#like i have seen some GODAWFUL takes yeah but i can’t believe

[party-gilmore]

“The Hypocritical West Didn’t Care About Palestine When Israel Was The Perpetrator But Now That Palestine-“

WE DID CARE!!! WE DID!! WEVE BEEN RAGING ABOUT THIS FOR FUCKING YEARS!!!!

JEWS HERE HAVE BEEN CALLING FOR PEOPLE TO TURN ATTENTION AND RECOGNITION THAT ITS ATROCIOUS FOR AGES!!!! URGING THEM TO CONDEMN THE ACTIONS AND STEP IN!! KNOWING SHIT WASNT GONNA CHANGE CUZ THEH HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY INVESTED IN ISRAEL AND WARNING THAT IT WAS GOING TO TURN INTO THIS KIND OF EVEN WORSE PRESSURE COOKER!!!

BUT THAT DOESNT FIT Y’ALLS OUTRAGE NARRATIVE SO NOW THAT SHIT’S ESCALATING AND GOING MAINSTREAM Y’ALL WANNA ACT LIKE WE’RE SUDDENLY BACKPEDALLING AND ONLY NOW “PRETENDING” TO CARE ABOUT CIVILLIANS IN THE CROSSFIRE!!!

You’re just seeing it MORE because now escalation, retaliatory escalation, is IMMINENT, and we have NO idea how far and how severe that is going to affect us on a global level - political and social and financial - and the fear is getting LOUDER.

[thenonbinarydetective]

Why are there more nancy drew film adaptations than hb adaptations? Is it because nd mystery are more fun and not edgy?

No not at all. Really in the grand scheme of things, the Hardy’s are about as edgy as a pillow pet. And attempt to be edgy haven’t stopped some Nancy Drew adaptations, and I’m not just talking about that godawful cw show

Honestly one of the simplest answers I can give that has leeway into the minds of the people making decisions, can’t find the market for it. At least nowadays, technically they’ve gotten tv films but they’re all before like 1970 and buried.

But anyway, yeah it’s the elusive market. Not to sound like someone who complains about “DEI” Chin, but Nancy has a leg up with being a female character. People believe that there is an audience right there, immediately. Weirdly enough because media can be so male-catered, it can be difficult to convince people what boys are going to be into. I love the hardy boys and I know plenty of boys still do but if you have projected massive toy sales with Transformers or Godzilla or something is it really gonna be the same as two teenage boy detectives whose primary audiences is kids who don’t spend any money because their parents already have the books. Nowadays from their grandparents as well.

I genuinely just don’t think anyone has come up with an idea that can usually compete. We may not have Nancy Drew dolls or whatever, but we can very easily get “girl power” marketing. I’ve seen the marketing for all Nancy Drew movies (tv or otherwise), it’s a lot of that.

Attempts to make hardy boys movies have been made. Some even with theatrical releases, but more interesting projects cause them to get canceled. And thank god cause some of them suck

Funnily enough, they might actually have more luck in the publishing world. There’s actually a few Nancy things that have been canceled before they reached the numbers the hardy boys did. And it’s not just that the boys were published first. Like the hardy boys comics actually did better than Nancy’s. And I think Casefiles was better than Files. No surprise there ngl.

But really im not a market, media, or movie expert. So dont take my word for it

[pascalpanic]

"You made these cupcakes for me?" With Marcus Pike. Because giving people baked goods is a perk of knowing me 😃

Cupcake (Marcus Pike x Reader)

summary: you’re having a bad day. your boyfriend, Marcus Pike, will not allow his cupcake to feel so shitty.

warnings: like, a single use of fuck. reader’s just having a bad day. some tears, mentions of food. tooth-decaying fluff. 

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: this shit hurts my heart bc it’s so soft. I just want Marcus Pike to call me cupcake is that too much to ask?? Mandy this prompt was so cute I’m so glad u requested it ✨🥰🧁

Marcus Pike is the perfect boyfriend, you have to admit. Not a day goes by without some kind gesture from the man you love, whether that’s a phone call just to hear your voice or a bouquet of flowers waiting for you in your apartment when you came home from work.

Not only is the man wonderful at gestures, but he’s nearly sickeningly affectionate. Marcus loves to hug you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and murmuring affirmations of his love. He’s got lots of nicknames for you: babe, baby, lover, cutie, and his personal favorite- cupcake.

It’s been a few months that you’ve been dating Marcus now, and every moment around him is nearly perfect. The issue arises, then, when you’re apart. Marcus is a busy man, especially with his job as head of the Art Crimes Department of the literal FBI. You’re busy too, with a full-time job and an apartment completely on the opposite side of DC. 

Work today was a total pain in the ass. Marcus may be busy, but he always finds time to answer your calls. It’s a pact the two of you had made- if the other calls, you pick up. Both of you are often in need of reassurance and a little love from the other. That’s what prompts you to step into the bathroom with your cell phone halfway through a godawful day. You call him at his desk line, knowing the caller ID will display your name.

The phone rings twice before Marcus picks up. “Hey Cupcake,” he hums happily. “How’s your day going?”

“Bad,” you sniffle as you lock yourself in a stall. 

His heart breaks at the tone in your voice. “Oh, honey.” You can hear the frown on his face. “What’s wrong? Tell me all about it.”

He’s so kind. So perfect. “I don’t deserve you,” you whimper before the tears start running down your face, a broken sob choking out from your throat.

“No, no, baby,” he assures. “Just tell me about your day. Talk to me, love.”

You nod and swallow hard, trying to compose your voice. “My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I woke up late and rushed to work. My boss was already pissed so she chewed me out. There’s an important document she needed me to sign and I spilled my coffee on it,” you mumble, pulling yourself tight against the corner of the stall. “Now I’ve been working and it feels like all my coworkers know that I’m the reason Marcy is mad,” you admit, “even though they probably don’t and I’m probably just overreacting.”

“It’s all okay, baby,” he assures you, his mellow voice like music through the tinny speaker of your phone. “It’s all gonna be alright. Marcy can’t be that mad.”

“I don’t even know. I haven’t seen her since I asked her for another copy of the document, since it was covered in a fucking mocha.”

He gives a soft chuckle. “Aw, I’m sorry babe. What’s the rest of the day look like?” He asks.

“Nothing interesting or good. Just more work, and then we have a quick meeting before we leave. Are you working late tonight?” 

A plan formulates in Marcus’s mind. He knows right now you won’t like it, but it’ll bring you lots of happiness later. “Yeah, I am,” he bluffs convincingly. 

You believe it, pouting a little. “Damn.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, honey. Listen, I promise I’ll make it up to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you craving anything?” He asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Something sweet sounds nice, but not now.”

“Are you sure? I’ll Doordash something to your office for you.”

You finally give a smile. “No, that’s okay, babe. Head back to work. I love you.”

“I love you too, Cupcake. Keep your head up.” He hangs up.

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall of the stall. Today is only going to get better, even if you don’t know it yet.

-

The rest of the work day passes by in a grueling and slow manner. Every little task seems to take hours, even if it’s only two minutes. It’s tiring.

All you really want is Marcus. For him to wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you everything is going to be alright, because for some reason it’s always true when he says it. But he’s working, you know that. You sigh as you take the subway home from work, nearly falling asleep on the surprisingly quiet train. 

When you get home, you sigh and unlock the door to your apartment. You kick off your shoes only to notice another pair, a pair that’s most definitely not yours. They’re bigger than your feet are- “Marcus?” You call out into the apartment.

“Yeah, baby,” he shouts back, and your tired expression turns into a grin. 

“I thought you were supposed to be working late tonight!” You say, your entire body perking up. 

“Lisbon covered for me,” he says as he walks out of your kitchen, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Go get into some cozy clothes and meet me in here, alright?” He orders gently as he looks at how tired your eyes are.

You nod and obey, trudging off to your room and changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. The weight of the day seems lifted from your shoulders, or at least considerably lightened. You walk back to the kitchen and gasp as you see what’s waiting for you.

The table is set for dinner, but in the middle is a lit candle (your favorite scent), and a tray of messy-looking cupcakes. “You said you wanted something sweet,” he says with a shy grin, pulling out a chair for you.

“You made these cupcakes for me?” You ask, eyes watering and lower lip sticking out in a pout. 

Marcus nods. “They’re really ugly, I know. I didn’t have anything good to put the frosting on there with, and honestly the sprinkles might be expired, but-”

You cut Marcus off by cupping his face and kissing him gently, the corners of your lips tugged up in a smile. You break away and throw your arms around him. He’s beautifully built, clearly muscular but slightly soft and the best for hugs. “Thank you, Marcus,” you murmur as the tears spill from your eyes and into his t-shirt.

“Anything for you, Cupcake.” -

Hope you enjoyed!

pls note my requests are open at any time!! you can always just send me a line you like and a character, doesn’t have to be from a specific prompt list or anything!!

[kitkatopinions]

The amount of biphobia in the RWBY fandom is frankly staggering.

Honestly, yeah. I don't go into the main RWBY tags anymore for a number of reasons, including the godawful takes, lots of ableism or just uncomfortable red flags, the intense amount of worship directed to the mains and towards MKEK, the amount of bee shippers when I don't vibe with the bees, and the oversexualization of literally any woman character. But on top of all that, there was a lot of biphobia. Not long into my time in the fandom, I heard both "Blake is a canon lesbian and if you ship her with a man, you're a homophobe," and "Bumbleby is a non-existent ship and fans are just reading into things and then attacking the writers for queerbaiting because they're not doing what they want.' I heard both "I can't believe the writers are pretending Blake isn't straight when we all saw her be attracted to Sun," and "I can't believe people are pretending Blake was ever attracted to Sun when Bumbleby is clearly superior." I saw both "If you read anything into Qrow and Clover or Qrow and James, you're an idiot," and also "Guys, stop talking about your 'straight' Qrow ships, the man is a bi icon."

Yes, I've literally seen people say Blake or Qrow are bi, and then condemn people for shipping them with someone of the opposite sex or even talking about their possible feelings towards people of the opposite sex.

And meanwhile, Yang and Weiss are widely regarded as lesbians and people who headcanon them as anything different are sometimes shamed, while both of them have expressed attraction towards the opposite sex. And meanwhile, many other characters are being assigned 'straight' just because they've flirted with the opposite sex. "James was established as hetero the moment he arrived on screen," for instance, or people acting like Qrow flirting with Winter in V3 means he was definitely straight, or people acting like Ren and Nora couldn't possibly ever date someone of the same sex as them despite breaking up because "why can't we have one straight ship?" (Btw, if I was writing this on my phone, I'd use the vomit emoji to show how I feel about that last one.) Also bi isn't the only other option either. Characters can be asexual or pansexual or aro or demisexual. Characters aren't confined to heterosexual or homosexual, but they're also not confined to heterosexual or homosexual or bisexual. Also, people acting like everyone is cisgendered except the Happy Huntresses just because we've never had it confirmed otherwise is also a thing. Like, there's a number of characters who I could see as trans, non-binary, or genderqueer.

Some people don't even realize that's how they're acting or that's how their wording comes across. And I get that how the story writers present these characters plays a big part in their perception. For example, the first three seasons are written with a heteronormative lens that seemed to portray everyone as straight, and that's the status quo in today's society anyway. It's much easier for people to see Yang as queer than it is for them to think of Nora that way, and it's easier to say Yang has always been a lesbian than it is to admit that the writers likely didn't actually plan the bees from the beginning and are lying about it... Idk, I'm trying to be understanding towards it, while at the same time acknowledging that I do feel like this exclusionary language and 'either straight or homosexual' mentality I've seen has been a bit upsetting. Especially when it's used against people who are just making headcanons, or just shipping something that makes them happy, or are just angry at being queerbaited, and expecting MKEK to follow through on the 'support' they claimed they were giving while they were selling pride merch with Team RWBY plastered on it.

Long post short, I think the mindset of 'if they express attraction towards one gender, they're canonly only attracted to that gender' needs to die. And in the RWBY community specifically, making passive aggressive posts or going into people's comments or ask boxes to tell them they're shipping wrong because they have a different headcanon or want a different ship that doesn't fit the sexuality other people assigned a character... That really needs to die, too.

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {1}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 26.3k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

.

.

The clock on the other side of the wall keeps ticking, each second driving you closer to madness over the insistent sound.

You click your pen open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed.

And yet you still have no freaking clue on how to begin this godawful novel.

Godawful as in the mere effort it takes for it to come to life is starting to make you want to flick yourself off from a window.

Like, god, you’ve been staring at an empty piece of paper for almost two hours now, your coffee’s gone cold.

And yeah you write in paper. No laptop, no typewriter, just you, your pen and a currently empty piece of paper. It seems more direct, more intimate this way. Put you in front of a blank screen and your brain will surely follow it.

Although, today it doesn’t seem like you have much luck with paper either.

With a tired sigh, you rest your mighty pen on your desk, taking out your noise-cancelling earbuds and stand up from your chair.

You stretch out your limbs, your back already killing you from hunching over your desk for two hours now and you trudge over to the living room where the rest of your friends are having a movie night.

“Guys, the old crone decided to join us…” Hoseok comments from his side of the small couch as you drag your feet to your designated spot beside Jimin on the big couch.

“Quick, hide your popcorn, and hide your jelly beans!” Seokjin joins in on the mocking as Jimin scans through Netflix for a decent movie none of you has seen yet.

You know you’ll end up watching Dirty Dancing again because the chances of finding a movie none of you has seen yet are nearly non-existent.

 “Ha, ha, your superior sense of humour is astounding…” you mumble as you sit cross-legged on the couch and Ana turns to you from her spot next to Hoseok.

“No luck with the novel still huh?” her eyes are looking at you sympathetically and you grumble a response, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’ll come to you eventually,” Seokjin says, stretching his hand from his armchair to your right to nudge your knee and you let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs once he retracts it.

Jimin gives you a side glance before his eyes return to the screen. “Yeah, until she gets a different idea and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Hey!” you lightly punch your best friend in the ribs, earning a groan from him, “I just have to find a way to start this bloody thing and then it’ll turn out to be the greatest book in the century, you’ll see!” you defend your cause, eyes wide and challenging on Jimin who simply smiles at you with a winning smirk.

“That’s more like it…” he replies, the glint in his eyes your only hint giving away the intention behind his words and again you groan. Refusing to let the smile on your lips appear.

“I hate you when you do that…” you mumble, a small note of fondness only Jimin can distinguish, hiding in your voice as he finally picks his choice of a film with a smile hanging from his lips.

“Shh, the movie’s starting!” Ana interrupts everyone when -surprise surprise- Dirty Dancing starts playing. All of you have a certain liking towards the movie- I mean what’s not to like? Summer romance? Patrick Swayze with half-open shirts? Heated dancing? With Patrick Swayze?- but you can say for certain Ana takes the cake as a Dirty Dancing fan.

“How can you still be this much excited for this movie?” Hoseok comments from beside her and even though he sounds judgey there’s only lovesick fondness in his eyes when he looks at Ana.

Although when Ana turns to look at her boyfriend, she looks completely serious. “Keep this up and no sex for a month. We don’t condone this kind of behaviour in this house.”

You and Jimin try to suppress your giggles as Hoseok’s eyes widen in fear. “You can’t do that, what about you?!”

Ana simply smiles back with too much sweetness. “My hands aren’t just good for making you cum, babe.”

Disgusted protests come from the rest of the group as you’re sure you won’t ever be able to unhear this.

“Why, why did we have to hear that?” Jimin complains as Seokjin makes a gagging sound next to him.

Hoseok just smiles. “Oh, come on Jimin, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy tapping this hot piece of ass!” and another round of puking sounds emerges in the room.

Truth is Ana didn’t date Hoseok in the beginning. In reality, she got added to your group only after she started going out with Jimin in the second year of college. And even though she and Jimin didn’t work out in the end, she had already become an essential part of your group and they even remained great friends after the breakup.

