about her—a lot. The girl I was with last night. The girl I met at a party two weeks ago. Your roommate—gosh, i’m so tired.” He sadly groans, hiding his face behind his palm. Oh, how you wish to take away some of the pain he feels.

“I think.. I think you just need to stop pushing it away, Jungkook..” You softly speak, your palm caressing his shoulder to his arm in sympathy. Jungkook let out another sigh, resting his palm over yours, eyes filled with frustration over himself.  “I think the more you are trying to stop thinking about her, the less you are able to overcome it. Just let it go. Confront it. Confront everything that reminds you of her, and tell yourself that you are slowly but surely overcoming the hunch.”

Jungkook silently nods for a while zooming out to the street, until at one point he slowly squints his eyes on you, full of suspicion. You choose to look away, trying to be nonchalant of his suspecting gaze.

“You just want me to allow your friend to go to the party so you will have a companion to meet Seokjin, right?”

Well, you should know you are going to be caught red-handed, but it should not this fast, though. Are you that obvious or it’s just another episode of Jungkook knowing you better than you do? “You know how much I need to meet him, Jungkook! You are my friend, you should help me with this. I need her as my support.” You defend yourself, arms folded in front of your chest in agitation. You are desperately in need of  Lia there, so at least when you embarrass yourself in front of a cheering crowd—or worst, Seokjin himself—you will have support that helps you get into that taxi and drive yourself to the nearest cliff. You won’t even expect Jungkook to be  there for you, he must be off somewhere fucking bimbos and that’s just how less you expect of him.

“Hey, I can be your wingman to score him too! Are you kidding me? I am his kind, I know how to get you to him better than that friend of yours.” Jungkook scrunch his nose in distaste of your doubts about him. You scoff loudly, pushing your cold coffee away so you or Jungkook’s slob trait will not nudge or drop it to pieces mid argument. That surely happened before, and you do not want another dirty look thrown by the waitress at the both of you for causing troubles, yet again.

“Stop kidding me. First, you are not his kind. He is not a fuckboy. And what would happen if I go there with you are first, you missing at twenty minutes mark and off fucking some girl on the upstair bedroom or even worse, in the restroom and I’ll just be foolishly standing in the corner like fucking nerd who miss her literature club meeting with expectation to meet a cute, faithful guy in some dumb frat parties, fell in love and get married to happily ever after. Or second, you ignore the girls thirsting over you to accompany me and just an hour, you off to get a drink and those dumb girls will kidnap me and feed me to the lion. I don’t see any positive scenario over you, accompanying me to the party. No thanks.”

Jungkook is surely bewildered over the scenario you just play out to him. You take a deep breath, realize you have been spitting out so many words in such a short span of time. You are quite proud of that talent, though.

“That’s… strangely detailed.”

You roll your eyes, looking at the watch on your wrist. Only ten minutes left and both of you need to run to the first class.  “We need to get going now. Let’s go, you dumb jock.”

Jungkook sighs, following your step, resting a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn paying now. Let’s go.”

*

“Are you sure you want to wear that?”

Listening to Lia’s queries for the nth time, you sigh and go inside the bathroom to change into your comfy house clothes. You have been trying to find the perfect dress that is the perfect balance of classy and slutty since three hours ago—exactly right after you ran home from your afternoon class. But yet it seems like no dress is right, one makes you look too slutty, or another which makes you like a freaking nun amongst the girl in the party, or another one which make your butt looks massive or one that is too tight you know you can’t even breathe if you wear that to the party. And who are you even kidding? You are putting too much effort for a party that most likely will not even realize you are there. You know that you are not that excessively pretty like some girls that hangout with Seokjin and Jungkook’s frat—yes, you are not far on the other side either, but it’s still a valid point.

“I’m done. I’m just wearing anything to the party and if Seokjin can’t see me, he can kiss my ass. Probably gonna die alone anyway, why do I even try...” Your groan was muffled to the pile of clothes on your bed. Lia hisses at your sudden discouragement, she wakes up and launches a slap on your butt.

“Nuh-uh! You know how important this is to you, Y/N. You gotta try, or you’ll regret it forever!” Lia shakes you again, but you are still groaning against the clothes. Seeing how long this may drag and you still haven’t even done your hair, she has no choice but to drag you from bed until you are thrown on the floor with a loud bump.

“Ah! It hurts!”

“I know it hurts but you’ll be thanking me in the next five years when you are married to Seokjin and pregnant with his third kid.” 

“Now that’s just forward. And delusional. Seokjin is married to me? Seriously, like he even wants to deal with such a mess.” You pout while rubbing on your hurting elbow due to the unexpected fall. Even with such a small frame Lia cages animalistic power it’s unbelievable. “And I don’t even want to get married that fast! I still need to open my restaurant, I haven’t even met Liam Neeson, travel the world—”

“Wait-wait, hold on. Why Liam Neeson?”

“Because he is hot. Like real hot. Have you seen Narnia? That is one god-carved voice, damn! How I wish I could have a man with a voice like Liam. In Taken! He is so hot and protective and do you know that in Star Wars—”

Lia quickly shuts you by throwing a glittery dress to your face, disgust coloring her face. “That’s just borderline daddy kink and I hope you are well aware you are fucking weird.”

You grimace. “No argument here.”

*

9pm, and both you and Lia finally arrive at the large mansion which you recognize must be Hoseok’s. You check the text Jungkook sent this morning about the location’s address once again, quickly scrambling out of the car after muttering thanks to the driver to enter the huge, fancy house. Lia holds you by the waist, giving it a short squeeze of support seeing how jittery you have become since the taxi arrived. “It’s okay. You look beautiful, and Seokjin will be crazy not to see you.”

“Thanks.” You huff a breath, trying to muster a little bit confidence in your steps. It is half-working, you have to admit. 

It’s still early, yet the party is crazy enough you can’t even believe it. Every corner is busy with their own games and activities, the bass blaring in your ear until you’re this close to temporary deafness, and the outside of the house is a large outdoor pool with people laughing and girls with hot bod and bikinis. Just the perfect recipe of the best night everyone will regret—or maybe it’s just you.

You already had your fair share of parties, and you have to admit that it’s not your thing. The free booze, though? Tempting. You are trying to look at the better side of the whole ordeal. Even if you fall short and embarrass yourself in front of your crush, you get the eternal consolation of booze to help you kick the shame away. Nothing screams adult like pushing your problem away with the help of alcohol, right?

You check yourself against the reflection on the nearest mirror to you, restlessness creeping inside your head. Damn, you seriously are just a sack of old potatoes compared to these girls in clad dress and high stilettos which will surely be able to stab and kill someone. You should just pack it up and go home, really.

“Hey! I know that face, Y/N. No! We are not backing down. I did not just spend five hours of your whiny ass complaining what to wear for you to be this defeated without even trying!” Lia quickly pushes you away when you are about to run out the door for your life. You frown, ready to let out some whiny complaints when she pushes your unknowing ass away, right into someone’s arm.

From the countless people inside the freaking party you just had to fall to Seokjin’s arm. God must be joking. 

Looking straight into his beautiful, sparkling eyes, it seems like your mind is completely wiped like new, and you have the trouble of speaking your mind. His warm arms are around your shoulder, keeping you stable on your feet and this might be the nearest you have been to the taste of death.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I think you fell and I just caught you...” Seokjin smiles politely, eyes crinkled into a smile and you are still in the midst of inner conflict of speaking out anything. Out of realization how annoying your act must have been to him, you jumped feets away, desperate to keep a distance. You are really this close to running away, but do not want to be perceived like a total moron especially to him, so you let out a thin, nervous smile. 

“T—thank you for catching me.” You breathily murmur, feeling shy. How can someone not be? God, is he beautiful. His fluffy hair is styled nicely, he is wearing such a simple attire, a blue loose shirt and black denim but damn did he wear it like nobody’s business.

“No problem.” He lightly shakes his head, but a sudden realization comes to his mind as he inches closer to you, eyebrows scrunched together in question. You unconsciously lean further away from him, heart drumming fast in your chest. “I think I’ve seen you before. In my Taekwondo’s match. Right?!”

Never in a million years have you thought that Seokjin might notice—and even remember your face amongst the large crowd, watching him in his battles for your college’s team. You are always hidden, and as plain as ever whenever you watch him from the bleachers, and would run away the second whistle blows signaling the end of the competition. But now he told you he recognizes you?! Gosh, what are the odds. You have never felt so shameful and concious of your own skin before.

“Um… Yes! But you have nothing to worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, I just really like taekwondo and I like watching you—I mean the team!” You shyly correct yourself, internally punishing yourself for the accidental slip. You are such a humiliation and frankly, still too sober for this. What will you trade to forget the encounter never happened and drown yourself in booze in every form—drinks, beer, jelly shots, whatever.

“No! Of course not.” He chuckles, amused like he is really content to see you, nonchalant to how uncomfortable you are with your skin right now. You feel like a doofus, making a fool of yourself. “I really want to talk to you every time a match is finished, but you always bolt away after, I don’t have the chance to.” Then he dare to fucking winks. “But I’m glad we can finally meet here.” 

You are too confused with every act and word coming out of his mouth—did he just flirt with you?—so your reply is simple, and desperate. “Wow. Sorry, I seriously need a drink right now. Can you hold that thought?”

Seokjin chuckles and nods, his palm hovers over your back, guiding you. “I’ll come with you.” You don’t really know why he has to follow just for you to shortly grab a drink, and then he points to his empty glass. You nod knowingly, trying to focus on the booze bar you are heading to. The bar is crazy extravagant for a frat party, with the bartender pouring mixed drinks on the side. You silently gasp. Damn, Hoseok is really that rich, huh?

He continues with a cheeky smile. “I have been looking forward to talking to you since forever, and you just bolted out. Is it wrong of me to be scared you are going to pull the same trick again?”

Wow, you don’t even know what he means by that, so you let out a nervous chuckle as an answer. It is like you are back to third grade, having your first crush giving you hope by his words and you are busy configuring and overthinking everything like fucking detective conan. But you refuse to get your hopes up, your brain desperately screaming to fill your glass with your favorite whiskey. You offer him the bottle, and he smirks and receives it while purposefully brushing your hand in the process. Fuck Kim Seokjin. What happen to such a polite boy you heard so much about?!

“So, are you going to tell me about yourself?” He smiles, and your finger fidgets in nerve, quickly taking a whole gulp of the alcoholic drink, praying it to quickly intoxicate your mind so you can speak clearly in front of such handsome face. Well, for one booze is the best recipe for you during these times.

“I don’t know what you want to know about me, Seokjin. I’m just an ordinary freshman.” You smile, your teeth grazing your lower lips. But one thing you notice is that Seokjin is silent, his eyes following the movement of your bitten lips like he is completely bothered by it.

“Do you like taekwondo? I see you a lot in the match.” He starts with a simple question, while taking a large portion of his drink down his throat and ending it with a sigh. “When you were watching, you looked like you knew your stuff. It’s TMI, but I can’t help but to find it’s totally, totally hot.”

“So you are watching me watching people during a Taekwondo match?” You bravely shoot, and Seokjin let out a chuckle. You do not know what has gotten on him—or you, even at that point. What you know is that you feel your head is light, but your body is hot and bothered by just looking at him. Seokjin just literally flirts on you and all you wanna do is to jump on him and quench the thirst rubbing in the middle of your thigh.

At the time, you notice that Seokjin is bluntly staring at your lips, his eyes turned dark and heavy with lust, and his face literally inching closer and closer to you. You lick your lips, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Is it really going to happen? Seokjin somehow, against all odds, finds you hot and that's it—you’re going to kiss him like that? Just how many years of luck do you have to sacrifice for this?

“Seokjin! Here you are. Hoseok is looking for you.”