Not long after that Hoseok asked her out. And you swear no couple ever made more sense than those two. Although you really hate when they get down and dirty in Hoseok’s room which is right next to yours.

You first started living with Hoseok and Jimin in the first year of college, five years ago. Jimin was a guy you barely knew from high school but he was the greatest of options you had when looking to share an apartment with someone. You didn’t want to live in a dorm but it wasn’t like your parents were rich or something, so there was no way for them to afford an apartment just for you. So looking for a roommate was the best solution.

Hoseok came a little bit afterwards. You and he shared a class and you became friends fairly quickly. So when he told you the situation at his dorm was unbearable, you couldn’t help but think of the empty bedroom in your apartment. And the rest is history.

Seokjin became a part of your group only months before Ana did. He and Jimin worked at the same part-time job as waiters in a local restaurant. And while Seokjin went forward to run his own restaurant and Jimin followed his passion as a dance instructor their friendship persevered. So it wasn’t long before he joined your group.

And it wasn’t long before you got this stupid crush on him.

Not that it matters anyway. He doesn’t know and you don’t plan on ever telling him to be honest. You know how easily things could go wrong and you’re fine with simply being his friend.

“Okay, babe, that’s enough for now…” Ana quiets down her boyfriend with a small kiss on his lips and finally pipes down to focus on Patrick Swayze’s biceps.

Your eyes rest on the screen as another exhausted sigh escapes you. This novel is your chance of having something of yours published. What if you can’t make it in time? What if it’s shit? What if you finally realize after all this time that being a writer was never what you were supposed to be and all those years believing that were in vain? What if-?

Your thoughts get interrupted when you feel a palm laying across your knee and squeezing it gently.

The fog in your head clears a bit when you find Jimin looking at you with a soft smile. One that tells you not to worry. Jimin could always read you like a book so it’s no surprise he could sense you spiralling.

And it’s not a surprise that with a single look he can calm down your racing thoughts.

He’s one of your closest friends after all.

.

.

“Hoseok you can’t keep using Ana’s departure as an excuse to not help with cleaning up!” you yell towards the couple saying goodbye at the front door, while Seokjin giggles as he dries out some of your plates.

“Shut up, you heathen, this is true love we’re talking about! Also, I can and I will!” your roommate yells back and you roll your eyes. On the other side of the room, Jimin picks up several empty beer cans as Ana kisses her boyfriend.

“Go on, babe, before they drive a stick through your ass,” she chuckles.

Hoseok pouts, the gesture almost etched to his features by now. “Oh, and you haven’t even done it that thing you wanted yet!”

“Again keep your weird sexual life out of this god-respected household,” Jimin comments and at once everyone turns to stare at him confused.

He stares back before, “Okay, yeah, I just heard it…” then he proceeds to take the trash out.

Ana chuckles before pressing another kiss on Hoseok’s lips. “Okay, I’m off. Bye guys!” to which you all respond with a chorus of “byes”.

Hoseok closes the door with a dreamy sigh before trekking over to the kitchen island to watch as you and Seokjin clean up. “Is it weird that I miss her already?”

Seokjin coos at the same time you react too. Although your reaction comes closer to a gagging sound and now both of them look at you like you just kicked a puppy.

You clear your throat, “oh, I- I meant… ''awww”...” you reply quickly, avoiding their stares to clean up the rest of the plates.

“Don’t mind her Hobi, she's just jealous,” Seokjin comments as he rests his towel on his shoulder.

At that, you scoff. You’re not jealous! You just hate corny things!

“Jealous? Pff. Who says they miss someone right after they leave? That’s just cheesy! I mean, yeah, you and Ana are perfect for each other, you’re cute together and you complete each other, and there’s intimacy and feelings and mutual respect…” your voice becomes sadder at the end and ultimately fades out, leaving you staring at the floor.

Where were you going with this?

The guys look at you with knowing glances and you groan out loud.

“Oh, shut your faces. I’m not jealous!” “Who’s not jealous?” Jimin asks once he’s back into the apartment.

“Y/N, of our relationship,” Hoseok’s quick to respond.

“Yours and mine?” Jimin queries.

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he responds in all seriousness “No, Ana’s and mine.”

Jimin just shrugs. “Makes more sense.”

Your eyes narrow and you scoff. “No, it doesn’t because I’m not jealous!”

Seokjin places his palm on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find someone someday to be grumpy with.”

You pick his hand and drop it off your shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides I got my novel to write, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’d marry rich if I was expecting anything of that novel!” Hoseok comments with a laugh but everyone freezes, including you. Is that what he really thinks? That you’re not gonna make it?

All of you turn to look at him, but Hoseok remains oblivious of your stares for a few moments. But when he realizes you’re all looking at him, he looks confused.

“What?” he asks, visibly perplexed.

Jimin’s eyes widen, disbelief in his voice. “Dude!”

Hoseok shrugs though his eyes widen in almost fear. “It was a joke!” his voice is one pitch higher as slight traces of panic are evident in his words. When no one responds, he turns to you, desperation and honesty in his eyes. “Y/N, really, it was just a joke.”

You stare for a moment too long, before you nod, giving him a smile to spare him from his misery, deciding to not let such a simple comment affect you. “Yeah, yeah, I know, of course!”

“I didn’t mean any of that okay? It was a stupid joke!” Hoseok nearly screeches, regret in his words as he doesn’t seem at all convinced by your answer.

You force a laugh to calm him down.

“Hobi, I’m fine! Don’t worry too much,” you smile at him, patting him on the back and moving to put the plates Seokjin dried out to their respective cabinets.

He still doesn’t seem convinced and he’s ready to pester you some more before Seokjin intervenes, sensing you’re starting to feel uncomfortable with all the attention. “Anyways, Hoseok you said you wanted my opinion on something?”

Hoseok’s attention turns to Seokjin once he speaks up. “Ah yeah! Actually, my three-year anniversary with Ana is coming up and I’m all out of ideas,” he responds sheepishly as he rubs the base of his neck.

“Ehm, hello? I’m her best friend, why don’t you ask me?” you complain, putting your hands on your waist with one eyebrow cocked up.

“Y/N your most serious relationship lasted two months and it ended because you fought over which peanut butter spread is the best,” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you as he and Seokjin walk over to the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas.

“I’m sorry but whoever thinks smooth is better than crunchy is simply not human,” the memory sends a shudder through you and you look at Jimin for confirmation and he’s quick to nod his head and agree.

“Oh, yeah, that relationship had no future after that,” he washes his hands at the sink as he looks over to Hoseok who simply giggles.

“Okay, yeah, I can give you that one. But you really have no idea of relationships, so I’m sorry but I’m not taking any suggestions,” he softens the blow with a flying kiss in your direction.

You scoff, indignant. “Rude. True but rude!” you admit as you finally place the last of the plates in its place. Hoseok and Seokjin are now deep in conversation, throwing one idea after the other and if he decides to go with any of these, you’re sure Ana will dump him before he gets the chance to utter “break up sex”.

Seeing as there’s nothing else left for you to do, you decide to head off to sleep, making a mental note to talk to Hoseok about his date ideas and salvage whatever you can.

“Okay, I’m going to bed, goodnight guys!” you wave them goodnight before turning to the hallway when Jimin comes towards you.

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, following you into the corridor.

You walk in silence, not that it’s weird or anything. You and Jimin have reached that point in a friendship where you don’t have to fill the silence to be comfortable around each other. You could be in the same room, doing completely different things, not talking at all, and still, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Once you reach both of your rooms, as they are right across from one another, you ready to say goodnight when Jimin interrupts you.

“Ah, wait…” he stops you just as you reach for your doorknob and you turn around. “What is it?”

He sighs before, “look, I know you know Hoseok didn’t mean any of that but I also know words tend to get into your head…” he begins, voice gentle and eyes cautious on you as you fidget on your spot uncomfortably.

“And I just want to say-”

“What?” you cut him off with a tired sigh, “everything will turn out okay? That suddenly I’m gonna be blessed with divine inspiration when I least expect it?” you give him a weak smile, crossing your hands on your chest.

What you don’t expect is Jimin to laugh. “No, no, all of that is just a pile of crap!” he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I wanted to say that whatever goes through that little mind of yours shouldn’t keep you from writing. That’s what you do, you write! And, yeah, some of it may come out as complete bullshit, but that’s just how it has to go before you get better,” he says simply, voice filled to the brim with honesty and you rest your eyes at your feet, suddenly feeling very self-aware.

“Because I know you’re gonna get better. You just need a push,” he finally smiles softly at you, warmness spreading through your heart as if his smile is a portable heater, radiating warmth to the people closest to it.

“Thanks…” you mumble back, letting your eyes find him to truly express how thankful you are.

You aren’t good with expressing your feelings, not when it’s not on top of a piece of paper. Everyone knows this, Jimin even more so. You know you don’t have to say anything for him to understand how you truly feel.

And so he smiles back and nods as if to say “you’re welcome”.

And for a few moments, you stay like that. Both of you leaning on your doors, staring at each other as another silence fills the corridor.

But this one is different. Still comfortable but there’s something else hanging in the air. It’s the way you look at each other, basking in each other’s presence, comfortable and not ready to say goodnight yet.

It’s the way Jimin’s looking at you. Smile slightly fading as his eyes remain on your face, ever serious, ever intense as if they’re saying something his lips can’t, something you can’t quite understand, something that makes you feel-

Jimin breaks the stuffed silence with a shake of his head. “Anyways, um… goodnight, Y/N…” he says, voice thick with something and his words seem to revive you as well as he opens the door to quickly go into his room.

“Ah, yeah, goodnight, Jimin,” you reply casually before you enter your bedroom and close the door behind you.

That felt… weird.

As much as you try to put a name to what you felt out there, you can’t. The situation felt too foreign, too much for your drunk mind to comprehend.

You shake your head, passing it off to the many beers you had and without giving it much of another thought you go to sleep.

.

.

Although, three weeks pass after that talk and you still can’t get it out of your mind.

You figured you would’ve forgotten about it by now, blaming it on the amount of alcohol you had consumed that night but no. Those last few moments before you parted in the middle of your hallway still linger in the crevices of your mind, not unlike a bunch of vultures scavenging for prey.

Even now, at Seokjin’s birthday party, it’s all you can think about instead of paying attention to the birthday boy himself and the subject of your affections. If he even knew you weren’t focusing on him on his own birthday party he would flip.

Did Jimin want to say something to you? It seemed so but since then he’s made no indication as to show he wants to talk to you. It’s been three weeks and there was no other talk of that weird conversation outside your bedrooms. No sign that it ever happened. You wonder what was going through his mind at that time. You wonder what he’s thinking about it now, if he even thinks about it still like you.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello?” a floating hand breaks your inner monologue, Ana looking at you with scrunched eyebrows and a glare to match. The two of you are currently alone amidst the crowd of partygoers as Ana dragged you aside to excitedly tell you about the amazing anniversary Hoseok had planned for them, last Saturday. You guess you lost focus somewhere in the middle.

“What?” your voice gets defensive and Ana’s glare seems more intimidating as seconds pass by.

“You stopped listening!” she slaps you lightly on the arm and a yelp comes out of your lips as a form of protest.

“I didn’t!” you try to defend your guilty self as you rub the afflicted spot.

“Yeah, no, I thought so at first “Y/N would never just stop listening” so I started casually throwing Seokjin’s name into the conversation, that always worked like a charm to get you to focus, but you still didn’t listen!” she retaliates and you shrink back in shame.

“Sorry…” you mumble in all honesty, biting your lip in embarrassment. “But I heard the most important parts!” you perk up, “And the whole concert then cooking at home date idea was really insightful and cute! And full disclosure, if I hadn’t interfered and let Hoseok listen to Seokjin, you would’ve ended up at a screening of cats!” you shake your finger at her and she giggles out loud.

“Although I gotta admit, Hoseok cleaned up really well on its own…” you smile at her and she nods with a dreamy sigh before taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, and you have to thank me for stopping Hoseok from using his “free Hoseok love” coupon as a gift.”

Ana’s eyes widen in grave seriousness. “Oh, he did use that…”

You wince at that. “Oh god, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t fret too much about it, he also bought me that cute pair of boots I wanted!” she pats you on the back before she bites her lip as a child that’s about to get scolded, “~and… I also kind of enjoyed it…” she says with a wink and you roll your eyes at your friend.

“The leather ones that were really expensive?” she had rumbled over the course of a week about how she fell in love with those boots but their relationship would’ve never worked (in simpler words she couldn’t afford them).

She nods at you. “Marry him,” you respond with urgency and Ana laughs at you.

But as her giggles die down her face turns solemn once more.

“Are you okay though? It’s not like you to not pay attention, even more so when it’s about Seokjin…” she says with a chuckle at the end, yet her eyes remain cautious and you sigh.

“Yeah, it’s just that Jimin-”

“Y/N, wait… I’m sorry but you do realise that I was talking about Seokjin, right?” her stare is a bit weirded out, “and that we’re currently at his birthday party and you choose to hang out with me instead of talking to him?” she skillfully observes, making you feel uncomfortable at how her words trigger something you haven’t acknowledged before and you’re certainly not ready to do so now.

You shrug. “I guess I don’t know what to say…” you choose to say instead, hoping it’s enough of an excuse to get out of this conversation.

“What do you mean? You never had a problem with that before…” she counters, genuinely confused at your bizarre behaviour and you press your lips in a tight line as you shrug once more, not really knowing how to address that.

At your hesitation to breach the subject, something seems to click in Ana’s mind and she sighs in realization.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting all grumpy and defensive?” she asks, eyes careful and hands in the air as if to pacify you. You shrug again, albeit a bit curious about what she has to say.

“I don’t think you really like Seokjin- ah, ah! Let me finish!” she shushes you when you begin protesting, “I mean not anymore, it was pretty obvious you were crazy into him when I first met you but now…” she takes a breath, eyes looking at you wearily as she prepares for the finishing blow, “now I think you cling into the idea of liking him because it’s comfortable. Because it’s easier to fall back into the safety net of liking someone and not doing anything about it than making yourself deal with the fear and uncertainty that comes with meeting someone new.”

Your cheeks flush as you stare at her, feeling vulnerable as if someone cut you open and went through your most inner thoughts, even when you feel like there’s something else that neither you nor she hasn’t been able to pinpoint.

Ana’s observation finally put what you’ve been feeling for a while into words. You haven’t realized it but the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.

And yet you still stubbornly act like it’s not the case at all.

“I… I’m not afraid to meet new people…” your protest is as weak as your voice and Ana looks at you unimpressed and thoroughly unconvinced.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem talking to Seokjin’s friend from high school,” she points at the tall, blond hunk with the glasses and the cute dimples currently chatting with Seokjin.

“Namjoon?! Are you nuts?! He’s way out of my league!” you screech in panic. Namjoon is a sight to be held and in your opinion, people should pay to see him up close. Would that be considered a fucked up way of prostitution? You’re not sure.

Ana rolls her eyes. “First of all, “leagues” aren’t a thing and second of all, you’re totally scared boo!” she says plainly with a victorious grin and you flinch instinctively.

“I’m not! I just don’t have time for a relationship!” you say, still trying to get out of this conversation even though Ana doesn’t seem at all deterred.

“No one talked about a relationship, you baboon, it could be just sex. But, out of simple curiosity, how long has it been since you had sex? Seven, eight months?” she retaliates, in all ways but physical backing you up into a corner.

You groan, hiding your flaming face behind your hands.

“This is the perfect opportunity to hook up with someone and never having to talk to them again for the rest of your life. No strings attached, no awkward first dates, no phone calls. Just one night of drunken sex to get you to relax a bit and who knows? Maybe it’ll help you get your inspiration back,” she concludes with a tilt of her head. And the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right about everything. About Seokjin, about using him as a distraction, about needing to relax and this being the perfect opportunity for it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt any sort of attraction for Seokjin. No excitement or accelerated heartbeat, no sweaty hands, no unbearable giddiness when he decides to throw a visit.