The strange sexual tension that filled the air between you and Seokjin with your lips just inches away from each other is broken by the dumbest fuck of a best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Seokjin immediately flinches, moving away and you instinctively turn your head, your hands scratching your nape out of shyness. You swear you are going to kill your best friend after this. How dare he interrupt the moment you have been dreaming for such a long time now?!

“Thanks for that, man.” Seokjin hisses, his words dripping with sarcasm and annoyance of your interrupted session. He turns his regretful eyes to you, hands resting on your shoulder, sliding to your wrist affectionately. You do not know whether it’s just you, but your body feels like it is set on fire with his light , feathery touches. He suddenly grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“I’ll find you later, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

You shyly nod, and Seokjin turns his back on both of you and walks further away to the other side of the gigantic house. After his disappearance, you quickly land a hard punch on Jungkook’s arm in agitation.

“You are fucking idiot and I hate you! How dare you interrupt us like that?! We were just about to kiss, you moron!”

Jungkook frowns, rubbing on the spot you just hit. “Hey! I am doing this for your own good. You are certainly going to regret kissing that guy! He is not that good, you’re better off without him.”

You hisses at his lackluster explanation. “I don’t know what crack you are sniffing, Jeon, but you just told me yesterday to attend this party and bone him. And now you’re pulling this shit?!” 

“I know! But I just don’t like it with him. I feel like he’s up to something.” You sigh after listening to his nonsense. Seriously, you can’t believe it. The first time you ever try to flirt and kiss someone you just met, and get a response—from Kim Seokjin, more to emphasize—at a party has to be interrupted by your fuckboy best friend. You have overestimated your luck.

At your sudden silence, Jungkook takes the time to raise his gaze and take in your appearance from head to toe. You are wearing your black sleeveless bodycon dress, the one you once drunkenly bought a year ago and always have been placed on the back of your closet. You compliment your dress with a pair of red heels, fresh from Lia’s closet. Your wavy hair is styled nicely, tied up that exhibits your neck line to the slightest of your collarbone. Your makeup is rather simple, but the red lips is just the perfect end-touch to your appearance today. You are simply beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that, you hobo?” You snort when feeling Jungkook’s gaze is too intimidating around your body—you fold your arms protectively on your chest. At your mocking question, Jungkook quickly throws his head somewhere else, sniffling his itchy nose. He seriously needs to catch himself before he erupts and makes a fool out of himself. But one he somehow forgets is that his body is way, way more truthful in speaking his mind than he really is. 

“Hey! How was it? Have you scored Seokjin yet?”

On your side, Lia shuffles with a bottle of beer and a knowing smirk. You sigh, shaking your head mournfully. Your wingman nearly yells.

“Why?! I voluntarily shove you too, back then! I saw you guys are chilling together so I decided to grab something for a sec and now you’re telling me he’s gone and you both did nothing?!”

To answer her question, you just vehemently point Jungkook. “This asshole decided to ruin everything. Just when it is about to happen, Lia! His lips were this close.” You mourn your lost chance, mimicking his lips hovering over yours. Jungkook quickly pushes your hand away from your lips with annoyance, eyebrows scrunched together in disgust. 

“You are creepy, and I am doing this for the sake of my frat brother. He is better off with someone else.” He pouts, his face looking severely annoyed and red. But it’s not just any kind of red. It’s vermillion, just the way you remember it from your elementary school, along with the childish pout on his lips. Ignoring your previous anger at him, you scrutinize his face closely and shift his face side by side with your palm, and he looks completely flustered. What in god’s name is happening?

“Hey, why are you so red, Jungkook? Are you okay?”

At the sudden attention thrown at him, Jungkook’s face just becomes even redder—if it is even possible. Realizing that he is in a very unfortunate situation at the moment, Jungkook quickly racks his brain for any reason to avoid your pesky questions. “I—I just think it’s too hot in here. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s literally four air conditioners in this room, Jungkook. It’s freezing cold in this place. Who the fuck has four ac in just a living room anyway? Damn you, capitalism!” You hissed, unamused with his lies. Jungkook grins, realizing how idiotic he must have sounded. At your last statement, you are suddenly self-conscious about the coldness in the room, rubbing your bare arms to create friction and warmth. He quickly notices your subtle gesture.

“Are you cold? Here, use my jacket.” Jungkook instinctively offers, not even waiting for your answer and unattaching the fabric of his body. At the kind gesture, you are touched as he seems to always understand you without you even need to say a thing. But when you see he is just wearing a body-fit black shirt underneath the denim jacket he was wearing—clearly, that jacket is going to go either way—you immediately snort. That bitch is just asking for an opportunity to flex the unnecessary muscle in front of the girls there, no need for you to feel flattered whatsoever.

“God, you’re both so fuckin domestic and boring. I’m off finding fun somewhere else, don’t wait for me~” Lia coos, walking to the other side of the house along with her bottle of beer. Well, Lia basically knows her ways in and out of frat parties, so you are not worried for her. If somehow Seokjin does not find his way back in thirty minutes, you promise yourself to hitch an uber as fast as you can and bolt out of that shitshow without making a scene. 

As the girl who somehow looks exactly like his ex exits their space, Jungkook reverts his focus back on you. You are busy looking anywhere else but him, your lips clamp on the glass to sip on the beverage. “Aren’t you tired with those heels? Let’s sit somewhere else.” He offers lowly.

You comply either way, somehow feeling a little bit suspicious over Jungkook’s sudden calm demeanor. You know him and how he is at parties. He should not be with you right now, instead joining his dumb jock friends and the girls at the other side playing body shots. This is borderline weird—you don’t want to interrupt him during his fuckboy activities, now both you and Jungkook are seated on the sofa in the corner of the room. 

“Are you okay, Jungkook? You are suspiciously silent.”

Jungkook clears his throat again, but all of a sudden loses all remaining composure when your finger delightfully skims his cheek. “And your face is red. There must be something wrong. The last time I saw you like this was—”

Jungkook knows what you are about to say but decided not to. He decided to ignore your suddenly awkward gesture and answers. “It’s not that, I—I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

You suddenly scoop his fingers and squeeze it lightly. “Is it because I am here? I swear Jungkook, you don’t have to accompany me. I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know it.”

“I want to accompany you.” Jungkook denies, not knowing how to speak his mind in any other way. His gaze is filled with unexpected sincerity, you don’t really know how and why. “I attend these parties, meet these people nearly everyday, Y/N. But they don’t have what we have. And now that you here, of course I would rather be with you.”

You don’t know whether it is the alcohol in your spine or the bass thumping likely on your heart, but you clearly feel something about the words. You feel important. You feel needed. And the way Jungkook looks at you right now? You feel like it’s somehow filled with new, raw emotions you never found on him before. The way his fingers are clasped on you—it’s like he is holding it for dear life. You can not deny that you are mildly confused by the sudden tension between you and Jungkook.

“Here you are, Y/N. I’ve been searching for you.” 

Seokjin is now standing in front of you and Jungkook, his eyes silently trailing on the fingers intertwined with you and your best friend, but refusing to comment. Realizing how awkward the moment must have been for the three of you, you swiftly jump on your feet, cheeks slightly reddening out of shyness while Seokjin still maintains the charming smile on his lips. “Can I take you somewhere else? This party is too loud. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“Mmm.. Okay.” You mutter, trying your best not to glance at Jungkook. You want to avoid adding more fuel to the awkwardness—well, you are too emotionally incapable to face whatever emotion you were having with Jungkook just now. He is just a thoughtful best friend, why are you even dwelling on it like it’s something new in your friendship? And being the coward you truly are, you answer the offer of Seokjin’s hand, following him to the outside without glancing even once at Jungkook. Even if all you can think about is him and what the hell just happened.

*

It’s been nearly two weeks, but you have yet to receive any message, or call, or anything from Jungkook. It’s not his fault, though—you could have started a conversation yourself, but you always find yourself hesitating while typing words on your screen. Maybe it’s because Jungkook has mostly been the one to start any conversation, and now nearly two weeks has passed since your last encounter and you have no idea how to start. Idiot.

You are still lounging in your bed, mustering yourself to be brave enough to say anything to Jungkook. When suddenly a message arrives, you are startled, swiftly clicking it open. But seeing the sender, you sigh in disappointment. It’s not Jungkook.

From : Seokjin

Hey, you are coming to the practice, right? [12:40]

Do you want to grab a bite after that? I have this coupon I need to use:) [12:41]

Ah, Seokjin. Since that fateful night in the party, you have been frequently hanging out with him. He is a senior in your department—he is even the assistant for some of your classes—so you do meet frequently. It is weird now that you are acquainted with him, he is everywhere, like literally everywhere. Especially because after that night, he asks you to join the taekwondo club based on your interest and previous experience. And who are you to reject? You like Taekwondo, and you like him. Talking about killing two birds with one stone, right?

But now you feel on the edge nearly all the time because your fuckboy best friend is missing in action. You want to tell him everything, but you feel like you have sinned him greatly for ditching him that night. It’s even hard to find out why! All you know that he might just find another girl to fuck with that night, and both of you know that the only thing in first that invite you to the party is because Seokjin is there—even Jungkook propose you to bone him! You seriously hate yourself for feeling this way.

“Jungkook, you are a complete moron!” You hiss, throw the phone to the desk and dip your face to the pillow.

Okay, new plan. It’s better for you to just meet and confront him directly. So tomorrow after class, you are going to meet him after his 8am, and just point and blame him for ghosting your friendship. Well, he is not ghosting, but that’s not the point! It’s a brilliant plan, yet you find yourself strangely terrified for what is about to happen.

*

Tomorrow morning, you are going to ask Lia to walk to class together, yet you find she is already missing, bed is made and cleaned. It’s weird to see her wake up so early since she is absolutely not a morning person, but you shrug it anyway, expecting to see her in class. Still, even after the professor arrives, you find her regular place beside you is empty. You send her a message, but it is met with no reply. Skipping class is not really rare in her case, so you just silently attend, mind filled with the plan you will execute later on.

After class, as previously planned, you directly head to Jungkook’s faculty. You can remember it vividly, Jungkook’s class for the morning is always running late due to his old as hell professor, who talks extremely slowly and loves to discuss anything but the topic he is supposed to teach, hence your plan. You are going to wait in front of his class, supposedly asking to grab brunch together before accusing him for ignoring you altogether.

But then, what you find while walking on the bridge connecting the two faculties catch you by surprise. It is Lia, talking to a man who's back you easily identify as Jungkook—you can detect those small waist everywhere, hidden cladly in a slim fit dress shirt. Both of them are engaged in serious talk, with Jungkook’s face a little bit tense and Lia’s face looking like she completely had enough.

Lia? And Jungkook? Your eyes must be deceiving you right now.

With all will, you march onto them, and even the fact that they are talking, just the two of them without you is weird enough, they don’t even realize your presence until you are tapping on Jungkook’s shoulder with a suspecting gaze. The moment he finds you, he unconsciously jumps a few steps back with a loud gasp, exactly like whenever he has been caught doing something bad. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“Yes. I was just about to catch you after your class, Jungkook, maybe we can grab a bite together.” The moment you let out those words, you heard Lia snickers and Jungkook immediately throws her a look. 

“Finally. You both should eat together! and I don’t know—maybe be truthful at each other? or anything, I don’t care. I’m out of here.” She walks out, not minding your voice calling out to her. You seriously have zero idea what she means, but Jungkook quickly places his hands on both your shoulders—desperate for your focus, his cheeks now colored in bright shade of red.

“Don’t mind her. Let’s go eat.”

You stop your track against Jungkook’s force of pulling you away, scrutinizing his face closer with a worried gaze. “Jungkook, you are acting weird. And you are sooo red. Are you sure you are okay?”

Jungkook hastily nods, pulling you to the place you both usually grab coffee at, not really far from his faculty. On the way, both of you still fall in silence, and one thing your eyes could focus on is his fingers, tightly intertwined on yours—the same gesture he has been doing for around ten years now. 