You guess somewhere along the way those feelings faded out, giving place to the love and comfort that comes out of a years-long friendship. You’re not attracted to him anymore.

And Ana’s suggestion does seem kind of appealing. You suppose some sex would help you get rid of all the nerves that come with writing a book.

And Namjoon is kinda hot. Okay, scratch “kinda”, “unbearably hot” is more fitting.

You just worry if he’ll able to surpass the last time you had sex. For some reason, you’re almost convinced he won’t.

“Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it,” at that Ana squeals and claps her hands happily.

“But I have to talk to Seokjin first,” you continue, resulting in a confused expression masking Ana’s face.

“What? Why?”

You shrug. “I spent those four years crushing on him, I feel like I need some kind of closure,” you chuckle and Ana stares at you dumbfounded before she shakes her head.

“Fine, do what you have to, but don’t take too long! Namjoon is like a walking modelling billboard, most of the people in this party have their eyes on him. Boy, if I wasn’t dating Hoseok would we be doing things right now…” she reveals as she stares at the man in question while biting her lip and you stare at her disapprovingly.

“What? I said if,” she says as if abdicating all blame and you shake your head at her with a laugh. Hoseok wouldn’t mind and to be honest they’d probably be talking about how to convince Namjoon for a threesome.

“Okay, I’m going, wish me luck,” you announce as you begin making your way towards Seokjin.

“What you need is alcohol, not luck,” Ana yells at you as she goes to find her boyfriend and you give her one last smile before turning your attention to the birthday boy.

Only now realizing what you’re about to do and, great, your hands are trembling. Maybe you did need some alcohol.

But it’s too late to make a run for it when Seokjin spots you and a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! Come over here! You know Namjoon right?” he rushes to include you into the conversation, eyes wide with hidden meaning as he nudges you towards Namjoon and the man with the dimples smiles at you.

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met before. How are you?” you smile back at him and the longer he smiles, the deeper his dimples become and the more adorable he is.

“Can’t complain. How about you?” he chuckles, the sound almost illegal, as he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Oh, right, he also has a deep and mellifluous voice. How is this man not famous for something?

“Pretty well I’d say. Um, do you mind if I steal the birthday boy for a bit? There’s something I need to talk to him about…” your hand is already dragging a confused Seokjin away, even if you’d rather be doing that to the other boy.

Namjoon blinks at you, as perplexed as Seokjin before “Ah, yeah, sure…”

“Thanks!” you yell over the music, although you’re sure the man mustn’t have heard you as you’re already making your way down the corridor towards the back of Seokjin’s apartment.

“Ugh, Y/N? What’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice is beyond weirded out as you finally reach his bedroom, that’s off-limits for the party. You push him in and close the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed some privacy for what I’m about to do…” you admit with shaking hands as Seokjin’s eyes widen in fear and confusion.

You take a breath before fixing your posture and stare bravely at the man in front of you. “This may come as a shock to you but I…” you take one final breath, “I used to like you-” you begin, dreading the moment Seokjin decides this is too odd for him.

“I know.”

Seokjin’s voice takes you by surprise as your mind processes the words that just left his mouth, a different kind of dread overwhelming you.

He knows?

“What? What do you mean you know?” your voice comes out offended, as Seokjin puts down his drink with a sigh and turns to look at you.

“I mean I know. You weren’t exactly subtle with the stares and all…” he comments calmly although your mouth falls open to join your feet at the ground at the absurdity of the situation.

He knows. All this time, he knew?!

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” you throw the words at him accusingly and he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you! I figured since you hadn’t said anything that you didn’t want to act on it so I never said anything either!” he defends himself, voice high-pitched in true Seokjin fashion.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarras- Wait,” you cut yourself when his words strike you as odd and another thought makes itself known in your mind. “You mean that if I had said something…?” you look at him weirdly and Seokjin sighs, eyes already confirming your suspicions.

“I might… not have said no to a date…” he admits, scratching his ears and your mouth drops open.

You could have dated the Kim Seokjin and you didn’t because you were too scared to make a move?

Wow, your past-self would be seriously pissed at you.

Seokjin rushed to explain. “But that was back then when I didn’t know you that well!”

You gasp at the offence, crossing your arms on your chest. “You mean now that you do know me, I'm not that dateable, Kim Seokjin?!”

He groans, rubbing a palm over his face. “I just meant that back then I was willing to risk our friendship because we weren’t that close in the first place! But now we’ve been friends for almost half a decade and even though you are extremely dateable” he says with a roll of his eyes but you’re still satisfied, “I just can’t see you in that way. And even if I did I wouldn’t be willing to risk our friendship over something like that,” he concludes with a sigh.

“Oh,” you reply simply, satisfied with his answer before you continue.

“Well, that’s good actually, because I just wanted to tell you that whatever those feelings were… they’re gone now. So I just… wanted to come clean I guess…” you admit softly, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“So, we’re okay?” Seokjin asks with hope and you smile, lightly punching his arm. You find yourself relieved after Seokjin’s confession and you know you’ll be fine.

“We’re okay,” you nod and Seokjin smiles back.

“That punch was lame,” he retorts and you gasp. “Do you want me to punch you for real, you masochist?”

His smile widens. “No, you freak of nature, I want a hug!”

Immediately, you begin protesting. “No, no, no, no, no. No hugs, you know this!” you begin moving away from him as he comes closer with a predatory grin. You absolutely hate hugs. They’re unnecessary long and intimate, you never know where to put your hands and you always end up having someone’s hair in your mouth.

Seokjin pouts as he nearly chases you into the hallway. “Come on, I just found out I’m not your crush anymore! Do you know how much of a hit is that to my ego!?” he says, standing in front of you, effectively blocking your way to freedom.

You sigh, already regretting, the words you’re about to say but seeing no other way out.

“Fine, but you have to promise me to not tell anyone! I have a reputation to upkeep!” you yield, shaking a threatening finger at him but his grin only grows bigger.

“Deal!” he squeals, eager to grasp this rare chance of affection from you, seeing as he has tried numerous times to get a hug from you but being unsuccessful. Till now that is.

His hands wrap around you in a soul and bone-crushing hug as your arms end up being squished between your bodies. You try to control the smile on your lips as you struggle to break your arms free and wrap them around his impossibly wide shoulders. Actually, this doesn’t feel so bad. It feels like being enveloped in a giant, fuzzy blanket. If that blanket had an unquenchable thirst for strawberry shortcakes.

A few moments pass before you begin to pull back. “Okay, you giant carebear, that’s enough,” you giggle as Seokjin retracts his hands.

“Now, wasn’t that refreshing?”

“If I let you know, I’ll have to kill you,” you mumble fixing your clothes and Seokjin’s trademark laugh echoes throughout the corridor, making your smile grow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he throws you a cheeky wink.

You shake your head at him with a laugh before another thought crosses your mind and you bite your lip. “So… about Namjoon…”

Seokjin’s mind instantly follows your train of thought but he lets out a surprising -to say the least- groan. “Seriously?”

You find his reaction a bit too odd for your liking. “Why?”

“Uhm, you dragged me away to my bedroom at my own birthday party. He probably thinks we jumping uglies right now,” he fixes you with a disappointed stare. Fuck, you didn’t think of that.

You grunt in frustration. “Great, now what?”

Seokjin’s eyes glint when he comes up with yet another brilliant idea. “If we split we’ll find him faster!” he exclaims enthusiastically and your eyes widen.

“Genius thinking!” you declare before you sprint down the hallway, the both of you looking for Namjoon.

.

.

You would think it would be easy finding Namjoon in an apartment as small as Seokjin’s. But it’s not. It’s anything but.

When you finally do find him after almost 40 minutes looking for his perfect ass, it’s with his mouth stuck against another person’s neck so any hopes for a one-night-stand are going down the drain. So instead you resort to drinking the rest of Seokjin’s sparkling rosé collection until you have to pee your weight in alcohol.

You abandon the living room where the party is still going strong, in search of the holy grail that is Seokjin’s bathroom right now, hoping you get to relieve your misery.

But as you approach the door, you fail to register the voices coming from inside. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live through the impending embarrassment.

Instead, you bust the door open in your haste to pee, but all of that goes to shit once you see Jimin inside the bathroom. Or, more precisely, Jimin’s mouth sucking on the pulse of some blonde’s girl neck -who feels oddly familiar- like he’s a fucking vampire.

Your eyes widen, meeting with fear Jimin’s livid ones before “OhmygodImsorrypretendthisneverhappened!” you yell in one breath, anxious to get out of there as fast as possible and before Jimin gets the chance to curse at you, you close the door and disappear down the hallway.

Ugh, oh my god, why are you so awkward?

You rub your hands on your face as you walk down the corridor, wondering where you’re supposed to pee now. Couldn’t they bone at Seokjin’s room? 

Though, among your thoughts emerges one particular one that makes you stop dead in your tracks as you finally realize why that girl seemed familiar.

She wasn’t just some random girl. No, she was a very specific blonde girl, one that happens to be the pure personification of evil on the face of the earth, one that you’re sure hides horns beneath that perfect hair.

Jimin’s ex, the girl who manipulated and abused him repeatedly, the girl who broke up with him nearly a year ago to be with someone else, after he caught her cheating. The girl who broke his heart.

Dinah.

Fuck.

.

.

You remember the first time you met Dinah, although she hadn’t left any particular impression on you. She was a high school friend of Taehyung, with whom Seokjin shared some classes with and were kinda close. It was your fourth year in college when Taehyung was still hanging with you guys before he found a job opportunity overseas and left. Now he texts every now and then or visits even more rarely.

Seokjin’s birthday party is one of those rare visits, hence why Dinah was also present last night.

The first time you met her, almost two years ago, was in a scheduled study group in one of the local cafes. It was you, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Dinah, most of the guys, studying to prepare for their last year through college and Ana couldn’t make it so honestly, you were relieved you had another girl to go through together the boys’ antics.

Although if Ana was there, she would’ve probably spent all of her time being coupley with Hoseok and that kinda defeats the purpose.

Dinah was studying for a math exam and Jimin had offered to help her since she wasn’t very good at it. You didn’t think much of it, mind already going haywire over your new novel idea so you didn’t really pay much attention to anyone.

It had been when Jimin left for the bathroom when you saw her scrolling through her phone that you decided to help her with a problem even Jimin couldn’t quite get.

Only her reaction was a tad bit different then what you’d expected. She had interrupted you even before you got to tell her you wanted to help, with a kinda sharp tone saying she didn’t need your help. You had backed off then, kinda bummed out about it but you could already tell she was into Jimin and wanted his help specifically.

But as you had turned to pay attention back to your novel, your gaze couldn’t help but fall on her open notebook. And there it was, in a hidden corner of the page in messy scribblings the solution to the problem. Her handwriting.

You didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t your cup of tea to hide your intellect to raise the ego of the boy you were into and besides feeling a bit sad for her, you didn’t do anything else. Who were you to judge?

It wasn’t until the two of them started going out that you started feeling some sort of dislike towards her. And not just you, the rest of the group as well.

It was obvious to everyone how shitty she treated Jimin. At first, of course, there were no signs as if to warn you of Dinah's manipulative nature, they were still in the lovey-dovey, honeymoon phase. But as time passed, Dinah’s facade began to crumble. Jimin’s interaction with the opposite sex were limited due to Dinah’s extreme jealousy, which meant you and Ana barely got to be around him, let alone talk to him. Her snide comments and judgey behaviour made him feel inadequate over everything. How he got her the wrong gift, how the movie he chose was stupid, how the restaurant he picked was disgusting, and the list goes on and on.

At first, Jimin tried to talk to her about those things, certain she would understand what she was doing once he’d brought it up. But when you’re in love it’s easier to ignore all the red flags. It’s easier to blame yourself for everything when you can see no fault in the person you’re in love with.

Soon the relationship turned toxic. Dinah became similar to a parasite, sucking the life and happiness out of Jimin, as he fell prey to her every whim. Making him even more insecure in himself when she knew he already had some issues he was trying to work on. But that didn’t deter her. Instead, it gave her leverage, to use all the ugly, little things Jimin thought of himself against him.

At some point, it had gotten so bad Jimin refused to eat.

It was then that all of you tried to intervene.

Unsuccessfully that is.

It had gotten pretty ugly in the span of a few minutes with how angry you and Hoseok were at Dinah and at Jimin’s unwavering loyalty to her. Soon it had become a yelling match between the three of you as Seokjin and Ana had tried to bring some sense to all of you. In retrospect, none of you handled the delicate situation well.

In the end, Jimin had stormed out of the apartment, furious at all four of you, to go to Dinah or to the only one that got him as he had put it.

Only to find her in bed with someone else.

He had come home hours later, stinking of alcohol, telling you what had happened through red eyes, tear-stained cheeks and hiccups.

You had put him to sleep and the next morning Dinah was breaking up with him over the phone.

The next few months were awful. But he survived them. He survived and realised he deserved better, not this hell Dinah made him go through. That wasn’t love.

After all of you encouraged him to talk to someone about everything, Jimin went to a therapist and he came out stronger. Sure, some of the issues were still there but so were the rest of you. He knew you’d be there for him if he ever needed you.

That’s why you’re so pissed this morning.

Ana and Hoseok look at you like you’re a ticking bomb about to explode at any minute from the other side of the kitchen island as you munch on your cereal and send death glares at Dinah, currently sitting on Jimin’s lap on the dining table.

If only “death glare” was a bit more literal.

You can’t understand Jimin. He was supposed to be over this. Doesn’t he remember what she did to him, how miserable he was?

“I haven’t seen you staring so long at something since that time you tried to microwave popcorn with your mind,” Ana’s hushed whispers reach you as not to alert the couple and Hoseok almost sputters out his milk.

“Did it work, though?” Hoseok’s eyes stare at her expectantly and you roll your eyes.

“Not gonna dignify that with a response,” is her cryptic answer.

“Seriously, am I the only one who’s pissed over this?” you say through gritted teeth, the happy couple wholly oblivious to your little conversation. Ana and Hoseok seem too calm, given you have a fucking demon at your dining table.

Ana sighs. “We are too, Y/N, but let’s face it, what can we do about it?”

You look at her in disbelief. “Talk to him?!”

“Yeah, and look at how that worked out last time…”

“They broke up.”

“After he caught her cheating…” her words are slow as if talking to a child, “and it wasn’t even him who initiated the break-up! If Jimin wants to be with her we just have to accept it and be there for him if something happens again,” she concludes, taking a sip of her coffee and you can’t believe your ears. She can’t be serious.

“Hoseok, what’s your say in this?” you ask, rather loudly might you add, so you steal a glance making sure Jimin hasn’t heard.

Hoseok shrugs in answer to your question. “We all know she was the devil incarnate. But maybe she changed. Let’s give her a chance.”

Your mouth hangs open when your last possible ally walks over to enemy territory. “Give her a chance? She’s not Andrew Garfield in the Amazing Spiderman!”

Ana’s expression gives away her utter bafflement. “I have so many questions…”

You shrug. “Everyone hates him but I think he was a great Spiderman.”

Hoseok’s incredulous stare doesn’t last for long. “Anyways, all I’m saying is Jimin went through a lot…”

“So he should know better!” you retort.

Hoseok doesn’t seem amused, “So there must be something that changed his mind! He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. If he gave her a second chance, so should we.”

Ana nods at her boyfriend’s words and they both return their eyes on you, waiting for confirmation of your part that you’re gonna be nice.

You regard them with an ominous glare, “Traitors…” you mumble before you groan. “Fine. But I’m gonna be watching her every move. Like an owl!”

“I’m fairly positive it’s supposed to be “like a hawk”...?” a confused pout takes over Hoseok’s lips.

Ana chuckles, “It is “like a hawk”.”