Is it weird that now you definitely do not feel nothing from just holding his hands?

*

Both of you are seated on your usual spot—near the window inside the coffee shop, right after ordering. “So. Are you going to tell me where you have been these past two weeks?” You questions, sipping on your usual choice of espresso. Jungkook grimaces, his fingers clasping against each other nervously. Not that he expects you to beat around the bush.

“I am just kinda busy. With practice and studying.” He silently answers, eyes still not looking anywhere else but you. And what kind of best friend are you not to notice that?

You nod cryptically, decide against pushing it.  Even though skeptic, what he said does seems plausible. “So, what’s up?’

“Just the regular.”

Your left eyebrows raise. “No news on your fuckboy conquest of one night stands?”

Jungkook eyebrows scrunched. “You’re disgusting.”

You are baffled at that. “What?! I am disgusting? Jungkook, you have been explicitly telling me stories about these girls you sleep with for already two years now. What are you, playing coy?“

Jungkook sighs tiredly. Instead of answering, he reaches for your glass of espresso, sipping it before wincing due to the bitterness—like a fucking moron doing his usual thing. It seems already too familiar, so you just shrug it and focus on the initial topic instead. “I just… I haven’t been sleeping with anyone these past two weeks, okay?”

You send him a cryptic look, and Jungkook complains in frustration. “I am not lying! I am not an animal, okay? I am tired sometimes, and I am allowed to not do that anymore.”

“Jungkook, there is no way you are not going to parties and not sleeping with these girls. You have been doing these for two years. What gives?” You push, as you know there must be something he is hiding from you. Jungkook sighs, looking at you with a gaze filled with strange emotions.

“I—I haven’t been to parties too. Look, I am just not feeling it, okay? I just.. I just needed a break.”

Looking at Jungkook, it is difficult to even imagine him not doing all his usual popular jock activities. And now he told you he hasn’t been to parties for two weeks? It’s really unlike him. He hasn’t missed a single party for these past two years since high school to the point you have a hard time remembering what he used to do on Friday nights. Something must have happened, that’s for certain.

“Do you want to tell me why?” You ask him carefully, your fingers reaching out to his. He looks up at you, something in his face tells you that something indeed has happened. And suddenly, your mind flashes to the event that just occurred. Could it be?

“Does it have anything to do with Lia? This morning, when you met her?”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge, his hands are harshly pulled to his lap, away from you. You can detect his chest pumped, heaving too much air in, eyes nervously scanning away. Too many reactions for a mere ‘nothing happened’. “I—I don’t know? What do you mean?”

“It’s weird! You were literally avoiding her before, Jungkook. But then I saw you meeting her alone. What happened? Tell me.” You persuade, determine to get to the end of it. But the answer you are given is only a nervous shake of head, with shade of red slowly creeping in his face. Another trait that you know from Jungkook, is his inability to hide his feelings—at least in front of you.

Due to his prolonged silence for his orders arrival, you silently guess what might have happened with him. A flash of unpleasant image enters your head and you wince internally. God, please don’t let it be true. You even have a hard time to spell those words. 

“Jungkook, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

Jungkook’s face is flushed in a bright shade of red, as he shakes his head vigorously. “You are crazy. I did not sleep with your best friend.”

A sense of relief washes you. “So tell me what it is! What is it that you can’t possibly tell me? It must be it, or do you expect me to believe you somehow have feelings for her?!” You mindlessly intrude, but now seeing Jungkook’s face is vermillion red and how silent he is for a few seconds after the accusation, you can’t even believe there is a chance it might be true.

You hesitantly approach, voice caught up midways. “You… do you have feelings for Lia?”

Jungkook stares back at you, and you can see a hint of sadness on his eyes. Internally, he is terribly conflicted. He doesn’t know what he can say to you. He already has the answer to your query on the tip of his tongue, clearer than anything else but he cannot do that. It would be unfair to everyone, especially you. 

In life, Jungkook believes he is a risk taker—he is taught that way, ever since he was a little kid. Risk is what makes life even better and interesting. But how can he gamble with what you both have right now? He could never take that risk for what you have right now with him. It’s too much in stake—a game not worthy to play, and he knows his chances like the back of his hand. So he forces a smile, mustering all his might to say something that he is well aware does not reflect what he is truly feeling.

“I—I think so..”

Listening to his answer, you nod slowly, not knowing exactly how you feel. You are happy for him—for Jungkook to finally find someone he likes, someone who can get him off the meaningless sex routine he has been accustomed to for awhile now. And truth to be told? Lia is one of the best girls you ever acquaintanced with. If one thing you can ever count on, is that both of your best friends are great people that somehow grealy deserve each other. Lia is pretty, smart, fun to talk and party with, and allegedly good at sex—you don’t really now, it’s just what she claims to be—and Jungkook is the kindest soul out there—even if he is a certified douchebag once in a while—but they really fit each other well.

But is it disappointment in the pit of your stomach?

Noticing how silent you have become, Jungkook quickly takes the opportunity and changes the topic he instantly regrets. “So, how are things with Seokjin? I hear you both are hitting it well.”

Your throat feels constricted, so you clear it, hoping your stupefiedness is unrecognizable. “Yup. He is a good guy. I am now in the Taekwondo club as well, so… yeah I’ve been seeing him a lot too.”

“I am glad you finally got into the club! I remember how much of a pain you are, always go on and on talking about Taekwondo.” He rigidly smiles, eyes still trained on the dish served in front of him, cutting it in pieces. God, he is seriously digging his own grave with this fake supportive best friend shit.

“Yeah, whose fault is it that I got off Taekwondo in the first place, huh?”

Jungkook sighs, resting his utensils on the plate. He is aware of it very well, he knows what a fucking coward he has been since little, which may had forced you giving up on taekwondo—something you really loved. You can’t even imagine how guilty he is about everything. You have been the one thing keeping him sane, yet he always thinks himself on the recipient side of the friendship. And the midst of his current vulnerable state, he feels greatly undeserving of you. Who is he kidding? You might even regret saving him from humiliation on that fateful day, ten years ago.

Sensing that your joke may have not been taken well by Jungkook, you reach out to him, placing your palm on his, trying to soothe the indignation palpable on his face. “Jungkook, I am sorry.. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.. I know. It’s okay.” Jungkook answers, lips pursed into a tight line. You can see that he is indeed piqued, and truthfully, it is your fault. He always blames himself for the time he felt you sacrificed so much for him—like Taekwondo, for example. You convince him that it is not his fault since you can always go back to Taekwondo again—you just choose not to, but he always blames himself, thinking of the what ifs. You should not have brought it up and joked about it.

The silence then ensues, the tension between you and him thickens like you can slice it and choke it down your throat. You were about to apologize again, right when your phone rings and displays Seokjin’s name on the screen .Jungkook definitely saw the name too himself. You are hesitating whether to answer or not, before Jungkook answers it for you rigidly, jaw clenched tight. 

“Answer it.” 

When you are in the middle of conversation with Seokjin—and unimportant one, Jin is just asking what are you doing because he is bored in the middle of intensive taekwondo training, so you just casually tell him about grabbing a brunch with Jungkook—your best friend quickly flips few bills from his wallet, raising up from his seat. You swiftly hold him back, cutting off the ongoing call without even saying goodbyes. “Jungkook, where are you going?”

“I guess you must be somewhere with Seokjin, right? Let’s go, don’t want to keep the handsome boy waiting.”

The way Jungkook pronounces every word is heavy with sarcasm, and it wounds you. Is he seriously telling you that you are going to ditch him for Seokjin? Dry tears are lounging on the corner of your eyes till your visions are blurry, and it is hard to even breathe. How dare he play that game to you? Does he really think he has any right to treat you like that?

Jungkook must have noticed your contorted face and inevitable tears, and he is quick to apologize. “I am sorry, I didn't mean it like—”

“Save it.” You curtly cut him, slapping a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn to pay now. And you are correct. Thank you for that, I will find that handsome boy right now.”

If Jungkook calls you again, you are unable to hear it. Too pissed off to even breathe, your head feels like it’s about to explode along with tears that are quick to rain on your parade.

*

After you storm off the brunch with Jungkook, your afternoon class is fortunately cancelled. Instead of going with your words and meeting Seokjin, you decide you are too emotionally exhausted and head back home. So here you are, chilling in your apartment alone, watching netflix and eating popcorn after completing a long nap of five hours straight. Your phone is far ducked inside your room, as you notice Jungkook has blown off your phone for quite a while now, and you are this close to answer it so you throw it away. That bastard definitely deserves a lesson for pulling an unfunny passive aggressive prank like that.

While you are in the middle of refilling your bowl for the second batch of popcorn, your apartment door is swung opened. It is Lia, with a huge triumphant smile on her face. “Look what I brought us!”

You don’t even know the reason why, the moment you are looking at Lia’s face, you immediately remember Jungkook’s claim that he has feelings for this girl. For your best friend. For a girl who looks exactly like his ex. Damn, did you really sound that bitter?

“What is it?” You fake enthusiasm, even if what you really want to do is sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Chicken and beer! Not just chicken, this is the exact brand and flavor you like! I think since we rarely hang out nowadays, tonight we can watch bad movies together and eat and drink unhealthy food and drinks we probably will regret in the morning!” She cheerfully shouts, resting the packages of food on the table, running to her room to change into comfy clothes.

You bite your lips, regretting how undeserved she is for your cynical thoughts. You are greatly touched by her mindful gesture. Albeit harsh and sometimes cold, Lia is really affectionate at times, kind and selfless to her friends, especially you. You can’t even count how much she helped you, saving you from an embarrassment or humiliation due your sloppy and forgetful trait. The mind is indeed a dangerous place, and you should limit any possible toxicity that might be planted and grow in it.

So you and Lia jump to watch some chick flick which she always denies to like, but somehow always in tears after. One thing that you might not realize is that you often find yourself staring at her, thinking about how easy it is to like her. She is really the dream girl. Pretty, strong, funny and independent. She’s basically perfect. You even doubt Jungkook deserves her, seriously.

“Honey, another look and I think I might just go gay for you.” Lia sighs, resting the chicken drumstick on the plate. You avert your eyes on the TV, shy of being caught staring. “What is it? Are you falling for me? I swear—”

“No, I just.. Nothing.”

You are silent, busy gulping the beer to hide how flustered you are right now. Damn, are you really that obvious? “There must be something. Y/N, I will not push, but you know you can tell me everything. Nothing will surprise me, seriously.”

You nod, throwing your attention back to the movie. But not even five minutes, the curiosity gets the best of you, so you decide to mum a question to her. 

“Lia, what do you think about Jungkook?”

You kind of wish she does not hear you, but it is instantly cancelled since she answers. Yup, she can hear your silly question, loud and clear.

“Jungkook? He is hot, good looking and kind. A little dumb and blabber a little bit too much, but I think it’s manageable.” She nonchalantly answers, suddenly her prodding eyes are thrown at you. “Where does this suspicious question come from?”

“Nothing! I just want to know what you think of him.” You bitterly smile. Yes, definitely that and only that.

Another ten minutes pass and you open another question, still full of hesitation whether it’s best to ask or just keep it to yourself, yet it’s literally killing you so you ask anyway. “Hypothetically speaking. If… I don’t know, Jungkook confesses to you he likes you. Would you accept it?”

Lia looks at you strangely — like you have grown another head, when her face suddenly brightens, an imaginary light bulb practically pictured on her head. A sleazy smile is worn on her lips, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. “Ah! So that is about all this. Finally!”

“Of course! Jungkook is a nice guy, he is kind, respectful, albeit a little annoying and dumb, he is hot, which kinda makes it even. He listens well, and strangely gives good advice.” Lia brightly smiles, literally like the woman who endorses cooking items in the supermarket to middle aged mothers. “I think anyone having a monogamous relationship with that manchild is very, very lucky!”