Your confusion is evident. “Really? But owls are nocturnal animals, therefore have better eyesight!”

Ana rolls her eyes at you, tired of all the bird talk. “Even so! Please promise you’ll behave!”

You take a deep breath when a shrill laugh echoes throughout the apartment and you can already feel yourself fuming.

“I promise.”

.

.

After the two “lovebirds” have left your apartment for an impromptu date, which the declaration of had you nearly barfing on sight, you crawled back into your room, in search of inspiration, daring to take another shot at your mostly unfinished novel.

You gather your hair up in a messy bun, glasses on top of your nose, iced coffee next to your papers, preparations all ready to freely embark on the raging seas of creativity.

If writing a novel was that easy.

After writing another three chapters, well after the sun has settled in the horizon and your eyes are barely keeping themselves open, a knock thrums against your door. But before you get to reply, the door creaks open and Ana pops up behind it, walking in with observing eyes and a bag of cheddar-flavoured chips.

“Why do you even bother knocking?” you sigh, taking off your glasses to rub your exhausted eyes.

“The knock is a warning, not a request for entry,” she plops on your bed with a smile, crossing her legs on your duvet and pats the space next to her. 

It’s not uncommon to have Ana spending the entire day here, after all, she is one of your closest friends, an elementary part of your group and Hoseok’s girlfriend.

You get up from your desk, limbs aching for the various positions your body has been in the midst of writing, and with a tired smile you sit down next to her.

“No luck with the book still?” she asks, passing you the chips and you hum appreciatively, your tongue already tasting the divine taste of those chips.

“Well, I’ve written some stuff… just not any particularly good stuff,” you munch through the snack with a grubbled noise of satisfaction and Ana nods in understanding at your words, “and honestly that whole “Dinah” thing is infuriatingly distracting! I’m still pissed and I can’t even stop thinking about it.”

“Wait…” Ana interrupts you and if her face says anything is that she just came to a sudden realization. One she doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy.

“Are you sure this isn’t because of…?” her words hang in the air as she regards you with careful eyes, waiting for you to grasp the meaning between her words.

Though you’re none the wiser. “Because of…?” your utter obliviousness is infuriating and Ana groans, rubbing her palms on her face, pinning you with a ridiculous look.

Right then, it’s as if a moment of clarity strikes you and you finally understand what she means.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“What? Ew, no! Why would you even think that?!” you immediately protest, entirely disgusted by the mere notion of what Ana is implying.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered by your extreme reaction. “I’m just saying, it happened!”

“Yeah, eight months ago!” she can’t be serious. There’s no way she actually believes that.

She cocks an eyebrow. “It was also the last time you had sex.”

You let an exhale drop from your lips, as you take a trip down memory lane, all the way back to eight months ago.

It was April, four months or so after Dinah had broken up with Jimin, leaving him a complete wreckage in her absence. It became a group activity, trying to get Jimin back on his feet. Making sure he ate, taking him outside for some fresh air, helping him get out of his funk.

One night, you took him out for drinks in a bar close to home, to help him get over her through alcohol and hopefully some meaningless sex with a stranger. And Although both of those things happened, it wasn’t a stranger lending him a helping hand that night. Or a helping mouth if you want to be accurate.

You had woken up the next morning in his bed due to the unsettling feeling of dread curling in the pit of your stomach. What the hell were you thinking? What if this changed everything? You were best friends and roommates, what now?

But when Jimin woke up, everything seemed to be back to normal. You were relieved things didn’t become weird, his words immediately putting a rest to your worries over your possibly ruined friendship, joking lightly about the whole thing and how the others might react to the whole incident. It wasn’t a big deal because you never let it become one. It was but one night of mindless sex, one that left you both satiated and you could both agree it meant nothing. Jimin just needed some rebound sex and you… well, it had been a while. And you had needs.

Although you did get a lot of teasing from the rest of the group for the next few weeks. That wasn’t anything fond to remember, especially when you were still thinking you were into Seokjin and he had a large part in said teasing.

But that was in the past. You never felt anything for Jimin in the first place.

“It’s not that, okay? She’s just an awful person and I don’t want to even think about the consequences of her doing Jimin dirty again,” your calm voice and demeanour finally convince Ana as she lets out a relieved breath.

“Okay, good. Got scared there for a second, things could get really messy,” she admits with a small smile.

“You don’t have to worry about that. If anything that’s the least of your worries right now,” you say munching on some more chips as you eye the clock on your wall.

Ana looks at you perplexed. “What do you mean?”

You press your lips together. “Hoseok is alone in his room right?”

Ana looks even more baffled now, not sure where you’re going with this. “Yeah…?”

You press your lips in a tight line. “It’s 10 o’clock…” you relay, a sense of urgency in your voice.

Ana’s eyes widen. Hoseok’s latest obsession is watching Glee reruns on TV, which wouldn’t be that bad if he didn’t insist on singing every episode’s songs for the remainder of the week.

‘You can still stop him if you run…” you offer and Ana is immediately off your bed.

“Hoseok put down the remote!” she yells, running out of your room, down into the living room as you giggle and munch on the chips she left behind.

Your mind travels back to Ana’s worries about your feelings but you laugh them off.

You and Jimin? The entire idea is utterly ridiculous. He’s your best friend, you could never look at him that way.

Although, you too can admit he can be a sexy piece of ass when he wants to.

With a sigh, you throw the empty bag of chips on the floor and get under your covers, your mind too tired out to continue writing.

You just hope this thing with Dinah is only temporary. How long can a fling last when you already know the bad side of your lover?

.

.

When another week passes and they’re still going strong with no prospects of a breakup anywhere on the horizon, you realize it can be long.

Very long.

You wake up each day to giggles, picking thrown out clothes off the couch, listening to their yucky canoodling as they insist on making out on every surface of the apartment like a bunch of delinquents. While the rest of you are still present!

You swear if you hear another one of her obnoxious laughs you’re gonna drive a glass dildo through your ear canals to stop yourself from hearing altogether.

“I can’t take this anymooooore…” Hoseok whines quietly as you, he and Seokjin are crammed in the two-seat couch, while the lovebirds currently occupy the entirety of the big sofa.

It’s not that there’s no space for you to sit there as well. More like their insistent snogging effectively grosses the rest of you away.

“Me neither, but what can we do?” Seokjin whispers back while shuffling on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position and instead, managing to elbow both you and Hoseok in the process as an episode of Brooklyn 99 plays on the TV.

At the other side of the coffee table, Ana smiles triumphantly at you as she crosses her legs on top of the only armchair in the room. She was faster than the rest of you, that mean son of a bitch.

Hoseok squints at her with hatred before leaning in to whisper. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on by how mean she looks?”

Both yours and Seokjin’s protests of disgust are immediate.

“Lower the tent you perv,” Seokjin makes a face.

“Too late, this tent is the sturdiest thing ever built. I mean it’s so strong, so efficient, this stick is never gonna go down-”

“Okay, we have to do something or else I’m gonna finally kill Hoseok. After all those years of putting up with his weird sexual energy… this is gonna be the last straw,” your serious eyes turn to Seokjin to stress out the gravity of the situation.

Hoseok giggles mischievously and Seokjin sighs almost like he’s on auto-pilot. “Okay, okay, what do you propose?”

Hoseok pulls a face. “Really? That’s what convinces you? I’m hurt and as your friend of nearly four years I won’t stand for this kind of dishonour of my name!”

You both stare at Hoseok for a minute, no reaction whatsoever.

“Okay, I have a plan,” you ignore Hoseok in favour of turning to Seokjin and Hoseok groans, mumbling a grumpy “fake friends”.

“For the last time, Y/N, I refuse to be involved in your -honestly frightening- lust for murder,” Seokjin gives you the stink eye.

You gasp, offended. “I never said anything about murder!” you exclaim and Seokjin’s shoulders drop, looking somewhat remorseful.

You bite your lip though, knowing full well he’s not gonna like this suggestion either. “I just said we could sedate her and put her in Jimin's room.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, entirely disappointed but not surprised. “No.”

“Why? It’s a win-win situation! We don’t get to hear her and the couch is free!” you protest but Seokjin’s eyebrow raises.

“How’s that a win-win situation?”

“It’s a win-win situation for us! None of the wins is for her,” you shrug before Seokjin flicks you in the forehead and you yelp in pain.

The sound somehow alerts the couple and they both stop kissing to look over to the three of you weirdly. You and the boys immediately stop talking, trying to look as inconspicuous as ever. Which only makes you look even more suspicious.

“You guys okay there?” Jimin asks, voice questioning and wary.

All three of you smile at the same time, which honestly gives you a creepy “Stepford Wives” vibe, and you speak up when an idea pops into your head.

“Yeah, it’s just that this couch is kinda um… small for the three of us. But we’re fine!” you feel Seokjin staring at you wildly and you discreetly nudge him to play along.

Jimin’s face falls. “Oh, I didn’t realize! Some of you can come sit here.”

“Oh, no!” Seokjin waves his hands dismissively, “You guys seem really cosy there, we don’t want to ruin that!” he says, finally following your line of thought and you nod quickly as if to agree with him.

“Ah…” Jimin replies, voice soft and a second passes where his face hardens. But then it’s gone and he taps his finger on his chin as he thinks it through before-, “Well, you three can sit here and we can sit on the smaller couch if you’d like.”

The three of you are already standing up, ignoring the pout and slightly sharp glare Dinah is giving you.

Suck it up, demoness.

“Well, if you’re sure-”

“We’d really appreciate it-”

“Aren’t you two the sweetest-”

Jimin smiles at you, probably already knowing what’s going on and yet he says nothing, urging Dinah to stand up and follow him on the smaller sofa.

You and the boys fall to the bigger sofa with moans of appreciation, finally free to spread out your limbs without touching each other.

“Oh, yeah… that’s the stuff…” you moan as your arms lie limblessly to your side, not touching Hoseok’s or Seokjin’s for just a few centimetres but even those little centimetres of distance come as a blessing.

Ana chuckles at your antics and Seokjin sends her a glare.

“You don’t have laughing-at-the-rest-of-us rights, anymore, Brutus!” he shakes a finger at her but Ana’s smile doesn’t deteriorate.

“I’d let that Brutus impale me with her blade anytime…” Hoseok adds unnecessarily and you groan.

Jimin takes a pause for having his soul sucked from his mouth from the dementor next to him, to look mildly curious. “How would that even work?” he asks and Dinah looks less than thrilled to not have his whole attention anymore, making you feel somewhat in the mood to gloat.

Ana rushes to explain. “Well, you see it can happen when you have purchased a specific type of-”

Seokjin immediately shuts Ana with his palm over her mouth. “Did you have to ask?!”

Jimin giggles. “I just wanted to know!”

“Yeah, and I wanted to not be traumatized by that image at 8 o’clock on a Thursday night but here we are!” Seokjin interjects and an involuntary laugh escapes your lips before Hoseok joins you.

And then Ana and Jimin do too before Seokjin relents as well at the sound of your laughter and you all end up cackling like maniacs in the middle of your living room.

Well, all except one.

Dinah sighs a little too loud when your giggles don’t seem to die down and she slowly gets off the couch. Her sullen face, an indication she visualised this whole evening to play out a little differently.

“I think I’m gonna head home…” She addresses Jimin and he stands up too.

“Oh, no, so soon?” your sarcasm can’t be helped. Hoseok elbows you in the ribs in return and you just barely conceal your groan.

“Why? Stay a little while longer…” Jimin pouts at her, that one specific pout that makes him seem like a kicked puppy, therefore makes him irresistible to refuse. You purse your lips as you guide your attention to the latest adventures of Jake Peralta but your treacherous ears can’t help but follow the rest of the conversation.

“I can’t. I have to be at the office early tomorrow…” she sounds remorseful as her hands rest on Jimin’s chest. But as said before you’re definitely not looking at them, so you can only guess.

“I’m sure those kids can wait a little- You know what, I felt bad for saying that, so forget I ever did,” Jimin says quickly as he circles his hands around her waist. Again you guess.

Ah, yeah, you forgot to mention. Dinah is a damn paediatrician. How could a person as evil as herself be something in such close proximity to children will forever escape you.

She smiles at him before- “Buut… you can come over instead if you’d like…” she says in a low voice and your eyes widen. You drag them away before Jimin’s surprised ones find you.

He can’t do that! Well, obviously, he can but Jimin wouldn’t do that to you-.

“Actually I promised Y/N we’d watch Space Jam tonight…” he tells her somewhat apologetically but still you feel relieved. Watching Space Jam is kind of a tradition between the two of you. It was a favourite movie of both, a feel-good movie if you will and long ago you’d promised each other that when things got rough for one or the other and you needed a little pick-me-up, you’d watch the movie together. You didn’t have to say anything else, just ask if the other one wanted to see the movie. And whatever the two of you had planned instead didn’t matter, you were always there when the other needed you.

You asked him this time. Your novel wasn’t going that well and some serious doubts over your writing skills had plagued your mind. You needed a getaway. And you weren’t about to let her get that away from you.

“Oh… okay…” she responds, face crestfallen and sad eyes looking at her feet and you almost scowl. She’s doing this on purpose! She knows it’s a tradition between the two of you and by acting like this she hopes Jimin will bail out on you.

Well, joke’s on her, because that won’t work on-.

“But, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind if we do that some other time!”

You freeze. Did he just-? No, Jimin wouldn’t. But the smile on his lips, so hopeful, says otherwise.

You can feel everyone staring at you, waiting for an answer. Do they seriously expect you to be fine with this?! Jimin knows how much this means to you, what it exactly means about your state of mind right now! Is he seriously about to blow you off?!

Ana is staring at you with alarm, sensing you’re about to explode, warning you against it. She knows it’ll just hurt Jimin and you know that too, but what about you?

You ignore her stare, opening your mouth to give a piece of your mind when you meet Jimin’s eyes.

There’s no sign of ulterior motives in their familiar brown, just expectation as your best friend waits for the answer. You forget what you wanted to say and you just stare back. Why is it so damn difficult to say no to him?

A few seconds pass and Jimin, having sensed your hesitation, opens his mouth with a sigh. “Nevermind, we can just-”

“It’s fine! You can go!” you exclaim surprising everyone including yourself. Jimin turns to look at you flabbergasted but you just smile at him. You don’t know what drove you to do that. You just couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice while knowing you’re the one causing it.

“Are you sure…?” his voice is cautious, not wanting to go if it means it’ll get you even a little bit uncomfortable. Sweet Jimin, always thinking about others’ feelings. You smile again to spare his feelings, disregarding completely your own.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply and the sweetest smile takes over his lips, making all of this seem worth it.

“Great! Thank you!” he says, rushing to press a quick kiss to your forehead, taking you by surprise before turning to Dinah, “Just lemme grab some stuff,” he disappears down the hall into his room.

He reappears a few minutes later with a small bag over his shoulders, the smile still present on his lips.

“Ready to go?” Dinah asks as Jimin gives her a peck on the cheek and nods.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Y/N, again thank you,” he waves at all of you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, waving as well as he exits the apartment first.

Dinah though stops before walking out the door and then she turns to you with a grateful smile.

“Y/N, thanks for that, I knew he wasn’t gonna come if you weren’t okay with it. And I’m sorry for stealing him away. Have a good night,” she addresses you before moving to exit the apartment.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome…” you reply and as soon as the door closes behind her you continue, “...you little bitch!” you move wildly to get out of the couch after her at that blatant display of her having Jimin wrapped around her little finger, while Hoseok and Seokjin are immediately trying to hold you back.

She did that on purpose! She knew what that movie represented, she just wanted to spite you! You don’t care how sincere she looked, she did that on purpose!

“Hey, hey, calm down, they’re gone!” Ana steps in front of you to calm you down and slowly your breaths even out. Your tired limbs fall lifelessly on the couch, not anymore resisting Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s hold.