You do notice how exaggerated and odd her sentence is, but when you are about to reply, few soft knocks are heard on your door. So keeping the words back, you wake up and mindlessly open it.

Well, It turns out to be Seokjin, and he could arguably be the last person you think would be standing in front of your doorstep now.

“Seokjin? What are you doing here, at this time of the night?”

Seokjin answers with a serene smile, his eyes sparkling amidst the dim hallway. “I am sorry to be at your doorstep this late. I just… I just want to talk to you. Is that weird?”

Your heart literally skips a beat at that. Seriously? Seokjin comes to your apartment at 10pm just to talk to you? Is this even real? “You can’t just call me? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I don’t want to tire you. You just finished your crazy tiring training!”

“I’ve been trying to contact you, but I went into voicemail. So I guess, more reason to meet you, right?” Seokjin shyly smiles, scratching his nape. God, have you ever mentioned that he is really cute? “I hope I’m not a bother.”

“No! Of course not. But my roommate is here. Do you want to go somewhere else? I think one restaurant near here is still open.” You quickly offer and Seokjin agrees with a nod. You are hurriedly about to grab your purse, when Lia walks out to the doorstep, meeting Seokjin.

“Hi! You must be the roommate. I’m Seokjin.” Seokjin offers a hand along with a charming smile. Lia receives it with confusion written on her face. 

“Are you both going somewhere?” She asks, puzzled. You slightly run to the door, hoping there is nothing to be discussed amongst the three of you anymore.

“Yes! We are. I’ll be back soon, see you!” You quickly smile and close the door right on her face. Damn, you don’t know what has gotten into you, but you really can’t seem to shake that cautious feeling. It really needs time before you even consider letting Seokjin hang out with your nosy friends. Like Lia, or even Jungkook.

Especially Jungkook.

*

Jungkook is sitting with Taehyung, his project mate on the corner of a restaurant near your apartment. He has been trying to contact you since afternoon but you still haven’t replied to his call nor messages, it makes him feel guilty beyond words. He shouldn’t have snapped like that at you, you literally did nothing and he blew everything way out of proportion—especially when that dickhead Seokjin called you. And now he is nearly losing his mind, because he doesn’t want to spend another minute in your probable wrath. How can everything be so messed up?

“Dude, stop calling her. She’ll call you soon. Why is this such a big deal?” Taehyung groans when Jungkook relentlessly dial your number once more. He doesn’t even know why, but another call you ignore, he might combust and run to your apartment, begging for reconciliation. He is seriously just that desperate.

The call fails, yet Jungkook is still tapping on the call again button when Taehyung meddles in his pathetic best friend obsession. “Hey, stop! Why are you doing this, dude? You like this girl or what?” 

At Taehyung’s accusation, Jungkook was silent. “I don’t know. But I can’t stop, Tae. Or I’ll go crazy.”

Taehyung sighs, giving up and instead going back to his work. As long as the tasks are divided, he would not be bothered by his friend’s crazy fixation towards a so-called-friend. Seriously, why do people even want to monogamously date? It’s such a hassle, and unimportant. Girlfriends are liabilities, and Jungkook of all people should know it!

After being rejected for another three calls, Jungkook finally gives up, slamming the phone on the desk. “I give up. She’ll never answer. Fuck it, I need to work.”

Taehyung glances at that guy trying to focus on the task in front of him. Everyone can see how out of place he is—if there’s a guarantee Jungkook will not land a punch to his precious face, he really wants to tease him right now it is hilarious. Damn, his friend is whipped.

Amongst the silence, Jungkook’s phone suddenly rings. Throwing the thousand page book in his grasps right away, he answers it like a madman—probably without even checking the caller. It must not be the girl of his dreams, since his hopeful puppy face instantly sombers.

“Of course not! How can I, we just got into a fight.”

After listening to the faint caller’s word, his knuckles intimidatingly whiten due, jaw tightening. “Seriously? They are leaving now?”

A few banter and the call ends, but Taehyung can see how bothered the guy is after the call. He is no longer bothered to even pretend he is working, instead his eyes hollow, zooming out to nothingness. But another five minutes, a slight tingling from the entrance bell is heard and Jungkook feels like his heart is about to fall out he instinctively ducks his head. Taehyung tries to steal a look to the source of attention, and it’s you, the girl he has seen a lot previously with Jungkook and Seokjin… Together while holding hands.

Oh, oh. This is bad.

Jungkook really should just storm out. He is never the masochist type, but somehow curiosity gets the best of him so he stays, his work is completely ignored. He focuses on glaring to the other side of the restaurant where you and Seokjin sit near the window, nonchalant to his presence while lively and affectionately talking to each other. And for fuck sake, can fucking Seokjin get his hands off you? It takes everything in his power to ignore the need to slap those dirty paws away.

“Jungkook, we should go..” Taehyung silently pleads, noticing how tense his friend has become since you and Seokjin arrived. But Jungkook is unable to hear or sense anything, was too focused on probing both of you while trying not to be caught.

It is a rather short meal, as you and Seokjin only ordered a dessert to share and Jungkook is irritated. You finished a bowl of ice cream in one sitting and you can’t seriously get a dessert for your own? Disgusting—After approximately thirty minutes, you and Seokjin head out, hand by hand with a sickeningly shy smile on both of your faces.

Jungkook thinks that is the end of it, thank God he can finally breathe. But how wrong he was to even think he will remain unscathed, because as both of you stand in front of the restaurant, Seokjin bravely pulls you closer by the nape and crashes his lips on yours. It feels like a punch to Jungkook’s gut, seeing how blissful both of you are engaged in a sweet kiss, your hands on his cheek and his hands clasped on your waist. There’s the anger, the jealousy raging inside Jungkook’s chest at the moment that it’s even difficult to breathe. 

As now both of you and Seokjin have left the scene, Taehyung forces himself from the tense situation to steal a glance at Jungkook. Just seeing him—staring at the ceiling with no expression whatsoever—radiates the devastation and frustration he is currently experiencing. God, Taehyung hopes he will never have to experience that kind of emotion in his life.

*

During ten years of friendship with Jungkook, you never knew what it feels to have him avoid you. But now that you are exactly being treated like a plague by him, you wish you were warned beforehand because it fucking hurts. And you have no idea how or why, and you have no one to console your loss — not even Seokjin, or Lia. Well it mostly because you don’t want them to realize how fucking dependent you are to Jungkook, it’s pathetic.

“Kitten, you are spazzing out. Are you sure you are okay?”

Seokjin’s words are nearly lost on you, and the moment his hand is on yours, you unconsciously flinch. He is now examining you, with a gaze full of worry. 

“If you are feeling not okay, we can just go home.” Seokjin kindly offers, but you shake your head fervently, not wanting to wallow again in your sadness. You can’t take this away from Seokjin, when it’s his dearest fellow frat brothers—especially the seniors who are having the party. Seokjin as the angel he is will not let you be alone in your apartment.

Since the day you meet Jungkook for brunch, a week has passed and it seems like you and him are in the middle of a cold war. It’s not like you are not speaking to each other, but every word coming from him speaks distance and you are tired and just stop trying—yet it doesn’t lessen the pain. And now you are going with Seokjin for his frat party, and you know Jungkook will be there—it might be the reason you are simultaneously eager and despise going to the party. You are terribly anxious about facing him, but you can’t back down when you know you did nothing wrong.

In front of the frat house, Seokjin holds your hand and brushes his lips to your temple as an encouragement. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

You throw your gaze at Seokjin’s side profile. Seriously, what did you do to deserve him? He is seriously the kindest soul out there, always looking for your best interest. He never hesitates to go big for you, yet you can help but to feel guilty. He is too kind. Too perfect. And you can’t shake this feeling of undeserving and owning him everything to him.

The moment your feet step into the party, your eyes instantly fall to someone so familiar yet so strange—Jungkook. He is leaning on a sofa, talking animatedly with two girls on either side, leeching to him like they are willing to take turns to suck him dry. You roll your eyes in disgust. What were you expecting? That Jungkook might go celibate and seriously get a grip on his life? You must be drunk. That bastard can’t even face the fact that he likes someone and actually does something about it.

Yes. He likes Lia. But being a total fuckboy is not what someone should do when he seriously likes someone, right? You just want the best for him, not wanting Jungkook to waste another time when he can have someone he truly likes instead of engaging in another one night stand.

While Seokjin is chatting with his group of friends, you excuse yourself to grab a drink. He, as the gentleman he is, offers to accompany you, but you refuse—mentioning it will only take a short while. And after finally settling in the kitchen where you can finally have a space for your own, you heave few deep breaths. You do not know exactly why, but being surrounded among strangers always sends you to a nervous bundle. 

That’s exactly the reason why you always avoid going to parties. You wanted to tell Seokjin about the anxiety you feel, but you feel like it’s too much of a burden to throw on him so you just swallow everything and hope for the best—but now you regret everything. At least previously, you have Lia and you are assured she is going to take care of you. Not that you don’t think Seokjin will not, but the trust issue you have for nearly everyone is not going to go away when you literally only know him for one freaking month.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice is heard and you look behind, seeing Jungkook with a worried gaze, his palm soothing your back. “You don’t really look good. Does the party bother you?”

You bask in his appearance, and sense the anxiety building up inside your head crashes into a loud sob. Seeing such a familiar face, worried about your well-being somehow instantly relieves you, and the emotion is excessive and you inevitably feel the urge to cry. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Jungkook whispers, pulling you inside his arms and enveloping you with the ever-so-familiar warmth. His fingers forming circles in your back, just the way he used to calm you on every rainy day, while you clutch into his jacket for dear life. 

“Why do you even come here, you idiot? You should have let me know.”

His ignorant statement somehow flares the anger inside you, and you irritatedly push him away with both your palms. Jungkook is a jerk, and you do not deserve any of this. “How can I let you know, Jungkook? When it’s crystal clear you are avoiding me. I haven’t heard anything other than your one two word messages. I can’t even call you!” 

The guilt is definitely painted on his face, confirming a guess that has been going around your head. He truly was avoiding you. “I—I don’t mean it like that…”

“What wrong did I do, Jungkook? How can you do this to me?” You whimper sadly. All the frustration inside you is coming out. “I know I was wrong, but this is not how we resolve things, Jungkook. You know it. And you can’t even tell me what’s wrong directly to my face, or even try to reconcile our friendship, instead you go back to partying, eye fucking two girls at the same time when I’m standing right here. Do you even know how it makes me feel?”

“It’s not that!” Jungkook defends himself, feeling the obnoxious guilt seeping inside his heart. He feels at fault now seeing how heartbroken you look, and the fact that he is the one causing them. It’s like he is finally awoken, that he has been selfishly trying to redeem himself from a one-sided love for his childhood best friend without thinking about how you feel. But in his defense, he thought you would be okay! 

“I...I just thought now that you have Seokjin, you won’t be needing me no more. He seems to be such a better companion than I am. And I know you like him so much, Y/N, I feel like...”

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

All of a sudden, Seokjin appears in the kitchen, staring at both you and Jungkook standing in front of each other with somber looks on each of your faces. He definitely was about to say something, but like he sobers up and puts up a thin smile and reaches out to you. “You take a long time to get a drink, so I thought I should check up on you.”

You quickly grab the nearest bottle of beer, giving a short, civilized smile to Jungkook to handle the pain throbbing inside his chest. You desperately need space away from him, swearing that you would do anything to avoid breakdown in the middle of a frat party filled with tons of strangers. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, Seokjin! Get your girl, we are going to play!”

That trademark voice was definitely Hoseok’s, gesturing you to join the circle of group with countless shots in the center—which is literally a recipe for a disastrous night. Seokjin is about to wave him off, intending to focus on your well being instead, but that is seriously the last thing you want to do right now. All you need is alcohol—lots of them and avoid whatever internal conflict you are having since that’s what you do best. Hence, you pull the older guy closer to the group cheering them on, forcing him to sit down beside you. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do this if you are not comfortable.” Seokjin consoles, his hands smoothing on your thigh. 