Once you’ve calmed down, all of them stare at you cautiously. You hate that. You hate the pity in their eyes, you hate how they know exactly how much this hurts you, you hate feeling like you need their help.

You hate feeling vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you snap, shaking their arms off, even if your own still have a slight tremble and you stand up.

They exchange stares and you press your lips together as you stare at the ceiling. Taking a deliberately slow breath to control your trembling.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, your tone final, not waiting to hear their responses before you leave the living room for the safety of your own room.

None of them makes an attempt to follow you and you’re grateful for that at least.

You stomp into your room, closing the door loudly before grabbing your laptop and sit on your bed with a huff.

You don’t need Jimin to watch Space Jam and feel good afterwards! It’s the movie that makes you feel okay, not the person you’re watching it with. That’s what you try to convince yourself as you search for the movie on Netflix.

But as you sit there fuming through the first few minutes of the film, you can’t concentrate. You feel pushed aside as if you don’t matter, from none other than your best friend.

You press pause and with a sigh, you push the laptop aside. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to watch your favourite movie with your best friend, to make jokes and laugh with Bugs Bunny, to feel better for once in the entirety of the last month. To feel comforted and safe in the presence of your best friend instead of moping miserably on top of your bed and feeling worse than before.

Instead, you grab your phone from your nightstand, scrolling through media in a poor attempt to distract yourself.

That’s how you spend your Thursday night and before you realize it you fall asleep with your phone still on your hands.

.

.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” a soft voice brings you back from your slumber and you sleepily open your eyes to see Jimin hunched over you with a small, tender smile.

“What… What time is it?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes and Jimin’s smile widens ever so slightly.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like this…” he responds quietly, urging you to abandon your current sleeping position for one that is more comfortable under the warmth of your covers. You’ve been curled up like a cat next to your laptop that’s still paused on Space Jam.

Jimin’s careful eyes flee to the screen, only for a second before they return to you, ever so gentle.

“Oh, okay then…” you mumble kinda dumbly in your sleep-infused haze and Jimin looks at you expectantly for a moment too long before he pushes you further across the mattress, to leave what you belatedly realize is more space for him.

“Scout over…” he whines, voice still quiet and you look at him perplexed. Why does he wanna sleep here, he has his own bed.

“Why?” you ask, purely confused and not at all hurt by the previous incident as Jimin expected but nonetheless his smile saddens before he stares shyly at your duvet.

“I was thinking, perhaps, we could still see the movie if you’re not too tired…” he mumbles, eyes wide effectively nailing the “puppy stare” he’s infamous for and naturally you find resolve crumbling. The previous anger is long gone when you stare at him so you smile back as you move aside and draw the covers for him to get under.

“Get here, you rascal,” you whisper back and his smile matches yours when he obeys and climbs in, dragging the laptop forward to restart the movie.

The both of you get comfortable against your headboard, Jimin’s arm hanging loosely around your shoulders as you watch Michael Jordan get sucked down a golf hole to the Looney Tune’s world.

The truth is you’re extremely tired and you most probably will fall asleep during the movie but you don’t mind sitting next to Jimin as the movie plays in the background and you bask in his warmth. Because at last, you feel the raging sea of your thoughts subside. Your mind is once again calm and serene, all your worries thrown aside in the favor of this one moment that makes you feel content. 

Ana’s warning faintly echoes through your head but the words are not enough to dampen your mood or make you spend a little more of your focus on them, even though Jimin’s arms feel safe. Feel like home.

A small smile stretches your lips. Even when you feel your eyes heavy with sleep, you still snuggle closer to your best friend.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

He’s a terrible, terrible friend.

The thought repeats inside the crevices of Jimin’s mind like mockery as he drives. His fingers tap against the leather of the steering wheel impatiently, matching his haywire of thoughts in a weird kind of fucked up way.

He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have made the subtle request in the first place. He knew you needed him, how could he not? It was stupid and selfish of him to leave you behind when you needed him.

But when Dinah gave him a distraction, a way to keep himself occupied… that’s what he wanted. Right? A distraction from everything, something to keep his mind off of things, to keep him from making any mistakes.

But even as he was lying on Dinah’s couch he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how he left you behind in a time he knew was difficult for you just so he can finally breathe freely, focus on something else other than-.

Dinah was good at that. Making him forget.

But as awful of a friend he was, he’s apparently an even worse boyfriend.

When his thoughts got too much to handle, too much for him to ignore and pretend he didn’t feel any remorse for abandoning you, he left Dinah’s with an excuse. It was a stupid one, he knew, she knew but still, she let him go. Because, as much as she made Jimin go through before, she changed. Jimin could recognize that in the way she acted, the way she talked, even the way she kissed him. That’s why he gave her a second chance in the first place.

And then he goes and probably ruins it by being the worst boyfriend. A stupid decision really.

He parks his car in front of their building and he locks with a sigh.

It’s late, too late for you to still be awake. And if you are awake at such an hour, it’ll probably be because you’re writing and you most likely won’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin can’t help it. His guilt is killing him, eating him up from the inside so he has to at least check.

When he softly taps on your door and gets no reply, he pushes it open.

He finds you fast asleep, curled up on top of your covers, phone still on your hands and laptop still open next to your form.

He smiles softly at the image before he approaches you quietly, taking the phone from your hands to place on your nightstand before he wakes you up.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” he whispers softly, unable to keep the smile away from his lips at your adorable sleeping form. Waking you up is a necessary evil; otherwise, the next morning will consist of your sore muscles and your grumpy behaviour in all its glory.

“What… What time is it?” you ask quite drowsily and Jimin is relieved to see no sign of hurt in your voice. Nothing that exposes any malice or grudge hold against him.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on, get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like that…” Jimin pushes you softly to move under the covers when his eyes find the screen of your laptop.

Paused in the first few minutes of Space Jam.

His chest constricts uncomfortably and he moves his eyes away in shame. The pain in his chest can only feel like a blade has impaled him with all the implications of how much of an awful friend he is. God, great job, Jimin.

But as you move over your mattress and under the covers, completely serene and calm, Jimin decides to make it up to you.

Towards the end of the movie Jimin realizes you’ve fallen asleep.

You’ve been quiet for a while now but it isn’t until he turns to point something out that he realises your eyes are closed.

You’re breathing slowly, snuggled up next to him, face pressed into the pillow as your chest rises and falls ever so gently.

His lips stretch into a smile, pushing a stray hair out of your face. He picks up the duvet to properly cover you and the movement makes you shift closer to him, to press your face on his side as if searching for him even in your sleep.

His smile widens. And then it falls.

God, he wants to-.

He stops the thought before it emerges.

His movements are deliberately slow and as quiet as they can be as he gets out of bed. He closes your laptop, leaving it on top of your desk before he walks to the door.

He stops then. He turns to take one last look at you and then he leaves.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

Next morning you wake up feeling fully rested.

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes before sitting up, hands landing on your soft covers, toes on the cold floor and you wiggle them back to life as you stretch your back with an appreciative moan.

You check your phone for the time, shocked when you find it’s too early for anyone to be awake on a Friday morning and you contemplate diving back into the haven of your covers. But the truth is you don't feel sleepy anymore and you were never the person to loll around in bed either.

So with one last yawn, you put on your slippers and make way to your kitchen. Since you’re the first one up, you could cook breakfast for the boys, reminding them of how much of a good roommate you are and riding them with guilt about the fact both of them haven’t bought any popcorn this last week.

Oh, maybe eggs and bacon? They’d love that! And plus, the tastier the recipe, the more prominent the guilt. You’ll have popcorn to spare for the rest of the year.

But as you make the turn for the kitchen, someone else is already banging pots and whisks in their attempt to concoct a delicious breakfast.

Jimin’s humming some song, whisking some batter as a pan rests on top of the stove, eggs already crackling on top of the boiling oil and the smell fills your nostrils as you get closer. 

Dammit, no free popcorn for you. But at least you won’t have to cook.

“God, that smells amazing…” you comment as you take a seat on the kitchen island and Jimin turns around, eyes wide in reaction to the sudden noise but quickly smirks once it realizes it’s just you.

“Morning to you too,” he chuckles with a roll of his eyes as the whisk never stops moving in his hands. He quickly looks back on the stove when the crackling gets louder and he puts aside the batter with a curse to inspect the eggs.

“Want some help?” you can’t help the soft smile on your face, surprisingly ready to step up and aid his ministrations despite feeling relieved earlier of not having to cook.

He blows a stray hair out of his eyes before he relents. “Please.”

With a giggle, you abandon your spot to help the poor man as Jimin finally finds some time to drink some water. “Where do you want me, chief?” you ask with your hands on your waist.

Jimin chokes on his water, coughing uncontrollably and worry fills you as you’re quick to pat him on the back.

“Hey, easy with the water bud!” you joke and once his coughing stops he gives you a weak smile.

“Got it. Um, you could whisk the batter as I fry the bacon. It needs some more stirring…” he turns to take the done eggs out of the pan, face red from the coughing fit and you mumble a quick confirmation before taking a hold of the whisk.

The kitchen is then filled with the sounds of your whisking and the crackling of the oil in the pan, as Jimin continues humming that unfamiliar song. You gather your hair up in a ponytail to get them out of the way as you continue whisking next to Jimin. It’s been a long time since the two of you have been like this; cooking together, spending time next to one another and still feel close even when you say nothing. The comfortable silence stretches around you as sun rays lighten up the space, hitting at all the right spots to illuminate the two of you.

Your eyes move on their own accord, fleeting to Jimin’s concentrated face as he adds another bacon strip. His brown eyes are focused on the task ahead, eyebrows scrunching whenever a particularly loud crackling sound emerges and your lips move into shaping an involuntarily smile. The sun streams run through his hair, flecks of dust floating in the air around him, almost like a halo, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. As if you’re his lover and he makes you breakfast after spending the night together, tangled between the sheets.

Your mind short-circuits and you blink when the thought catches up with your reason.

What the fuck was that?

At that moment Jimin leans almost too close to your face, as he ducks to avoid some oil spitting out of the pan.

Your eyes widen at the close proximity and you suck in a breath, realising your mistake as soon as his natural scent infiltrates your lungs.

God, he smells so good. It reminds you of the fresh scent of rain and flowers and something so obviously him.

Jimin leans away immediately and you almost lean forward.

Y/N, what the fuck?

His smile is blinding. “Sorry…” he says before taking out the bacon strips, and you shake your head to get the weird thoughts out of your mind.

“It’s fine…” you mutter, returning your eyes to the batter.

Suddenly very aware of Jimin next to you.

.

.

After you’re done with cooking and putting some aside for Hoseok when he wakes up, the two of you sit down on the kitchen island to finally eat.

“So how did you sleep, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is coloured with a teasing timbre as he regards you with wiggling eyebrows.

You groan out loud. You remember falling asleep during the movie very clearly and he’s never gonna let you live that down. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself go down without a fight. Or at least bringing him down with you.

“It happened once! Plus I wasn’t the one ditching my best friend to go get laid!” you tease him back, although a bit of your bitterness over last night’s debacle slips through your words, the jab at him a little more serious than you intended at first.

Although your pettiness quickly ebbs away once Jimin’s smile falls and he looks at his plate with a downtrodden face. You suddenly regret saying anything, realising how much of a jerk you’ve been to bring it up when you already decided it wasn’t worth to keep a grudge over. You don’t want to be the reason he looks like this.

“I was just joking, Jimin, I’m not really mad,” you rush to comfort him, placing a tentative hand on top of his palm.

You feel at ease when you don’t feel him pull back. Though a grim sigh rolls off his lips.

“Maybe you aren’t, but that does not make the way I acted last night okay…” he admits, voice low as he rubs the base of his neck with his other hand. He bites his lip in thought and your eyes stick there for a moment before you shake your head back into reasoning.

Thankfully Jimin doesn’t seem to catch up on that. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a terrible friend. I knew you needed me and I decided to leave. Please forgive me?” he begs with a pleading smile and damn it, it’s difficult to refuse anything to these eyes.

You sigh dramatically, tapping a finger on your chin as you pretend to ponder on it. “Say I do forgive you. How do you plan on replenishing those hours of agony I was forced to spend due to your absence?” you say with a mock-strict voice and Jimin smiles, already knowing you forgave him.

“I’ll do anything you want. Consider me your personal Genie,” he jokes, jutting his chin out and puffing up his chest.

“Does that mean I get three wishes and a spectacular musical number?”

He’s quick to glare at you. “Let’s not stretch this too much, okay?”

You chuckle when an idea pops into your mind. Oh, he’s gonna hate this, perfect.

The smirk that graces your lips can’t mean anything good, Jimin realises with a sigh.

“How about a little competition…?”

Jimin’s eyes widen in fear. “You don’t mean-?”

“A Just Dance Competition!” you announce loudly, grin threatening to split your lips as Jimin stares at you with a fond smile.

“Oh, god, I should’ve expected that…” he chuckles, the sound resigning as he shakes his head.

In your first years of college, competing on Just Dance choreographies was almost an everyday thing. You and Jimin would give your best dancing moves and Hoseok would judge. Although after many times cheating and being overly competitive to the point of threatening the poor judge, you decided to leave the activity behind.

“Come on, just this once…” you hold up one finger and bring out your best puppy stare to sway him. Jimin just stares at you with crossed hands on his chest.

“You said anything…” your voice visibly loses its excitement as your face turns a bit crest-fallen.

He doesn’t last for long.

“Fine. We can do this, I guess…” he relents.

“Yes!” you do a little victory dance at Jimin’s answer.

“But just this once! And no one else can see but Hoseok!” he protests, shaking a finger scarily at you and you groan but agree nonetheless.

“Okay! It’ll just be the three of us. Partners in crime!” you declare, enthusiasm ruling over your body, standing proudly with your hands on your hips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m your friend…”

You stick your tongue out to him. “Because you looove me,” you sing-song, pecking him on the cheek, with a loud smack.

Jimin’s frame remains still for a moment. Staring at you as you climb out of your stool to wake up Hoseok and share the news before he reaches out.

“Wait…” his hand grasps your arm, halting your steps as you turn around to him with a questioning look.

He takes a deep breath before a smile befalls his lips. “I just… I never got to thank you.”

You stare back, confused, trying to think of what he wants to thank you for, but as time passes and you come by with nothing, you get more and more perplexed.

“About what?” you sit down again, kinda curious of what is so important to him that he wants to thank you.

His smile is grateful. “You know, for being so considerate with this whole situation. I mean, we all know Dinah… And I appreciate you being so cool about it,” he says calmly, thankfully as he takes your empty plates to put them on the sink.

His words send a fresh wave of guilt through you and you bite your lip. You need to tell him the truth.

“Actually about that…” you turn to look at him, trailing off and unsure of how to tell him you actually, kinda, sorta hate his girlfriend with a burning passion.

“Yeah?” Jimin’s unaware eyes and sweet smile meet your shameful and guilty ones. He looks so oblivious and so happy. You can see he likes her, you can see he wants to make this work and even you can admit Dinah’s behaviour has changed. Maybe this is it for them. Maybe all that shit had to happen so the second time around they’d know better of each other and themselves.

Maybe they were meant to make it work from the beginning.

A lump gets stuck in your throat.

“... Of course,” you smile through the sickening feeling in your chest, one you choose to ignore, despite its magnitude, “I’ll always be there to support you no matter what.”

Jimin’s smile turns wider, radiant and you feel like it swallows you.

Like it’s the only thing you see.

.

.

It’s the next evening that you put on your dancing gear and get ready to beat Jimin’s ass. 

Saturday is one of the few really free days you have. Jimin has no classes scheduled to teach today, Hoseok’s radio show isn’t scheduled for Saturdays and you’re just a writer with time to spare.

True to your words, you haven’t said anything to the other two friends of your group, keeping this little event strictly between the residents of this house. Although to be fair, there was another reason for the missed invite.