“But I want to!” You fake a cheer, pretending to sound enthusiastic. “I haven’t done this in a long time. I wanna do this again.”

Jimin—one of the other frat brothers, is counting the people and after clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “We need one more. Hey, Jungkook, come here!”

You quickly snap your head towards your so-called best friend, who just came out from the kitchen from your previous unpleasant encounter. Just a glance and you can see how messed up he looks right now. Jungkook seriously was about to flip Jimin off, instead wallowing himself in sadness and regret. But seeing you sitting in the circle, he gets no other choice but to accept the offer. All that he can think about is the annoying frat buddies of his who might force you to do the things you despise, along with your occasional social anxiety that might ruin everything for you. He will never forget himself if they happen without him there, when he had the opportunity to. He’ll do it, regardless of your current distaste for him.

“Okay! So we are going to play Never Have I Ever!” Jimin shouts, and your stomach dips in nerves. God, are you seriously going to do it? But then you feel a certain concerned stare is directed towards you, and your pride forces you to act nonchalant. You are not going to let Jungkook think he needs to babysit you again. The previous thing in the kitchen is humiliating enough, you don’t need another second. 

“It’s the usual. if you have done it before, drink a shot! Don’t worry, we have abundant alcohol supply and our dearest freshmen right here, kindly volunteer to refill the glasses.” You emphatically look amongst the fellow freshmen, standing outside the circle with bottles of alcohol in their hands. God, this reminds you why frat people are seriously the worst.

“I’ll start! Okay. Never have I ever sexted someone during class.”

A series of groans are heard in the circle, few people—some that you know are Taehyung, Hoseok, and even the smartest of the frat boys, Namjoon bottoms up their respective drinks. Seriously? They pay tuition to sext during class. What a disgrace.

And of course Jungkook’s glass is empty too. What did you expect?

Next is Hoseok. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm before!”

Well, that one is on you, but you are just glad to be able to finally drink. And damn is it good to finally have alcohol buzzing inside your system—it’s been way too long. After drinking his own, Seokjin offers to exchange your empty glass into a full one. You send a thankful smile his way.

“Never have I ever sent a nude to someone.”

Well, that's correct on your previous relationship with a dickhead in your high school. Wow, you feel the slight kick, but since your tolerance is quite high, your tongue still craves for more.

“Never have I had a threesome before.”

Your eyes curiously find Jungkook, as he bottoms up his third glass of the game, with only a few of the people there drink—Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and one of the unknown girls. Not that you did not expect it, but you find yourself mildly uncomfortable and somehow disappointed with the facts. He is Jungkook. You should have known it.

“Never have I ever roleplay mommy / daddy kink during sex.”

You detect Seokjin shyly drinking his glass, and you fake a gasp. The alcohol on your spine and the great atmosphere are a success in bringing up your mood. “Wow, I knew it! It’s all so clear, you must have daddy kink!” You let out a belly laugh as he softly pinches your waist, still abashed to the new found fact. What you miss is Jungkook shooting daggers both your ways and Taehyung on his side giving him a few comforting taps on the back.

“Never have I ever liked someone else when I was in a relationship!”

The question somehow kills every fun you have, as you silently recall your previous relationships. There was definitely something on your mind, but you quickly pushed them back. No. It did not make sense and still does, and it was something you chose to bury a long time ago. Pretending it never exists is way easier.

But when you straighten your back to regain your sense, your eyes instantly find Jungkook sipping on his alcohol whilst glaring at you, before throwing his back and bottoming it up. Not only that, even after he slams the glass back on the table he is still giving you the same intent stare. What does he want from you? If he is trying to mess with your mind it is not working—so you faked nonchalance, waiting for the next question, yet your mind is busy thinking about who might be on the receiving end of Jungkook’s feelings while he was in a relationship with his bitch of an ex.

The game goes on for another round, and boy was it a mess. As time goes by, the questions are getting out of hand, until a point you seriously think you need to see your therapist due to how traumatic the questions are. During the game you only drink five glasses, which is still not enough for you—and Seokjin, who apparently has a great alcohol resistance as well. The game ended when Hoseok and Taehyung were hugging each other with two bottles of vodka between them, noisily faking smooches sound to each other.

When Seokjin offers to walk away from the rainsacked table, one of the friends whom you recognize as Yoongi holds him back with a tactful smile. “Hey, Seokjin! I’m bored, Let’s play!”

“Yoongi, I think that’s enough play. I think me and Y/N are just going to talk.” Seokjin calmly refuses, when Jungkook comes to Yoongi's side, resting his arm on the smaller man with his face bright red, looking totally buzzed.

“Ugh, that’s so boring! Why don’t we just play a game!”

You snort when you can smell his breath reeking with booze. No wonders though, he only missed two shots during that godforsaken game. “Jungkook—”

“No! I want to play!” He childishly pouts again. Here goes Jungkook acting like a nine year old whenever he is drunk. You roll your eyes agitatedly. Can he grow up already? “I want to beat you and this boyfriend of yours. Let’s play beer pong!”

“That’s a great idea, Jungkook! I think for the prize the winner can ask the loser for anything.” Yoongi shows his gummy smiles forming a smirk. Seokjin was about to discard the offer when his friend cleverly ignited another fire. “What, you don’t think you can win? Or do you just don’t get the nerves to? Too scared to be beaten down in front of your girlfriend?”

Somehow the conversation is loud enough that it attracts people, and now everyone is wooing the provocative statement from Yoongi. He has been silent throughout the previous game, and you don’t even know why he is so keen about playing beer pong with you and Seokjin. Can’t he just ask someone else instead? But you are assured, since one thing you learned from athletes like Seokjin, he is not easily provoked by such cheap statements. 

“You are on.” He grimaces as you gape, not expecting the sudden plottwist. How can he just approve? Damn him, you seriously do not want anything to do with these frat boys! “But I swear to god if you lose, I am going to force you to kiss this manchild for fucking five minutes in front of everybody.”

“Well that’s not really a punishment if I will enjoy it, but go on.” Jungkook drunkenly shouts, Yoongi palpably shudders beside him. The crowd laughter goes wild, as other freshmen—you seriously really feel bad for them now—sets up the red solo cups on the table. Your head spins in confusion, as you literally have not once played beer pong before. It’s a lost cause, and you are going to be punished by those evil spawns!

“Seokjin, I seriously can’t play for shit!” You hisses in worry while Seokjin smiles as an assurance.

“No worry, Y/N. I am a reigning champion of beer pong is this godforsaken frat. We will surely win.” He holds you by the shoulder. You send a judging gaze to Jungkook as he pretends to look nonchalant, confidently rubbing his palm together. Damn, you really want to smack him in that idiotic drunk ass face of his. What a jerk! You just hope Jin is truly as good as he claims, because if not, you are completely, utterly fucked. And not even a good one.

The first thing you did wrong was to believe Seokjin is just as good as his words, because Yoongi—who you just knew is the captain of the basketball team—completely triumphs him through every shot. And you already in peace with the fact that your aiming skill is the worst thing that could happen to you, so there goes scoring zero. That bastard Jungkook, somehow amidst the drunkenness is able to score a lot as well—probably due to the fact that he also plays football. Now that you think about it, the game itself does not make sense. And not only that you lose, the glasses you shove down your throat are quite a lot, to the point you can finally feel the buzz of alcohol in your spine. Just fucking perfect!

“Yes! We win!” Jungkook gleefully shouts, seeing the last red cup in front of your table has the shiny yellow ball in it. Seokjin sighs in defeat, quickly taking the last glass and drinking it, completely forfeited. You groan, rubbing your aching temple. This is gonna be rough.

“Wow! Do we finally have the winner here?!” Yoongi shouts with mirth, as the crowd woo. “Well, I don’t want to hold you back, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I am just giving you a taste of your medicine. You can now make out with the bride.” Everyone snickers, and you are too shy to even look at Seokjin. “But we don’t want porn here, so just three minutes?”

“Are you okay with this? I can make him stop.” Seokjin asks calmly, as Yoongi snickers about his friend’s cringey thoughtfulness. Well now that everyone’s looking at you, you ain’t really got any choice, right? So you hesitantly nod as a permission, before Seokjin encloses his lips on you, and all you can sense is the deafening shouts of the crowd.

And Jungkook’s deflated back while exiting the room.

*

Two hours after the last disastrous beer pong and a three-minutes exhibitionist makeout session with Seokjin, you are shocked to still find yourself sitting at the frat party. Seokjin has asked you multiple times if you want to head home, but you refuse, feeding him lies about somehow still enjoying the party. Truthfully, you don’t even know what he is holding you back. You stopped drinking after the game, instead drinking lots of water to avoid a bad hangover in the morning. The party is dull, especially when you are no longer drinking and alone—Seokjin is asked by a few fellow final year friends to join them for a drink outside, so you assure him you’ll be okay staying back. All you do now is keep an eye on your so-called best friend, shoving alcohol down his throat like there’s no tomorrow. There were few girls around him, but the way Jungkook was not having it and instead focusing on the drinks—his nonchalance probably bore them so they fled, locking on other frat boys as targets. It is only Taehyung now with him, who looks just as drunk as he is. Literal dumbasses.

Amongst the loud bass thumping inside the room, your phone vibrates. You quickly excuse yourself from a couple who is now making out beside you—god, you seriously thought the girl was interested in talking to you before, but now she just ignores you while shoving her tongue down the boy’s throat!—and walks out to pick up the call. Against your expectation, it is Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun on the other side of the call..

“Y/N! Y/N, I am so glad you pick up!” Junghyun shouts loudly, sounds greatly relieved after listening to your greetings. You chuckle, realize it has been quite a long time since you heard from him. You desperately need to visit him sometimes, instead of constantly hanging out with his idiot younger brother.

“Hey, do you know where Jungkook is? We actually have to fly to Busan tomorrow morning, so we expect him to be home now. He even brought the car with him!” Junghyun shouts filled with stress, then you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. He will fly tomorrow morning, so why did he even bother to come to the party? You scoff in disbelief.

“Yes, oppa. I am in the same party with him, but he is not looking real good.” You answer, looking inside the frat house. Well, not that his brother is unaware of Jungkook’s current trait of drinking and partying—not that he supports it—but you just think that he would be more responsible in his choices, and the your disappointment at him is vivid as a day. Making his family worried, all because he just wants to party which he nearly does every week? It’s shallow even for him. “But I’ll get him home now, no worries.”

Junghyung release a relieved sigh. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you!”

After a shot goodbye, you close the call and furiously march inside the frat house, right to Jungkook’s side. He is still drinking, but now looking severely drunk while unreasonably laughing with Taehyung, and now Jimin as an addition. Three drunk guys are never a good combination. “Jungkook, you fucking idiot, let’s go home!” 

With that Taehyung whistle loudly, tapping Jungkook on the back fervently, pepping him. “It’s Y/N! God, finally she is asking you to get something-something!” You scrunch your eyebrows at the drunk ass guy with a reddened face. You are earnestly curious for what booze he is having so you can avoid drinking it forever.

“You want to go home? Let’s go home, babygirl.” Jungkook lowly whispers whilst standing up, but before you can even react to such provocative words, he limps—probably dizzy from consuming too much alcohol. You circle his arms on your shoulder, helping him cause you are certain he is unable to walk on his own now.

Limping to the outside of the house at the best speed you can do, you find his car is parked a few meters from where you both stand. You grumble, swearing that you would keep a tab in every kindness you give to this unthankful moron. 

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Jungkook whispers, the tip of his nose settles on the crook of your neck, brushing it to your skin repetitiously as he hums in delight. All of a sudden you feel like it is hard to breath, your nape hair standing from such impulse. Damn, how can he take so much reaction out of you? It’s totally unfair! “I love your smell, babygirl. I wish I could smell you everyday.”