It’s not the first time during those two days that Ana’s words came to haunt you. To nag at your mind, making you wonder if there’s any truth to the accusations. Those accompanied with your behaviour around Jimin yesterday can only spell trouble for you and your dynamics.

No, there’s no way you feel anything else for Jimin besides cordial friendship. Ana just messed with your head, putting all those silly ideas in it to confuse you, hence why you can’t stop thinking about him naked.

Oops, did you say naked? You meant “in all those domestic scenarios where he’s your lover”.

You sigh. That doesn’t sound any better.

Okay, focus. You don’t like him. There’s no way.

Making your way into the living room, you find your roommates already in the area. Hoseok searches for Just Dance videos on youtube while Jimin stretches on the floor, leaning forward to touch his toes while granting you a perfect view of his plumpy behind.

God, what did I just say?!

You shake your head. That doesn’t count! You can still be attracted to someone and regard them only as a friend. Right?

Bottom line is you don’t like Jimin.

“Are we ready gentlemen?” you shot them a confident smile, already pumped up for this.

Jimin regards you with self-assurance colouring his features. “Ready for you to eat my dust? You bet I am,” he boasts, a sly smirk gracing his lips and you snort out loud.

“We’ll see about that…” is your collected comeback, not really worried about the outcome of this competition. You know you’re about to serve him his ass on a platter.

“Your trash talk sucks dick. Thank god I’m not the judge of that, both of you would be slammed to the ground right now…” Hoseok retorts with impassiveness as he puts a video on queue.

“You’re not here to roast us, you’re here to judge buttercup, so shut your hole and judge,” you bite back, the rush of the impending competition already getting you lightheaded, as you stare Hoseok down.

His eyebrow twitches in return. “Do you want me to change the song?” he challenges you.

At that, you and Jimin turn around immediately to see Twice’s Feel Special tutorial staring back at you from the screen and you realise that no. You don't.

“You’re fucking kidding me…” is Jimin’s less than excited response at having to dance the one song you’re a thousand times better than him.

This is gonna be a piece of cake.

.

.

“No, I’m done! You clearly cannot appreciate my natural charisma, which is simply a blasphemy! A blasphemy, I tell you! People would beg to be judged by me, you degenerates!” Hoseok bursts out of the couch, the dancing tutorial still echoing softly in the background.

“No, Hoseok, please! We promise we’ll be good!” you beg with not as much as a tiny speck of sympathy for your deteriorating dignity.

Jimin scoffs, crossing his hands on his chest. “We? I had no part in this disrespectful disruption and that should be duly noted!” he rushes to save face. Truth is you’ve gone a bit too far.

“Y/N, you threw your phone at me!” a sheepish smile takes over your lips as Hoseok’s eyes marvel at your completely nonchalant behaviour.

“I didn’t… throw my phone at you per se....” you struggle to find an excuse, “I… threw it to you!” you explain with a giggle once your words make somewhat sense.

“What?” Hoseok’s furrowed eyebrows are a clear indication he’s not buying your shit.

“I threw it to you, not at you! So you could... film us! And naturally, the competition would be fairer!” you say in explanation, making your story on the way though it seems none of your roommates believe you.

You suppose that’s fair.

“I would’ve believed you if you hadn’t screamed straight to my face, -and I quote-, “What do you know of judging you freaking cocksucker?”,” Jimin lets out a snort, one he’s quick to hide behind his lips once your ominous glare finds him.

“Well, that leaves us with no judge and we’re currently at a tie, so what will we do?”

Hoseok simply shrugs before heading off to the corridor. “Not my problem anymore, compadre!” he beams at you before disappearing into his room.

Another heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as the song in the background changes into a softer ballad and you turn around to Jimin.

“Well, I guess this was for nothing then…” you huff out but Jimin simply smiles.

“No, I don’t think so…” he responds cryptically and before you can question him about it, his hand grabs yours.

“Come on, let’s dance…” he mutters quietly as he drags you forward closer to him.

Your breath hitches as your palms rest on his chest, heart suddenly beating wildly out of rhythm. You try to chase away Ana’s suggestion, blaming these feelings only on the fact that he’s hot. That’s all. Nothing more.

“But it’s a ballad. It has no tutorial…” you sputter, panic lingering in your words in a futile attempt to get rid of that unexplainable warmth enveloping you as Jimin’s hands end up encasing you.

“So we’ll slow dance…” is his simple answer, clearly not at all as affected as you.

You don’t know why that drives something ugly through your chest.

There’s nothing else you can say to get out of this without making it weird, so you simply let him guide you.

It’s easy to fall into a routine, slowly swaying to the beat of the music as you rest your chin on Jimin’s shoulder. You let your hands find their way to Jimin’s back, sliding upwards to rest on his shoulder blades as his own spread comfortable warmth to the small of your back.

It’s easy to pretend like this. Easier to close your eyes and let the beat slowly fill your ears, as you bask in the safeness of Jimin’s embrace. Like it’s nothing but another normal Sunday night, and not a favour to you because he left you to go hang out with Dinah.

Dinah. The name brings a pang of dull ache in your sternum.

There’s a small lump in your throat that you swallow away.

You’re just worried for him.

A small voice wonders when you’ll grow tired of this.

Jimin’s audible sigh brings you back to reality. You lean back to find him staring at you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t look away.

There’s something in them, something unreadable but it makes your cheeks scorch with the attention. Though you’re unable to avert your gaze from them. They remind you of that night, outside of your doors, when you were sure he was about to say something but ultimately choose not to.

Again, you wonder what that was. If he’s about to say it now.

But his lips remain pierced shut.

When the silence gets overwhelming you decide to break it.

You clear your throat. “So, uhm, have you done your christmas shopping yet?” you mumble, eyes zerowing on your feet that step side by side to Jimin’s.

His eyes still seek your own. “No, not yet…” he replies casually, hands soft upon your waist. “What about you?” he asks and you’re glad for the more than welcome distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I’m done with mine. Just haven’t figured what to get for Seokjin yet… You know how he gets about presents…” you mumble with a smile before you accidentally step on Jimin’s foot.

He hisses and your eyes widen as you rush to apologize.

“Shit, I’m sorry, maybe we should stop…”

Jimin shakes his head, “No, it’s fine…” he says, though his voice is a bit stiff and his eyes avert your own.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop dancing with you.

Again, there’s silence between you, only the sound of the song wafting through the living room. But this time it feels as if something else is floating through the air. Something tense.

You’re quick to fill the silence with a question that’s not easy to ask but it’s the only thing you can think of.

“So… you and Dinah, huh?” you just barely cover your shaky voice.

Jimin’s eyes find yours again. “Oh, uhm, yeah… I mean who would’ve thought, right?” he says with a surprised chuckle, “I mean after everything you’d think I would’ve stayed clear of her…” he says bewildered and an uneasy chuckle escapes you.

“Well, yeah, to be completely honest, we all were caught off guard…” you dare to say, remembering seeing him and Dinah in Seokjin’s bathroom that night. Only now thinking of his lips on her skin makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you are this civilized about it. I admit it wasn’t supposed to go this far, she was just there when I wasn’t okay and needed a distraction. She was familiar and comfortable. But then we ended up talking and… she’s really changed, Y/N. She kept apologizing for everything and I couldn’t help but think about how it would be if we tried again. I mean everyone deserves a second chance, right?” he concludes with such clarity and insight.

There’s a part of you that wants to say he’s stupid and naive for believing her. But the truth is he’s right. Everyone sane can see she has indeed changed and it reflects on their relationship as well. Jimin returns from their dates feeling happy and content.

You don’t know why that feels like a punch in the gut.

Your lips tug into a forced smile. “Right… wait, why weren’t you okay?” you ask, finally realizing you have no recollection of that. If he had been feeling less than okay at Seokjin's party, you can’t recall.

Jimin laughs your worries off, even though the nervousness in his features is obvious. “It was nothing. I just… saw something I shouldn’t have…” is his evasive answer. His eyes find yours again and they don’t dare to avoid you. Neither do you.

There’s something tense between you, something unspoken. You don’t think you can take any more of this without going mad.

But Jimin’s gaze doesn’t deter. It remains on you, as his hands tighten on your waist. The traitorous fluttering of your heart progresses and you mask your trembling inhale just barely. And suddenly an unexpected yearning blooms inside your lungs. One that’s swallowing you whole, threatening to take hold of your reasoning, threatening to push you forward and-.

Another Just dance tutorial comes into the screen and causes you both to jump in surprise and break apart.

Warmth spreads through your cheeks as you realize what you were about to do.

You were about to lean in.

Jimin clears his throat, eyes searching for his phone and he checks the time. “Oh, shit, I promised Dinah I’d go over there after we’re done…” he mumbles and you can’t help the slight sting that grows in your chest.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead…” you wind up saying, “I mean there’s no one to judge so technically there’s no competition anymore…” you try to get rid of the uneasiness with a chuckle.

Jimin looks at you with a carefree smile as if nothing happened. And you don’t know what hurts more, Jimin’s nonchalance about it or that nothing actually happened.

“Great, then I’m off. Bye, see you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing his phone and keys before stepping out of the apartment.

You stand there in the middle of the living room, eyes stuck on the closed front door. Knowing he went to find her and your chest constricts painfully.

You place your palm to steady your beating heart but it does not work. Not at all. Not when you keep wondering, wishing it was you in her place.

With terror, you realize you’re in deep shit.

.

.

You avoid Jimin as much as you can after that. December progresses, people flooding the streets to either buy presents, meet up with loved ones or visit the Christmas market at the centre, spreading love and warmth through an otherwise cold period.

Sadly that liberated flux of emotion cannot penetrate your tough walls of “perpetual desolation”, as you had once drunkenly described, and paired with the newly-realized feelings for Jimin, it renders you a real-life Scrooge.

That’s how Wednesday finds you with Ana and Seokjin, holed up in a cosy, little coffee house while trying to plan out this year’s New Year’s party.

It’s been a tradition of some sorts for you and your friends to host a New Year’s party at Ana’s apartment, given it’s the most spacious one, inviting all the people you know to celebrate the start of the new year in the best way possible.

You normally would be really pumped up about organizing the event, getting a small taste of the thrill the party would be weeks before. But today your mind isn’t at all able to focus on the preparations. Not that you could focus on anything else besides Jimin since Saturday.

“Okay, I’m sorry but we have to stop. Y/N clearly isn’t paying attention,” Seokjin acts out, his loud whining succeeds in startling you and you finally turn around to realize both of your friends stare suspiciously at you.

Seokjin is just confused, you can tell but Ana’s eyes tell a different story.

That night, after Jimin left for Dinah’s, you immediately called your friend, voice full to the brim with panic as you explained with a nervous stutter what happened. What you had realized and she tried to provide comfort in the best way that she could. She came over with a tub of ice cream, ready to talk it out with you and figure out what your plan was going to be. You also plead with her not to tell Hoseok, the boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

So you’re left sitting here, trying to plan out a party and instead wondering what your course of action should be.

And also wanting to tell Seokjin, hoping he’d have something different to say than Ana. Her suggestion was not what you wanted to hear. Not in the slightest.

“What’s going on?” the man in question asks once he deciphers the mild look of despair in your eyes, voice a tad more empathetic than before.

Your eyes find Ana’s.

She lets out a sigh, before closing her notebook. “Guess I’ll have to say it then…” she muses and a grateful smile masks over your lips. It’s still quite difficult for you to wrap your head around this sudden, inconceivable situation, let alone utter it out loud.

Seokjin’s confusion reflects in the state of his eyebrows; scrunched in, twitching upwards as his eyes zero in on Ana.

Ana rolls her eyes, takes a breath and then-.

“Y/N realized she’s in love with Jimin.”

“Ana!” you protest with wide eyes at her choice of words, feeling your cheeks redden as Seokjin gasps in astonishment.

“Okay, okay, “likes” Jimin,” she reformulates although she doesn’t have you convinced she believes this.

“Jimin?!” the man’s wide eyes are filled with disbelief, mirroring your own sentiments about the current turn of events.

You nod quickly yet somehow bashfully as another gasp falls from Seokjin’s lips and Ana mumbles a quiet “I know”.

“What? How? Who? No, wait, we know who,” he cuts off himself but not for long, “When? When did your feelings change? Was it after your one-night special of passionate love-making? God I have so many questions!” his whole form is trembling with excitement, giddiness over the newly discovered news that leaves you sort of confused.

“I don’t know actually…” you mumble, overly self-conscious and yet you push yourself to continue, to pour out everything that came rushing over you in the last couple of days. Maybe it’ll help. “It feels more as if… as if those feelings were always there? Only I hadn't realised them until recently…” you mutter, eyes on your cup as you stir the now-cold americano.

It still amazes you how much of those words are real. You like your best friend and in some way, you think you always did. Though you guess you were too dense to ever really pay attention to that bubbling feeling in your chest every time he was near.

Not until Ana pointed it out.

“How did you realize it then?” Seokjin’s query is deceptively calm and you figure from the insistent nail-biting, he’s holding back to not scare you off. An act you greatly appreciate.

“Well, Ana and I had a talk the other day which gave me a lot to think about… And after spending some time with Jimin alone and I started to observe myself and my behaviour around him… how he made me feel… I realized it for what it was. For what it is…” you stare at your cup while stealing careful glances at Seokjin, who looks ready to burst with whatever he wants to say but refrains from doing so.

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “You can talk now.”

A loud gasp tears through his mouth before, “Oh my god, this is so exciting! I already ship it, you’re perfect for each other! If I’m being honest here I never made a move on you cause I also thought you had something going on with Jimin, oh sweet baby Jesus this ship is sailing itself. It’s canon! I-”

“Wait, Seokjin, I think you forget a very important detail,” Ana interrupts him, gaze stern as ever and Seokjin visibly hesitates.

“What?”

“Dinah,” Ana answers and Seokjin’s eyes glaze over with recognition before his shoulders drop.

“Oh, right…” he remembers solemnly and steals a glance at you full with guilt.

You smile although a bit saddened. “It’s okay…”

“But, Y/N… Are you actually in love with him? Or was this just something Ana said to tease you?” he regards you with wary eyes.

You rush to answer the question, minutes before so certain of your answer, only for your lips to remain shut with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I mean I thought it was just a crush but I’m not so sure anymore. He’s all I can think about, all I could think about even when I didn't know I liked him, something he said, or the way his voice changed, wondering what the cause of it was. I catch myself actively wishing to be in Dinah’s place, to be the one Jimin goes home to at the end of the day, the one to get to call him hers…” your feelings catch up with you and you find yourself needing a moment to breathe. A moment when you realize it’s not just some stupid crush.

You take a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’m screwed…” you say, the consequences of your breakthrough taking over you like a tidal wave, as you come to a startling conclusion. “I need to tell Jimin.”

Ana takes a tense breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you don’t listen, just like you didn’t after your talk. “I’m not expecting anything out of it so it’d be okay either way, then I can move on at last.”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Y/N, no, you don’t know how he’s gonna react! He’s not some rando you happen to stumble upon the same bar four nights a week. He’s your best friend with whom you live together. If things head south, it wouldn’t be as simple as just changing your hangout spot to avoid him! He’s always gonna be there.”

Her words sound ominous and, more frighteningly, reasonable, slightly wavering your resolve but you don’t back down just yet, turning a blind eye to the worst possible outcome even if the chances of that happening are so much more than the opposite. “It’s Jimin, no matter what happens between us, we always have managed to work through it.”

Ana sighs, eyes sad as she stares at you, once again having to fight her way through to make you see reason. “Honey, this is not as simple as him stealing your cereal…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, stubbornly refusing to let it go. “Yeah, but what if-”

“There’s no “what if” Y/N!” Ana lashes out, eyes wide half with irritation half with concern as both you and Seokjin are left to simply stare at her. “There’s no way to tell if he’s feeling the same and he’s currently dating Dinah, who he’s happy with! All you’re gonna achieve now is getting him all confused and uncertain. Do you realize how that may affect your friendship afterwards? Do you really wanna jeopardize what you have over a “what if”?” Ana’s rant is over and finally, you can’t hide behind your finger anymore as her words echo in your mind. Although there’s a large part of you that wishes to deny it, you admit with a heavy heart she is right.

You can’t tell Jimin. Not right now.

You bite your lip as you avert your eyes, trying to suppress your tears as you shake your head, to show you finally see reason. Even if it hurts like hell.

Ana sighs, regret filling her otherwise soft voice. “I’m sorry for being so blunt, if the situation was any different I would be right there with you, being the first to support you in your decision to tell him. But it’s not. And I just don’t want to see either of you getting hurt…” she confesses, as she reaches her hand out to tentatively cover your own.

You let her as you swallow the lump in your throat. The one that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

“I have to agree with Ana on this… I think it will be for the best if you didn’t tell him for now. But whatever you decide to do…. We’ll support you…” Seokjin adds with tender words, that Ana nods furiously to agree with, as he squeezes gently your other hand.

A sad smile manages to find its way onto your lips as you give them both a gentle and thankful glance.

“Thank you, guys…” your voice is barely audible. Then you shake your head, blinking the tears away and slap your cheeks to get rid of the choking in your throat.

“Okay, enough of this. Let’s go back to what we actually came here to do!” you exclaim with a smile and Ana and Seokjin smile back as they open their notebooks once more.

You might be going through a heartbreak but at least for now, you’ll be fine.

.

.

After that conversation, Ana and Seokjin took it upon themselves to help you find someone else, even if you told them a thousand times you weren’t interested.

Ana proposed Seokjin could give Namjoon your number but Seokjin was quick to inform you he was currently seeing someone. Ana tried to hook you up with a work friend but to be honest, there really was no spark with Youngjae so you gave up on that fairly easily. But there’s this guy you see a few times a week at your favourite coffee shop and just a few days ago he approached you asking for your number. At first, you were hesitant to give it but you knew Ana and Seokjin were right on the whole dating thing. If you want to get over Jimin, you need to give another person a chance. So you gave your number to Jaehyun and now, a week later after your talk with Ana and Seokjin, just two days before Christmas, you’re getting ready for your date. Seokjin had suggested you had the date at his restaurant and the probability of being somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable was like music to your ears.

In the meantime, your avoidance of Jimin hasn’t subsided. There are moments when you think he’s on to you, or that he thinks something’s weird but whenever he tries to bring it up, Seokjin or Ana or your disappearance halt him.

The truth is you hate it. It feels awful to avoid your best friend, it’s horrible pretending as if you don’t see the hurt in his eyes when you dismiss him. But you don’t trust yourself enough to not spill anything to him yet. And Ana was right, you can’t afford to risk it.

So that’s your plan for as long as needed. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Although when the front door closes with a loud bang, you have a feeling it’s not gonna be that easy today. Hoseok’s over at Ana’s as she promised to keep him there to give you and Jaehyun some privacy. So the only other possible explanation is Jimin returning earlier from his date.

You peak out of your bedroom to see him marching down the hall. His eyes stare stubbornly, intensely at the floor as if they try to burn holes through the carpet as his heavy steps boom through the apartment. That vein in his forehead is pulsing, threatening to burst at any moment, his lips pulled into an angry frown as he takes off his jacket. He tries to rip it off with hasty movements as if it’s something tangled to him, choking him.

“Jimin, is everything okay…?” you ask cautiously as he still struggles with his jacket in front of his bedroom.

He curses through clenched teeth, ripping the jacket off his hand with one sharp movement. “Yeap. Everything’s okay. More than okay! Perfect! Everything’s perfect!” he exclaims, even though the irony in his voice doesn’t do much to convince you.

“...Do… you wanna talk about it?” your voice is careful, wishing quite selfishly and guiltily he doesn’t, because you know if he does want, there’s no chance you’ll be able to deny him, date or no date. 

He huffs before searching for his phone. “What’s there to talk about? That my girlfriend is a successful doctor that apparently gets paged in the middle of our date? That children need her and I can't complain? That I’m searching for my phone and I can’t fucking find it?!” he bursts before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Your stomach flips uncomfortably in response to the hurt hiding in Jimin's eyes. His face is filled with worries, marking the space between his eyebrows and you want to smooth your thumb over the lines. Your chest constricts in a bothersome matter when you spot his glassy eyes. It’s not an image you like to see on him.

So, against your better judgement, you do what you’ve tried so long not to.

You talk to him.

“You’re not a bad person for feeling angry. As long as you don’t put the blame on her you’re okay. It’s normal. You just want to spend some time with your girlfriend…” you respond, trying to hide the sadness colouring your voice at the word “girlfriend”, as you walk out of your room into the hallway to talk properly to your friend.

His eyes, filled with something akin to shame, find yours and you wanna wipe that frown from his lips with yours.

But you control yourself. You’re not an animal.

“Also, check your jacket…” you point at the article of clothing with a soft smile, and as he follows your advice, he gives you a small, closed-lip smile. But it’s still a smile.

With a tired chuckle, he finds his phone in one of the pockets and shakes his head before his eyes find yours. Although as they land on your form, the chuckle fades out, confusion written on his skin.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, pointing to the mini black dress you’re wearing and sudden heat scorches through your cheeks.

“I, uhm… Yeah, on a date…” you chuckle nervously, rubbing your arm, eyes on your feet. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m going, the guy’s too hot for me…” you try to joke but Jimin has none of it.

“Bullshit, you’re too hot for him! You always do that, you put yourself down, thinking you’re not good enough, but Y/N, they’re not good enough for you! You’re amazing, funny, smart, kind and, yeah, sometimes grumpy as hell, but you deserve more than feeling like one of someone’s many choices. You’re the only one. So treat yourself like one as well.” Jimin interjects, voice serious and kinda fed up but his last words soften. He looks at you with such tenderness you can almost pretend he feels the same. You can almost pretend he wants you too.

Almost.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, sport…” you respond with a chuckle, trying to chase the tension away, but Jimin’s eyes won’t budge. They seem uncertain as if he’s trying to figure out something, but their intensity only tortures you more and you have to say something to break free from them.

“Uhm, yeah so I have to go now…” you move back to your room to get your purse and coat and Jimin’s eyes finally move away from you with a cough.

“Yeah, uhm… Yeah, of course…” he rushes to say, eyes fidgeting anywhere but close to you as he struggles to open his door.

“...Unless you want me to cancel?” you propose, knowing full well if he says yes, there’s no way you can say no to him. And that Ana is probably gonna beat your ass.

Jimin almost chokes at that, face flushing, turning his body towards you yet his eyes look at the floor. “What? Why? Why would I want you to cancel?” he stutters, eyes fidgeting between you and his door.

“Well, I figured you’d want to talk some more about Dinah…” you say softly, thinking you must have hit a nerve on his pride but he visibly relaxes at your words.

“Oh, uhm, no, don't worry about it, I’ll be fine. Go enjoy your date, and say hi to Seokjin from me,” he responds with a smile, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But before you get to ask him if he’s sure, or how he knows the date is at Seokjin’s restaurant, he’s already hiding in his room, behind his closed door.

You sigh. Maybe he wants to be alone. To be alone and think it over by himself. Yeah, he’ll be okay.

You don’t do a good job of convincing yourself as you put on your coat and walk to the front door.

He’ll be fine.

.

.

20 minutes later, you find your way back into the apartment, throwing your keys on the glass bowl next to the door, taking your shoes off in front of a very confused and suspicious Jimin who watches a movie on the couch.

You take off your coat and plop yourself down next to him, as he keeps on watching you weirdly.

You pick up some of his popcorn, before. “What are we watching?”

Jimin presses his lips together in a poor attempt to conceal the grin threatening to spill all over his lips before he schools his face into a strict expression. “I told you I’d be okay…”

Your eyes are glued to the TV as you feign ignorance. “I know. And I didn’t bail out on him. He did,” you said, sudden interest in the movie piqued.

Jimin’s eyes widen, shuffling on his spot with newly found vigour. “What? You want me to talk to him for you?”

That takes you by surprise. You turn to look at him only to see his eyes stuck to you, as serious as ever. Does he even know Jaehyun?

Oh god, he shouldn’t talk to him.

“Ah, no, no, he didn’t do it on purpose! He just… had somewhere to go. We’ll just reschedule,” you reply knowing full well you’re not gonna do that.

Even if Jaehyun was entirely too eager to do that when you told him you had a family emergency.

Truth is you didn’t drive too far before you yielded and texted Jaehyun to cancel. Thinking Jimin would’ve been stuck at home alone and sulking didn’t sit well with you.

Jimin’s suspiciousness doesn’t leave his eyes but he visibly relaxes. “Oh, if you’re okay then…” he simply says before his smile reappears. Then he goes on to answer your previous question, informing you about the movie playing in the background.

You rest your chin on your palm as you listen to him intently. Absorbed by the excitement in his voice, the glint in his eyes as he explains the plot to a movie he clearly enjoys. His cheeks are flushed, heated up by how quickly he’s talking, voice melodic and excited. His hair falls on top of his forehead, messy and shiny, moving slightly with every tilt of his head when he’s thinking over something. His lips form a pout when he’s uncertain over a specific detail but the truth is you don’t care.

Not about the movie.

.

.

It’s towards the end of the movie when you feel Jimin turning towards you.

You copy his actions, turning to face your best friend with a questioning glint in your eyes. “Spill it out, champ.”

Jimin smiles at your words, resting one arm at the back of the couch, behind you. “I just wanted to thank you for staying-”

You gasp, once again pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. “I told you the date got cancelled, I had to come back! Didn’t you listen, you dingus?”

Jimin’s smile widens, looking away with a low chuckle. “Right…” he says, though not looking very much convinced. “Even so… you being here means a lot, so thank you…” he concludes with soft eyes, a kind of tenderness you’re not used to seeing reflecting in his gaze, at least not directed towards you. But it’s not foreign, not even one bit.

A gentle smile graces your lips as you answer. “Of course. You’re my best friend,” you respond in an as-a-matter-of-fact way while you give him a playful nudge on the ribs.

He chuckles, eyes falling to his lap. “You know, I might be joking about regretting being your friend when you annoy the shit out of me…” you both laugh at that, as you shuffle in your spot, “but if I’m grateful for anything in my life is the years you’ve been a part of it. I wouldn’t risk our friendship for anything. You’re the best friend I could ever have and I hope I’m at least half as good a friend to you,” he concludes, words filled with emotion, even though his voice is serene and soothing.

The display of emotion tugs at your heartstrings but when it’s your turn to return them words fail you. You can’t even begin to put what Jimin means to you into words, newly-discovered feelings put aside. What his friendship means to you, what those years spent together made you cope through and how they changed you, those things are bigger than the strict barrier of words.

So, you do what every self-respected awkward human being would do.

You joke about it.

“Did you swallow a Barbie DVD or something? Where did that come from?” you chuckle in borderline embarrassment, as you try to get off the couch.

“No, Y/N, I’m serious,” he reacts, voice stern as he rests his palm on your leg to stop you from leaving. 

Though both pairs of eyes widen at that.

Because you never changed out from the mini black dress and when you moved earlier the fabric had ridden up your thighs.

So now Jimin’s palm lays on the top part of your smooth, bare thigh.

Instant heat washes over you, as you barely manage to mask the gasp bubbling up in your throat. Your eyes fall to his fingers, not daring to meet his gaze as you feel the warmth of his skin spreading through to yours.

Your heart beats wildly inside your chest and there’s a certain, familiar discomfort in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t move his hand. You can feel his eyes on you and there are goosebumps where his gaze trails on your skin.

You let your eyes find his own.

You’re not at all ready.

Not for the darkness in them, not for the haziness and tension, certainly not for the dark part in you that tells you there’s more to them than those things. No, not for the intensity and lust hidden in their dark depths.

No, you’re not ready.

But their existence is as tangible as it could ever be.

You can’t move, not an inch and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You’d choose not to. The heat in his stare sends chills down your arms, your cheeks scorching and your gaze falls to his plump lips, a sharp yet quiet inhale escaping you at just a small peek of his tongue.

And then you swear you feel-.

“Sup, guys? How have you been?” Hoseok’s voice fills the apartment as he steps inside from the front door. The sound of his cheerful entrance has you both instantly jumping away from each other in panic.

“Uhm, fine, we’ve been fine!” you struggle to reply, voice an octave higher as Jimin looks away and nods with you.

Hoseok takes off his shoes nonchalantly, not having a single clue about the thick tension in the air when he notices your outfit. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Did you go somewhere?”

You swallow nervously, foot tapping the floor. “Ah, yeah, I had a date…”

Hoseok looks ever more confused now for some unknown reason. “You did?” he asks, eyes moving to Jimin.

Jimin rushes to explain. “It got cancelled.”

“Ah… I see,” Hoseok replies as if somehow this makes more sense.

But you’re too preoccupied with Jimin’s proximity to question Hoseok’s reaction, instead focusing on trying to appear calm and not at all flustered and worked up as you are. You stand up from the couch as calmly as you can. Though you admit it’s not very much calmly. “Uh, yeah, so anyways I should go change. Goodnight guys!” you mumble quickly, eager to escape and you run off to your room.

Hoseok’s confusion is back when you disappear into your room and he turns to Jimin who also gets up and discreetly readjusts his pants. “What’s up with her?”

“Wouldn’t know. Actually, I’m quite sleepy too, so goodnight!” Jimin rushes to exclaim and then he’s off, walking rushedly towards his room.

Leaving Hoseok alone in the living room and baffled as hell.

.

.

Your legs can’t take you into your bedroom any faster and you rush to close the door with a slight lightness of breath.

Oh, god.

What just happened?

Your knees still feel weak, legs trembling and you immediately sit on the floor. Not trusting your limbs to carry you as far as your bed is, eyes and mouth wide in shock as you bring your hands to cool your heated cheeks.

You’re not crazy, you couldn’t have imagined this. You swear it wasn’t just your wishful thinking. No matter how much you want this, there’s no way your mind could have imagined such an intense way of staring. His eyes seemed like black holes, swallowing you whole and you would’ve gladly let him if Hoseok hadn’t interrupted.

Which reminds you. Right before Hoseok walked in you’re certain you felt the edges of his fingertips moving. And not away, as if belatedly realizing of his slip up.

Moving upwards.

“Fuck…” is your breathless realization, biting your lip as heat pools between your thighs. Making you reminisce of your little rendez-vous eight months ago and all the ways he made you feel, of how he felt pressed against you, inside you, drawing moans out of your lips as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

How his mouth felt against your skin.

You slap some sense into yourself.

No! What were you thinking?! What was he thinking?! He has a girlfriend! A girlfriend whose sudden departure had him feeling upset merely hours ago. Maybe this behaviour was just a cry for attention caused by this event and you shouldn’t encourage it.

There was attraction, that is true. If there wasn’t any attraction between the two of you, you wouldn’t have slept together all those months ago in the first place. But this is not the time, nor the place. Not when he has a girlfriend and not when your feelings are so much more than just that.

It’s bad news and you gotta do your best to nip it in the bud. Crush it before the frustration gets any stronger and threatens to take hold of your sanity.

You let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs. As if the fresh air could bring a new sense of logic, resolve and determination to help you get through this unscathed.

You get up off the floor to get ready for sleep.

.

.

Only, it’s close to 4 am and you still can’t sleep.

You fuss around in your bed, the rustling of the sheets the only sound breaking the otherwise calm serenity of your dark bedroom.

You huff in annoyance, throwing the covers off of you, suddenly too warm for your liking. You’ve been trying to sleep for three hours now, but instead of blissful numbness, when your eyes close your mind is filled with the look in Jimin’s eyes from this afternoon. Turning you on despite your best efforts.