“Jungkook, I smell like booze, smoke and sweat. And what the fuck is wrong with you!” You hiss, trying to calm your irregular heartbeat. And you can always trust Jungkook to somehow flirt with you in the middle of his drunken antics. “I need to get you home, Jungkook. Don’t make me throw you on the street, okay?”

Listening to your cold answer, Jungkook pouts, his arms fold on his chest. The luring persona he had is now replaced to the childish one, and you can’t believe you have to deal with it now. “You are being a meanie to Jungkook! You have to apologize!”

Boy did he mean it, because he is now refusing to enter the car until you apologize. You sigh in distress — but some part of you do enjoy the cute banter with your drunk best friend. You are definitely going to tease him about this after he is sober.  “Okay! I apologize, Jungkook. I won’t throw you away, and I will get you home safely. Satisfied?” He nods with a foolish smile.

Then you realize that you don’t know where he places his car keys at, so you ignore the warning in your head and search his pockets, trying to disregard that he is wearing tight-ass pants that force you to feel him up somehow. God, you can’t even shake the embarrassment creeping to your cheek. Where the hell is that key?!

“Y/N, do you seriously want to do it here? I want out first time to be in bed, please.” Jungkook politely says, like he did not just imply about sleeping with you — instead asking for a candy. You whimper, greatly embarrassed even if you know it’s only a drunken act. He does not mean it in any way possible, so the flutters inside your heart should stop! You curse yourself, despising how his words are now affecting your wellbeing.

After finding the key in his left back pocket, you open the door to him and he kindly obeys, but you take the chance and purposefully hit him in the head with the door. Serves him right! As Jungkook winces while bearing the physical pain, you gladly saunter to the driver's side, turning on the car and heading it to Jungkook’s address—which you already remember like your own, located not really far from university.

Few minutes pass in silence, so you think Jungkook already fell asleep, when a sudden question is heard and throws you away to shock.

“Do you like kissing Seokjin?”

“What the fuck—” You look at him, thinking he is joking but you find him staring back at you, eyes dead serious while his face is painted with no trace of mirth whatsoever. It sends you jitter and nerves all over your body. “Jungkook, I don’t understand why you are asking that.”

“I just want to know if he is a good kisser or not.”

“He doesn’t need to be a good kisser to make me like kissing him.”

You heard Jungkook’s breath hitched like it’s so hard to believe. “So you like kissing him?”

“That’s beside the point, Jungkook. I am just stating a fact cause your logic is flawed.”

You most definitely underestimated the level of distressfulness in his question when Jungkook literally growls, not liking the mind games you are playing on him. “I’m serious. Do. you. like. kissing. him. or not!”

“I don’t know why you are asking that, since it’s literally you who asks for the fucking beer pong game. Not to mention, it’s you who wants me to bone this guy, Jungkook.” You whisper, reminding him of the day he offers you to come to Hoseok’s birthday party. “That question is weird, I am not answering that.”

“I regret that day, everyday…” You hear him mutter silently while looking outside the window. You quickly warn yourself to avoid overthinking it. It’s unhealthy, and you’ve been here before! Better to turn off your feelings before everything gets messy on your side.

“Why do you even have to be bad at beer pong?! It’s just shooting fucking ball to a cup. How bad can you be to not even score a point?!” Jungkook childishly huffs, and you take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from landing a punch to his devilishly handsome drunk face. What you are going to do is ignore him, like an adult you truly are.

But the silence is too much and you just want to talk to him, hence opening up a new topic. “Jungkook, you know you have to leave for Busan tomorrow. You shouldn’t be partying the day before. Have you even packed?”

Jungkook looks at you and sighs, like he is mentally and physically drained—well, as he should from drinking that much. “How can I, when there’s a chance you are going to the party as well.”

You raise your eyebrow, unsure. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief when grasping how clueless you actually are. “I don’t know what fucking Seokjin has asks you to believe, but I am still your best friend, Y/N.  Since we were kids. I know you like the back of my hand, I know how you hate parties, how you dislike being around strangers, and I know how dangerous it is to be with these frat boys.”

He pauses. “And frankly, I just can’t trust Seokjin. Even with ten years of friendship, I’m still finding new, wonderful things about you and you expect me to trust a fucker who only knows you for a month? Seriously. I only trust myself to be capable of taking care of you.”

The sincerity in his words and gaze, how determined he is with his words seriously blinded your sanity—this part of you trying to assure that what he says is strictly platonic. Your heart is beating so fast it is literally painful to even breath, all the butterflies in your stomach fly without a care in the world. Does he really mean it? Do you even want to know what he means by the words?

The rest of the way passes in tense silence, both of you busy in each of your thoughts, and the car already approaches the street of his house. You sigh, putting on the break when you finally arrive in front of his house lane. “This is it, Jungkook. Go home, get some sleep. Don’t forget to eat some aspirin, and please wake up in time for your flight.”

Jungkook somberly nods, clicking his seatbelt off. You were about to say something, anything about addressing the elephant inside the car—to confirm whether he meant his words, whether he is indeed jealous of the punishment kiss with Seokjin. But then he beats you to it.

“Can I ask you one thing? And please promise me you will answer this.” He stares at you, and you hesitatingly hum as an answer, the tension is hard to miss.

“Answer me truthfully. Do you like kissing him? Seokjin, I mean.”

You sigh, not believing how still hung up Jungkook is on the matter. “Jungkook—”

“I know you like this guy so much, Y/N. I don't even want to ask that. I just want to know if you like the kiss. I wish this guy sucks in kissing, at least let me live with that.”

You look up to him, cheeks turning vermillion as he braves himself to look into your eyes. Your heart swells in pride, thinking how important it is to confirm that to you. God, has he really been this cute before?

“It was okay.” 

Listening to your answer, Jungkook smiles widens from ear to ear, like he is completely over the moon with okay as an answer. “Just okay? Not mind blowing whatsoever?” 

“It was okay.” You repeat, not confirming nor denying his latter question, but Jungkook still looks pleased with just the same answer. The manchild then hums, throwing both his arms around you, enveloping you into a hug so close like he never wants to let go. After a good minute he finally lets go, still with a million-dollar smile on his face and... rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes as he breathes your scent in. This time, you are definitely sure you are going to schedule a slot with a cardiologist because there must be something wrong with your heart for beating that fast. There must be. And then his eyes flutter open, showing a strained gaze filled with anonymous emotion. 

“Are you going to be mad if I were to kiss you now?”

At Jungkook’s hushed questions, the temptation to taste his lips and comply with his request has you blinded, so you let go of your sanity and approve with a shy nod. The realistic side of you is quickly shut down as you don’t want to argue with it now. All you are thinking and craving about is to kiss him, or else you are going to die.

As his lips advances, the kiss finally happens. You can vividly feel the fireworks light up inside your chest—a strange yet wonderful feeling, the first time you ever feel this away while kissing someone. Jungkook’s lips are soft, touching you slowly like he is testing the waters. After he feels your careful reply, he sends more pressure, slowly but sure savoring your lips like he is taking his dearest time with you. Boy did he taste amazing—like a good whiskey, even if it’s probably all on him. The kiss feels amazing, yet you find yourself getting impatient with how it progresses, since all you can think is to feel him close. God, you must have lost your mind.

“Patience, pumpkin.” He teases, and you can feel a sleazy smile formed on his lips. You snort in annoyance, but he unexpectedly uses it to his advantage, stealthily shoving down his tongue inside your mouth cave. You gasp when the taste of alcohol kicks in, but is content nevertheless. You can’t even describe how good it is to have him close, your fingers entangled in his beautiful oak brown silk hair, his hands tightly encircled on your waist. How did you even think about spending a lifetime without kissing him?

“God, can I have you now? But I hate doing it in the car—I want our first time to be special.” 

Somehow, his desperate words instantly sobers your lust-clouded head, viciously taking you back to reality. So he really thinks of you that easily. And like you are saved by the bell, his brother appears from inside the house, probably realizing that the car has arrived but yet to show his brother—for a bit way too long. You curtly shove him away, heading outside the car before slamming the door vigorously. Of course. Of fucking course that is going to happen! What do you expect? He kisses you once and is finally ready to take your hand in marriage? You should’ve known better than to fall for the same tricks he played on those dumb girls. He even does it while drunk, for god sake. You should’ve known better!

With heavy self-disappointment you quickly open your phone, opening an app to order your ride home. All you want to do is now wail in sadness, and promise yourself to never let that happen again. You are too focused on your plan to flee, so when you feel Jungkook’s touch against your skin, you instinctively flinch. You can see how pained he is to see your reaction closing him off, yet you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to say even a word to him. The more you think about what just happened, the stronger the ache you feel, so you decided to just stop trying. You desperately need some time alone.

“Y/N! You are here. Thank you so much from bringing Jungkook home. This kid never learns, I swear.” Junghyun smiles, nonchalant to the tense air between you and Jungkook. You put up a fake smile of reassurance to the older guy, shrugging his worry.

“Are you going home? I can drive you, just let me take this guy in first.” Junghyun kindly offers, but you quickly recide. How can you do that when just in a few hours they are going to fly to Busan? They are seriously too kind.

“I ordered my taxi, it will arrive soon, oppa. No worries!” You brightly smile, not minding the obvious stares of Jungkook on your skin. You thank your lucky stars after the white taxi of your choice gladfully is near enough, and the blinding light of the taxi car lamp finally allows you to breathe. “It’s here!”

“Hyung, please take the details of the taxi, will you?” 

While entering the taxi you hear Jungkook’s subtle request to his brother, yet you pretend to be clueless, since it is better this way. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You don’t want to mess with the things you have now. You are so conflicted you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

“Text me when you get home.” Jungkook rigidly murmurs and you nod with the same manner. The taxi finally moves, and after a few seconds of total silence, you find the tears you have been holding for a while finally free, raining down on your cheeks.

*

Finally ending the fateful night, you arrive in your apartment and cry yourself to sleep. You feel betrayed, you feel dirty, you feel played and used. You do not know what has gotten into you to seriously think you are special to Jungkook, but that’s definitely not the case since he just caught up in the moment and just needed you to wet his dick. After that, you are going to ruin a ten year old friendship just because you can’t keep your feelings in hand like he can’t keep his dick inside his pants. You should’ve seen it coming—but now the damage is done, there is no use of regretting the things you can’t change. Yet ever since that day you can’t even sleep, eat, study, or basically do anything without thinking about him.

Especially since in the morning he left for Busan, he informed you through a message that he will be there for a week, and after that he needs to talk to you. You haven’t even replied, leaving him only on read even if that’s basically what you are thinking about night and day. What is he going to say? Is he going to reject you? Is he going to say how disgusted he is for that night? Is he going to tell you should not be friends anymore? There are countless scenarios playing in your head, and not even one is as what you wish it would be. Just an endless count of rejection and humiliation.

So the night before he is coming back, you are seated coated in your blanket in your apartment, right in front of your TV even though you don’t even know what show is playing. You are just zoning out, racking your brains for reasons that you need to say to Jungkook to avoid meeting him tomorrow. Do you just pretend you are sick? Or can you bail on him? But thinking about Jungkook, waiting alone in a cafe makes you sad and guilty, so you immediately cancel that last option. God, what are you going to do?

Too invested in your thoughts, you do not notice Lia is just in front of you. You finally acknowledge her presence when after she is now waving a plastic of delicious smelling food in front of your face. “Hey, earth to Y/N!” She calls you again, the agitation builds up for the past week of being ignored by her own roommate.

“Honey, seeing you like this makes me sad.” She sighs, resting the plastic on the desk. “I brought offering food, and with this I hope you can finally tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, realizing how annoyed she must be seeing you like this. You have been closed off on her as well, keeping the event from a week ago only for yourself. It just doesn’t feel right talking about it with someone Jungkook admitted he likes… Which suddenly pops an idea inside your brilliant head. God! How can you not think of it before?!

You widely let out an ear-to-ear smile which frankly scares Lia due to the drastic change of mood. But you couldn't care less. You need to do this, to save the remaining pieces of your friendship with Jungkook and give him a helpful hand as well.

“Lia, honey, can you please help me with something?”

*

Jungkook arrives at Gimpo International Airport at 5.40pm, along with his parents and brother. After going back for the wedding of his relatives, every new day he can’t wait to finally be back in Seoul. He is worried as hell about you, since he is aware that he did make a mistake that night—he scares you with his overwhelming feelings, but he promises himself to make things right. He would be crazy to let you go that easily. Jungkook definitely felt something from you that night—there is a glimpse of hope that you somehow like him too, and now he is helplessly hanging on to that rope.

After telling you he needed to see you after he got back, you left him on read for a few days and he had to confess that he was so moody and off during those days, constantly pissing everyone around him. But how can he not? He thought he lost his chance. What if Seokjin took those days to convince you how much better of a man he is than him? What if you had enough of him and dump his ass? Or worse, what if you think you can no longer even be friends? Those thoughts constantly bothered him, but when you message time and place to meet him, he feels comforted. He trusted you—you are much better of a person than what his pessimistic mind forced him to believe.

So when his flight arrives, he directly goes to take the train instead of going with his family’s car, heading to the restaurant you informed. As you informed him about the dinner—7pm reservation, he carefully calculated his ETA. Jungkook is a bit confused due to your choice of place—you don’t really fancy Mexican food, but he pays no heed as what he can only focus is what he is about to say and the gift he thought thoroughly and carefully before, secured on his backpack. Jungkook silently smiles. He is going to make this right.

Exactly an hour arrival, he is now in the area of the restaurant. He quickly hitch a taxi, asking the driver to drive as fast as he can since his plan was to arrive first before you. The hope grows dimmer as seconds pass, especially when his taxi is caught in the middle of a traffic jam. Jungkook groans, there is no hesitation that he will be late. He quickly send you an apology by text, in which you do not even read—adding more anxiety to his already existing one.

After a few minutes which passes like a thousand years, he finally arrives in the said restaurant. He slaps a few bills at the driver, not even waiting for a change as he runs inside, nervously tapping his foot after mentioning your name as a reservation. His heart is beating fast, his palms turn clammy, and he feels jittery all over his body. God, the feeling has already been too long to even remember. But he can’t deny that it indeed feels nice. It feels amazing to care and have real emotions this deeply about someone.

Instead of finding the face he has been thinking of night and days, he finds a completely different woman, sitting nervously on the table. He is too overwhelmed to even speak.

“You—What are you doing here?!”

Jungkook can’t even believe his eyes. It’s Lia, your best friend, sitting on the table right now. All at once, his head spins followed by a sudden nausea bubbling up his throat from the great shock. He has been expecting you—to see your face again waiting for him with a smile, to tell you how much you mean to him, to finally confess and give him a gift he carefully picks out for you—but instead you set him up for dinner with your best friend, without letting either of them know. He feels rejected, a wave of sadness crashing at him that he can only weakly sit down, his legs nearly giving him up. He is now mourning on so-selfless yet so idiotic action you do him.

“God, Y/N asked me for dinner together, and he actually set me up with you? What the fuck?!” Lia flares angrily, taking her phone and fervently dialing up your number. Seeing how ugly it can get, Jungkook takes the phone away, closing the call. “What are you doing?!” She hisses.

“I.. I accidentally lied to her that I like you instead of her when she caught us meeting that morning.” Jungkook whispers, his throat too dry for catching up in the sadness. “And now she is setting us up together.”

“God, it all makes sense now! She actually asked me how I feel about you, and knowing you like her, I put good words. Could it be that she thinks I like you too?” She gasps, but Jungkook is already too numb in the feeling. “God, she is such a moron sometimes!”

“That’s okay. It’s just clear now. I know she does not have any feelings for me, and she might be too afraid to say so. She is probably already with Seokjin now.” Jungkook bitterly whispers, trying to uphold his voice yet it still wound him so fucking bad. Of course that is it. Seokjin is a whole perfect package for a man, not a child with zero emotional capacity like him. He must be drunk to even think about competing with that man.

“No, that's not it..” Lia shakes her head fervently at Jungkook’s helpless posture. “I believe she broke up whatever relationship she had with Seokjin. Don’t tell her you know this from me, but they kinda did it in our apartment hallways a few days ago and I accidentally—well not really accidental but that’s not the point—heard! I thought she was extremely quiet and sad because of that!”

He is confused, he really is, but now he knows the fact, there must be something he has not known yet. “Are you sure?” Jungkook rises up to his seat, strangely motivated. Not that he wants to take advantage of your odd break up with Seokjin for his personal advantage, he just wants to be there for you — like what best friends would do.

“Are you okay if I leave you now?” Jungkook kindly asks, and Lia shoo him away boredly, eyes already skimming on the menu.

“Don’t need no boys helping me eat, but you owe me a lot after this, bro. You get it?” With a nod of confirmation and a short smile, Jungkook quickly heads to the place he knew he would find you.

*

You don’t even know what you are doing, seated in the usual coffee shop you always visit with Jungkook. You have been sitting in the cafe for nearly two hours, munching on the countless foods you order from the menu, yet you can’t hold back the obnoxious, ugly feeling in your chest — especially when the barista is asking where Jungkook is when you ordered your usual. It’s literally on you—you were the one setting up both your best friends who greatly deserve and like each other together, so why is it so painful to face the possibility that they are having a nice date in her favorite Mexican restaurant right now?

Great. Now you are crying. God, you must look hideous, no make up, alone with plates of food in front of you. You can’t even imagine what people must be thinking about you right now, since even you are disgusted with yourself.

“I better go home.” You sigh, ready to pick the bill when a soft bell tingling is heard and you do not know whether you can believe your eyes or not, but it signals Jungkook’s entrance. He is wearing a dark blue sweater you bought him for his birthday a year ago, walking pensively to your table. Just looking at him immediately quickens your heartbeat, too loud you can distinctly hear it rings in your ear. What is happening? Why is he here, not more than an hour in the date? That look—Is he mad at you?

“Y/N, before I am going to be angry at you for setting me up with your best friend, I want to hit pause. Okay?” He calmly speaks, resting his bag on the floor. You look at him with teary eyes, still shocked for only his presence so you hesitantly nod. 

“Are you okay? After Seokjin, I mean. I heard about it.” Jungkook whispers, trying for a slow approach to the said matter. You don’t even know how he knows, yet you don’t really care.  “I’m sorry.”

You finally gather your courage to let out your voice, eyes still training on your lap. “Don’t be. It’s hard, but I’m okay. We just realize it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you want a hug?” Jungkook good-naturedly offers like it's the most usual thing to do inside a coffeeshop, and you can’t hold the chuckle which he follows. “We always hug it out whenever we are sad. I don’t know about you, but it always works for me. Your hugs are the best.”

You know he probably does not imply anything, so you nod, because you are desperately in need of your best friend’s hug right now. When everything is hard, it feels nice to have someone who completely understands and is willing to listen, instead of telling you what you need to do. That’s the kind of friendship you have with him, and you are thankful neither of you has given up on each other even with the constant fights.

After a good ten minutes just having each other close in a hug—his arms secured around your shoulder while you lean your head on his annoyingly sturdy chest—you let your best friend go. “God, we must be looking like two moron right now.” You whisper, noticing a few glances are thrown at your table and Jungkook snickers, agreeing with your comment. You snort. “More like because you look like a fucking idol and I look a hobo. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Hey, I just arrived from Busan and I directly come here without even changing.” He pouts and you chuckle, feeling the butterflies vividly knocking on your stomach. He helps you asking for the bill, and when it arrives, he directly gives the waiter his card and you angrily shove him away.

“Jungkook, if you pay for the food you don’t even touch, I swear to god—”

“But it's my turn to pay!” He protests and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not, because you did not even eat a thing.”

He quickly munch on the leftover fries, giving the waiter his card and pushing the confused man away before you can snatch the card back. You hiss, seriously feeling guilty for letting him pay for the whole thing. “God, I am starving! Can I eat this?” He asks, munching on your half eaten pasta without waiting for you. You just stare at him, happily eating your food and you can’t hold down the smile.

“Can I have this coffee too?” He politely asks, pointing at your black coffee and you sigh. 

“Jungkook, once again I tell you, you do not like black coffee. I’ll just order you anything.” You are about to call the waiter again when he holds you back.

“I like everything you like, Y/N. I think this goddamn coffee has grown on me.”

But he is completely bullshitting you—and probably himself because as his lips touch the glass to take a sip, he instinctively grimaces at the strong, bitter taste. Gosh, an idiot and somehow you still call him your best friend.

“Jungkook, do you want me to order you a banana milkshake?” You kindly offer like the coffee thing did just not happen, and he answers with a 1000 watt smile that leaves you strangely speechless.

“My hero.”

After exactly another hour talking about the cousin’s wedding he attended a few days ago, both of you and him exit the coffeeshop. You can’t hide your blush when the barista is secretly teasing you with his goddamn eyebrow, not that Jungkook can notice. God, you wish he doesn’t notice.

“Can we walk to your apartment? Are you okay? it’s a little bit cold.” Jungkook worriedly asks, and you nod as an agreement. He smiles serenely at you, his hand runs to fix your messy hair—courtesy of the wind. His fingers delicately put a strand of lost hair to the back of your ear, and smile with all his bunny teeth on display after being satisfied with the result. God, you wish he would not notice how nervous you are right now.

During the short walk filled with comfortable silence, he reaches your hand, tightly intertwining it with his fingers. All the things he does are not special—you nearly do it every time in your so-called platonic friendship, but everything definitely has changed. But the fuzzy feeling quickly turns into nerves when you sense the inevitable talk is coming, as he points to one of the benches in front of your apartment building.

“I am angry at you.”

You look up to him, expecting anger on his face when you found none, instead a thin smile. “You set me up with your best friend. What were you thinking, Y/N?”

“You said you liked her. And I know you need a push to finally do something about it, that’s why I did it.” You guiltily try to defend yourself. Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling remorse of what the conversation will turn into.

“But.. I don’t know whether we want to discuss this, but here goes—we kissed that night, Y/N. Does it even mean anything to you?” 

And now it is there. The hurt, the frustration, the anger shown on his beautiful doe eyes. You know it is coming — the inevitable confrontation about that night. But how can he even ask such question to you? Doesn’t he know it nearly keeps you awake every night?

“You were drunk, Jungkook. And horny... I was—we were just caught up in the moment.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I don’t know about you, but I was not just caught up in the moment.” Jungkook curtly answers, taking a deep breath of courage. He hopes he doesn’t mess up everything and end up chasing you away yet again.

“Can’t you see it, Y/N? I like you. I like you so much for how it seems like a long time ago, but idiot me, somehow I just realize everything now.”

At his answer, your head feels like it is about to explode. But you are too scared, too realistic to even think about the possibility that he may truly mean every word. “You can’t lie to me like that, Jungkook! I am not the girl you can play with like your one night stands. I do not want to be just another number to you.”

“But you're not just another number to me!” He agitatedly hisses, letting his emotions open up on the table. “You think it doesn’t kill me? I think about it nearly everyday. I think about you and Seokjin. I think about you rejecting me. I think about you and our ten years friendship currently on the line. Do you think it has been just a walk in the park for me?”

He takes a deep breath. “I like you, Y/N. I like you so much it kills me for you to close me off that night we kissed. I thought everything was clear—my obvious feelings for you, but just now, you set me up with your best friend. How fucking great!”

The tears welling in your eyes are forcing to come out. “You don’t know how afraid I was, Jungkook. You can’t even imagine how it was for me! I like kissing you—I think I like it a little bit too much—but when you said you wanted to fuck in the car, I felt… I felt disgusted. You were drunk, and I felt like you were just using me for my body, like I’m just another dumb girls who you’ll fuck and never call back. I.. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

The statement you let out just brings a whole new guilt on his chest, and he moves to hold you close. “What were you thinking, Y/N. I would never do that to you…”

“How can I think of that? Are you shitting me right now? Jungkook, you slept with at least three girls a week, and you explicitly told me about fucking these girl nearly everyday before. So you expect me to comply and fuck you in that car, ruining our friendship because you only want to fuck me and wet your dick?!”

“Y/N, I swear it is not that. I like you too much, and I got so jealous of Seokjin—I am sorry that I make you feel that way. But I swear to god, at that time I just wanted to show you how much I like you, and I am sorry if it came out that way.”

You take a deep breath, but even doing it suffocates you. “I just need some time. That’s it. Can we… can we just pretend this never happens?” You sigh tiredly, and at your word, Jungkook feels hit with a ton of brick until he is completely numb. You want to disregard everything that happened?

“I am heading upstairs. You.. you can just head home now.” You whisper, and every word coming out hurts you back like it hurts him, but you need this. You need some time to think about everything. You don’t want to hurt yourself again—just seeing him now hurts so fucking bad already. Jungkook is not emotionally ready for you. He just caught up in the moment of drunkenness, and he doesn’t mean it. You should just stop thinking about it.

You are about to leave to cry your eyes to sleep, when you heard him call from behind.

“Here. I bought this for you. Don’t worry, Y/N.  I’ll leave.”

And you can hear the steps of his boots, walking far and far away until it disappears in the  silence. Now that he is not here, you find the wind is ten times colder, and the pain in your chest multiplies a thousand times. It’s only you now, alone with your thoughts. You brave yourself to turn back, seeing a box of chocolate resting on the bench, which then leaves you a crying mess.

It’s the exact chocolate he gave ten years ago to the girls, the one you ate when you saved him from the humiliation he faced. How could he even get this?

To : Y/N

Thank you for saving me again that day. And the day after. And the day after, until today. I owe you my life :)

With love, your vermillion faced favorite person in the world.

Jeon Jungkook.

*

Another week passes, and Jungkook wakes up with a groan inside of his room he shared with Taehyung. God was he trashed last night. His frat was having another party, and he may or may not steal a few bottles and decided to trash himself whilst playing Overwatch—he can’t even remember when or how. His back is killing him for falling asleep with bent back, his face plastered on the keyboard.

He tries to straighten up, but the dizziness from suddenly standing up washes him away that it takes some time to get used to. His lips are as dry as sahara, yet he found no bottle of water that may relieve the thirst—seriously, Jungkook? Stealing two bottles of vodka but forgot to bring up a bottle of water? God he is a moron sometimes.

He walks out of the room, descending to the downstairs with his head still banging painfully due to the bad hangover. He is about to head directly straight to the kitchen, but his steps are paused when he finds Seokjin currently having his breakfast on the table, with… you.

The first thought that comes to his mind is how different you look—you look pale and tired, the dark eyebags are getting prominent and it does look like you haven’t been sleeping well. The thoughts finally come closing when he realizes how awkward the air has become, you, Seokjin and himself on such close distance. Jungkook can’t bear the bitter thoughts of you, having your usual breakfast with Seokjin. God, he must be a bother—so he quickly enters the kitchen, intends to grab a drink and forces himself out of the picture.

“Jung—Jungkook, can we talk? Outside, I mean. I want to tell you something.”

He looks back, not expecting to find you standing up and walking to him to the kitchen. 

“We can. Do we need Seokjin to join as well?” He bitterly shoves the water inside his throat, not even minding how petty he must have sounded. 

“No. No need. I need to talk to you alone.” You beg, internally praying that Jungkook will not make it harder than it already is. All you want to do is say what you needed to say, then run away and bury yourself alive beside the nearest tree. 

Jungkook hums, and follows your hesitant step to the backyard of his frat house. But now that he is seeing you in such close distance, makes him realize that he terribly misses seeing you and talking to you. The week after the confession he let out, he decides to give you the space you deserve—no matter how desperate he is to just send you a message and ask how you’re doing. He can’t even deny that he went to your faculty a few times before, wanting to just see how you are doing even from afar. He knows how cringey and creepy that thought is, but he seriously can’t stand the idea of not having to see your face during those times. Checking up on you is like something he has been doing for ten years now, and he doesn’t intend to stop just because you need your own space.

Now you are standing with him, yet he thoughtfully motion so you can sit on the patio wall. The first touch he gave you since the last encounter, and it successfully turns you ten times nervous than you already are. Will you even be able to say what you need to say when he is right there, looking at you like that?

“Before you say anything, can I ask why are you having breakfast with Seokjin?” He starts, somehow unable to disregard the scene he just witnesses. He doesn’t know why, but he feels somehow sad and anxious that you are spending such an intimate breakfast with him. Sensing that Jungkook is indeed dead serious, and so are you, you decide not to beat around the bush and answer him with the truth.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to see you and he was there, having his breakfast. He was just being polite.” 

“Jungkook, I want to say I am sorry.” You whisper directly and cut to the chase, intending to look him in the eyes but still failing to do so. All because you are nothing but a nervous pile of mess. “I.. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t set you up with Lia just because of my insecurities. I thought I was doing you some good, but that was my fault to overstep it. And I shouldn’t have been angry at the thoughts that you were just playing with me—it’s only in my head and I accused you for it. It’s so unfair for you, I.. I want to apologize.”

Both of you fall into deep and tense silence, waiting for the other to speak up. But falling too uncomfortable with the silence, you decide to open your voice again. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you still angry at me?”

“Shouldn’t you apologize for one more thing?” Jungkook calmly asks, basking in your appearance once again like it’s never enough. God, are you even eating well? You hesitantly look up, confused with his words. What does he mean by that?

“The way you expect us to forget everything happened.” He winces soundly just by saying the word he refuses to acknowledge since the moment he heard it. Just thinking about the word you said a few nights back still brings fresh pain inside his chest. “That’s actually what hurts me the most. I don’t really care about the other.” You bit your lower lips. Is it just your hallucination or Jungkook seriously asking that?

Jungkook racks his brain, trying to articulate his thoughts yet failing to do so. Then he gives up, letting his heart do the talking instead. “I like you, Y/N. I don’t want to scare you—but I might even be in love with you. These past few years are so clear now. I like you, I always have feelings for you but it was so clouded with any friendly, somehow platonic feelings I thought I have and I don’t know—what happened with us just awakened me, making me realize  that I don’t want anyone else but me to be the one taking care of you.”

The newfound sincerity in his words astonishes you. Your breath hitches, with his words coming in and out of your mind, yet it still feels unsettled. Does he really mean it? 

“I guess I was just too busy with myself, with my own ways of hiding the pain I felt. But I realize, it was not any parties, or meaningless sex or any other things that makes me happy. I thought it was, but it’s not.” Jungkook takes your chin, pleading for you to look up to him. You are too overwhelmed by emotion, and you are thankful he asked you to sit because if you weren’t, your leg would give you away.

“It’s you. It’s always you.” He proclaims, as clear as the sky upon him. “It’s breakfast with you, talking with you everyday, seeing you be happy and be the one causing it. That’s what makes me happy.”

At such sentiment, the tears swimming in the corner of your eyes finally falls, streaming on the side of your cheek. He quickly pulls you close, his head entangles on your hair and your hands basked on his waist tightly, like you are holding it for dear life.  “Jungkook, I am scared. I don’t want to lose you... What if everything goes wrong and then I lost you forever?”

Jungkook kisses the top of your head. God, he is scared beyond words too. But he loves you too much, he believes in what you both have and is ready to take his chances. “We’ll make it through. I can’t promise you much, but I promise I’ll always look out for our best interests. You won’t lose me. I am your best friend before anything, Y/N.”

You nod, somehow assured by his words. You know it’s going to be hard to believe—even your past self would too, but you trust him with all your heart. Jungkook has been one constant thing in your life, and you trust him and are willing to put everything on the line because frankly, you love him, and he loves you. Maybe it’s time to finally be brave enough to face anything and take that risk. Only because it is him.

Another moment of holding each other close when Jungkook fucking opened his mouth and decided to ruin everything. “So.. Can I kiss you now?” He jokingly whispers and you snort, all sappy moments crumbling down to ashes. An amused chuckle somehow did escape your lips, and he pouts. “Hey, let me kiss you, you pretty girl. Seriously, I kissed you once, and god, that’s all I can think of this past week.”

You roll your eyes, heart beating rapidly fast in your chest. You are going to shrug his face away from you, but the moment you can clearly look up to him, you feel warm and giddy. His face is saying everything, shaded vermillion red while shyly looking down on you. A flashback comes inside your head, reminding you about the eleven year old kid with the same shade of vermillion on his face. He is still the same Jungkook you know—the Jungkook you love and wouldn’t trade for anything in the whole world.

His lips advance closer to yours yet you are the one to close the distance between. To have your lips finally touch against his chapped one, you can feel the same firework lights up, only ten times better now that you finally is truthful to your own feeling. God does it feel amazing to feel it to have him against your lips. Both of you are too content with even such innocent kisses, feeling the smile forming in each of your lips, inevitably bringing up a laughter.

“Fucking finally!”

At the loud roar, you quickly push Jungkook until he falls a few steps back, completely shocked beyond words to hear the shouts behind you—which belongs to Taehyung, somehow with Lia shutting him instantly on the mouth. There are few other frat brothers like Jimin and Namjoon as well, smiling meaningfully in front of the door. You shyly duck your head, god, how long have they been standing there? This is embarrassing!

“Are you going to hit them or should I?” You whisper, walking outside from the back door with Jungkook on your side, escaping the loud shouts and woo from the people standing there. Jungkook chuckles with mirth at your reddened abashed face. Is it a good time for him to say how adorable you are right now, with a burst of red coloring your cheek?

“No worries, I will.” He kisses your supple cheek. “But objectively speaking, I do think Lia has rights for that. She is the one helping me to get you since god-knows-when.” Jungkook smiles endearingly, holding you close around the shoulder when it’s finally just the two of you, brushing a kiss on the top of your head. You chuckle knowingly, and Jungkook stops to see you straight on the eye.

“Aren’t you going to ask me when, why or how? I mean about the chasing you thing with Lia.” He asks seriously, yet apparently can’t get his hands far from you as he reaches for your cheek, softly brushing it delicately with his fingers. You hum, somehow content with his touches. God, you sure like him so much it hurts.

“Baby—you’re cute. But actually it’s Lia who convinces me about you.” You chuckle, and Jungkook scrunch his eyebrows, yet still falling shy at the nickname that sounds entirely different now that you are the one saying it to him. “She told me everything. And that’s actually when I realize that I can trust you. With all my heart.”

Jungkook smiles, heart turning warm from your statement and still, the endearing nickname. “On the light note, you called me your baby. Ugh, can I kiss you again, pumpkin?” He cheekily asks, and your hearts light up at the familiar yet so strange nickname that now it feels different to have him as your lover.

You smirks, holding his palm against your cheek, taking in his disheveled, morning appearance once again. He looks extensively cute with his button nose and reddened cheeks, his disheveled morning hair still super inviting to have your fingers running through it. And it is unfair that somehow he looks his best now, better than anything you have seen him before. High chance it is because for you, the best thing for Jungkook to wear is his smile—especially when it’s because of you.

“Not if you have to ask again every time you don’t.”

He smirks and pulls you by the nape, muttering an answer against your smiling lips. He seriously wouldn’t mind doing this every second of the day.

“Deal.”

========

Finally! nearing 25k, wow this is a lot to write. But it was so much fun and i hope you like it! let me know and lets talk :) kindly check my masterlist !

UPDATE #1 : Drabble posted on masterlist! Do check lovelies! <3

UPDATE #2 : Find the Taehyung spinoff, “The Platinum Rules” click here!