You sit up, back on your headboard, hands crossing over your chest as you tap your fingers on your arm. The shorts you wear to sleep feel uncomfortably stifling with sweat and you shuffle quickly out of them.

Only a particular movement has you clenching your thighs from the pleasurable friction on your clit and you bite your lip to keep the moan from spilling out.

Jimin’s dark eyes come to mind once more.

You inhale deeply, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, now dressed in only that and your panties. You bite your lip once more in thought and concealed shame.

You shouldn’t.

But your inhibitions don’t stop you from recalling that night.

{{You throw another shot down with a blissful smile as you watch Jimin do the same, only with significantly less enthusiasm than you. It’s already been one hour since you’ve been here, drinking your guts to help him move on, and already two girls walked away from him. It might be the way he slouches on the bar, droopy face that screams “recently dumped and still in love” but you refuse to leave here tonight without Jimin getting laid. Or at least having some fun.

“Come on, I’m sure someone else will approach you!” you nudge him playfully and Jimin scoffs as he proceeds to order another drink.

“Yeah, right. If anything I’ll just make a fool of myself again…” he grumbles, eyes focused on the empty shot glasses on the bar.

You throw an arm around his shoulders, determined to cheer him up. “Well, it’s because you’ve gotten rusty, bud! Give it some time, you’ll get better!” you observe vigorously, poking his cheek but the gloom expression doesn’t abandon him.

“I don’t think I will…” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do.

“What? Why?” your perplexion is audible in your words and Jimin lets out a breath.

“I just… I don’t get why would anyone bother to approach me. What’s there to like anyway…?” he admits quietly. His eyes avoid yours but you can see the sorrow, the defeat lacing their edges. The response fills you with unbridled rage over how her insistent verbal abuse has seeped into his mind and made him question himself and his worth like this.}}

Even now, that rage hasn’t subsided completely, finding yourself getting pissed at how much his previous relationship with Dinah had ruined him.

{{“Follow me for a second,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag him out of his stool to a more quiet place of the bar.

You step into the hallway that leads to the rooftop with a pretty begrudging Jimin trailing after you. The corridor is currently devoid of people, hence rendering it the perfect spot for what you're about to say.

“Why are we here?” Jimin asks like a weary teenager, crossing his arms on his chest as he rests his body on the wall.

“We’re here because you’re a freaking idiot and people would’ve probably stared if I laid it on you back there! You seriously cannot believe there’s nothing likeable about you!” you scold him with your hands on your waist.

Jimin’s eyes fall to his shoes, a pout forming on his lips.

“Well, there isn’t…” he responds genuinely and you swear you’re gonna swat him with a broom.

“Well, better buckle up soldier ‘cause I’m about to send your princely ass to confidence town,” you declare with ferocity and Jimin regards you with a confused but amused smile.

“So am I a soldier or a prince, I’m confused.”

“You’re both, you’re a prince who served on the front line in the dragon war,” you respond, deciding to humour him, seeing at least that brings a smile back on his lips.

“Is that from your book?” he asks back, a very carefully-hidden smirk gracing his face.

“No, it’s not, I- Hey!” you stop once you realize what he’s been doing, “Stop distracting me! Now stop and listen to me you bastard!” you point your finger at him and his smile shows he’s not in the least sorry.

“People go crazy about you everywhere you go! Seriously you’re the most likeable person I know, I could see that even back in high school when we didn’t hang out as much! You’re just… You’re the most perfect human being ever!” you exclaim with zeal, desperate to make your best friend see himself as you do.

Jimin shakes his head even if a small blush starts to bloom on his cheeks. “Now you’re just messing with me…”

“No I’m not!” you interject, taking a step closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’re the kindest and smartest, I mean you passed your college exams with flying colours!” a shy smile graces his lips at that, “And on top of that, you’re so handsome! I mean look at your lips dude! People literally pay to get their lips like this!” an impromptu laugh escapes him and resonates in the empty hall, “And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh is just plain adorable, but on the other hand girls - and guys - would kill to lick those abs, or have a grasp at your pecs,” you cite all of Jimin’s great characteristics, but in your desire to show him how perfect he is, a slight slip of the tongue happens.

“And your thighs-” you begin but instantly stop, regret filling your mind as soon as you realise what you were about to say.

Truth is you always had a weakness for his thighs. You admit, his body is pretty phenomenal as a whole but his thighs, in particular, are a certain weak spot for you. In shame, you admit you fantasized about them trapping you between them more than once.

But, alas, Jimin catches on that and he stands up straight, a questioning look in his eyes.

“What about my thighs…?” he asks curiously, eyes regarding you with interest as they dare you to continue. You swallow nervously and the movement has Jimin’s eyes glint with sudden realization. 

“Um, they… um,” you lose your train of thought as the look in his eyes changes to something darker and he takes a step closer.

“They are...um, toned!...” you say in relief at finding a pretty innocent word but Jimin doesn’t slow down. You take a step back.

“And…?” he demands, not at all satisfied by your explanation, unrelenting and asking for more. He takes another step forward to cover your own, diminishing the distance between you.

“And firm and… sturdy…” you mumble as if in a daze as the predatory glint in his eyes only grows.}}

In real-time, the look in Jimin’s eyes matches the one from earlier tonight and you rub your thighs together for some needed relief.

{{“And…?” he asks, voice low and commanding as he effectively traps you against the wall, palms resting on each side of your face, dark eyes pinning you in place.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling a sudden emptiness between your legs as your eyes fall to his plump lips.

“And... thick…” you finish softly, breathlessly as your chest moves quickly with each intake of breath, struggling to keep your head straight.}}

Your hands find their way down your body as if they have a mind of their own.

{{“So you like my thighs then…” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips, a soft gasp rolling off your tongue.

“I- I don’t…” you don’t even manage to convince yourself and the predatory smile returns on his lips.}}

Your hand rests on the hem of your underwear.

{{“Really?... So…” he trails off, smirk ever-present as he slowly moves his right leg. “... it wouldn’t matter if I did this?....” he teases and presses his thigh against your clothed centre.}}

They move the article of clothing aside to press at your aching clit.

{{You don’t manage to conceal the gasp that trudges over to a moan, as his toned muscle presses against your panty-clad clit underneath your skirt. Your hands fly to grab at his biceps and a low chuckle falls from his lips as his face lowers towards your neck.

Your cunt clenches over nothing and your hips buck into his thigh desperately.

“Do you want more…?” he whispers with a tantalizing hum, intimately beneath your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

You feel his thigh flexing against you as if teasing you about what’s to come if you say yes.

In your drunken and lust infused mind you can’t find a single reason to say no.}}

Your fingers move slowly, rolling the swollen nub between them as a quiet sigh breaks free from your lips, remembering the way his thigh felt against you. Your movements are soft, careful, not wanting to rush it as even more memories flood your mind.

{{It doesn’t take long for Jimin to take you home after you say yes. You drive back in his car, barely keeping your hands to yourself as he drives. It takes all your willpower not to make him stop the car and ride him in the middle of the street. Instead, you only let one hand palm him through his jeans and the other dive beneath your skirt to toy with your folds. Pleasuring both of you at the same time and having Jimin going completely mad with want, a promise hiding in his eyes as he drives.

Once you reach your building, you’re immediately on each other, not caring who might see. You climb up the old stairs in a haze, hands exploring each other’s bodies, grabbing at the tender part, lips tracing the exposed skin until you reach your apartment. Your back hits the front door, a moan rolling off your tongue and Jimin swallows it eagerly as his lips devour yours.

His hands are rough at your hips, grinding his crotch against you, your bare thighs rubbing against the roughness of his jeans as you blindly search for your keys.

“Could you- could you stop for a second and help me get the door…” you mumble against his mouth when your fingers finally grasp at the metallic key in your pocket.

Jimin doesn’t stop kissing you though. “Honestly, I don’t mind fucking you senseless against it,” he growls at you, biting your bottom lip as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck…” the image his words paint arouse you a great deal more than what you’d like to admit. Your head hits the door as the image floods your mind.

“No, we can’t…” you say, still somehow self-conscious, “People might see…” you mumble with closed eyes as Jimin leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collar bones.

“Let them see then…” he responds with confidence as he grips at your chin and forces you to look at him.

His eyes are hooded, completely dark under his heavy gaze on you. He licks his lips as he stares at you like he wants to ravish you and you lean your head down to capture his thumb between your lips.

You stare at him innocently through your eyelashes, sucking the digit into your mouth. Jimin’s eyes widen even more. You roll your tongue teasingly around him, making sure your eyes remain on him, as he breathes heavily and then you let it go with a loud “pop”.

Jimin stares back at you. Tongue running across his bottom lip before-.

“Fuck, okay, okay. I changed my mind. I don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.” he curses softly, before taking the keys from your hands to open the door.}}

Your fingers are faster now, soft whimpers falling from your lips. Too quiet for anyone to hear as your other hand travels beneath your T-shirt to grasp at your breast.

{{You’re a mess of limbs and kisses as you stumble towards Jimin’s room. Jackets have been discarded somewhere in the living room and you don’t even bother on closing the door. Hoseok’s is bound to spend the evening at Ana’s, so you don’t have to worry about being quiet either. You have the place to yourselves.

“I want to suck you off, can I suck you off?” you mumble between kisses, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You can’t wait to feel the weight of his length on your tongue and judging by how he’s straining against his jeans you’d say he can’t wait either.

Another curse rolls from his tongue as he rushes to help you undo the last few buttons. “Yes. Fuck yes,” he grunts in anticipation once his shirt is off.

You push him to sit at the edge of his bed, too impatiently. You kneel between his legs, hands running up and down his thighs as he leans back, palms supporting his weight against the mattress as he stares at you lazily, biting his lip.

You let your eyes wander over the expanse of his smooth chest, taking in the sight of his sturdy muscles, his perked up nipples and his sculpted abs. A high pitched whine escapes you at how absolutely perfect he is. You want to ruin him.

Jimin smirks lazily at you. “Like what you see?”

You only nod, licking your lips and indulging yourself.

You move upwards carefully, placing a few butterfly kisses against his chest, letting your tongue roll over his nipples, which he greatly appreciates if his loud moans are anything to get by.}}

You roll one perked nipple beneath your fingertips. A quiet moan comes off your lips in response and you buck your hips into your hand, aching for something more.

{{You move lower, letting your tongue trail the edges of his abs. The warm muscle drives the man insane by the traitorous pace it takes as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

His hand winds up tangled in your hair, threading through the lock to tug softly at the roots and making you groan in arousal.

You’re quick in unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them downwards until they’re off. Anticipation rolls over you in waves as you move to the waistband of his boxers and Jimin tucks some strands away from your face.

You let his cock spring free and it taps against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight. Pulsating veins run down its shaft, its head a pretty pink, tip glistening with precum and you lick your lips with wanton. He’s not very big, not in length, but the size of his girth seems to compensate for that more than enough. He’s thick, thicker than what you’re used to and even if you had some lengthier ones, you’re sure this one will put them all to shame.

Jimin’s patience runs low and a low whine echoes in his dulcet voice.

“Don’t just stare at it…” he mumbles and for the first time since the club, he sounds almost shy. Something which makes your stomach flip in arousal.

A smirk meets his eyes as you lower your head, his hand still in your locks and you take a tentative lick at the tip.

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, eyes never abandoning you or your movements as you rest your hands at his thighs for leverage. You keep on teasing him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your palms and a crooked smile paints your lips.

You lower your mouth again, taking his head into your wet cavern and a soft moan breaks free from Jimin’s lips. His hand tightens its grip at your hair, nudging softly forward, not enough to be forceful but enough to clue you into what he wants.

Instead, you hollow your cheeks and a sharp gasp escapes him.}}

Finally, you move your underwear aside to tease your entrance and proceed to insert one finger into your throbbing cunt.

{{You begin moving your head up and down his length slowly, torturously and his eyes roll back into his head as it lols back. You don’t increase your pace, letting your jaw adjust to his wide girth, slowly letting each inch delve into your mouth. 

“Fuck…, you-” Jimin tries to talk only for another gasp to tear through his lips as you take him deeper. Coating him with your saliva and hollowing your cheeks again. He moans loudly, his hand rolling your hair into a fist, tugging at the roots as you take him fully, feeling him resting heavily on your tongue.

You pick up the pace steadily, bobbing your head and nails digging into the unmarred skin of his thighs. A hiss tumbles from his mouth in response.

You readjust your position to take off your shirt and bra. You then put more weight into your knees to give your full focus on sucking him off. You keep your cheeks hollowed, going faster and faster, a sturdy grip on Jimin’s bare thighs as your eyes remain stuck on his face.

You swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Jimin’s face as he drowns in pleasure. His eyes are tightly shut, scrunched in concentration to not miss the feeling of your mouth on him. His mouth is agape as he struggles to breathe properly, soft gasps escaping his mouth instead.

It strikes you hard; how magnificently ruined he looks. How absolutely wrecked you have him, and the stickiness in your underwear grows knowing he looks like this because of you.

Then he opens his eyes lazily, orbs lost in desire and as they rest on your bare tits, his hips instinctively buck into your mouth with a cry before he stops himself.}}

You take a quick break to stop yourself from finishing too early and instead pay attention back to your clit.

{{“Fuck, stop for a second…” he breathes out harshly, pushing you away from his cock as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Why?” you say thoroughly confused and Jimin chuckles breathlessly at your puppy stare. He then moves forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Cause I was about to cum on your tits and I’d rather do that inside you…” he whispers against your mouth and you find yourself biting your lip to suppress a moan.

“Now please let me taste you…” he mumbles seductively as he forces you up. You stand up in front of him, his head in level with your breasts. His eyes stare up at you, wide and deceptively innocent before he wraps his mouth around one nipple and rolls it with his tongue. You gasp out loud, arching your chest against him for more. His fingers graze your thighs in the meantime, moving upwards to wrap around your underwear and get rid of it, leaving you bare beneath your skirt.

“I don’t…” another gasp interrupts your words as he runs a finger through your folds. “I don’t think I have the patience for that…” you stutter, hips rolling over his fingers.

A harsh suck at your nipple has you crying out loud, grabbing at Jimin’s locks. While he drives two fingers in you, without warning.

“Fuck, Jimin!” your high pitched protest resonates around the apartment and Jimin curses, moving the two fingers slowly inside you.

“Fuck, you take my fingers so well, baby…” he murmurs against your chest, his low timbre sounding like heaven in your ears. His fingers move slowly against your walls, just barely find your g-spot that has you seeing stars.

“You’re so wet, look at you…” he brings the two fingers between you. They glisten in the soft light of his nightstand, strands of your arousal connecting the two digits as he moves them into a V shape. He stares at them, mesmerised before pushing one digit into his mouth. He moans at the taste, before pushing the other finger towards your lips.

Instead, you grasp at both fingers and suck at them obediently, making sure to suck all your slick from his fingers. Your eyes remain on Jimin, whose eyes almost roll in bliss.

“Okay. Fuck, okay. Get that skirt off and get on the bed,” comes his urgent reply as he all but throws you on the mattress after the skirt has joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You lay across his sheets, spreading your legs wide for him and Jimin all but falls on his face trying to take off his boxers, making you giggle in response.

Once they’re off, his movements are more smooth as he steps on to the bed. His eyes are dark, swimming in a pool of desire, never straying away from your face as he crawls towards you. His hands rest on each side of your head, hips pressing against your own as his eyes fall to your lips.

You’re breathing heavily underneath him, chest brushing against him with every breath and you arch your back to press closer against him.

“Do you have a condom…?” you say before biting softly at his earlobe, your hand wrapping sloppily around his thick length.

He bucks into your palm desperately before he nods. He reaches his hand on his nightstand, never leaving the warmth of your body, and grabs the foil package. You take it from him and rip it open with your teeth, too fucked out to wait and Jimin gapes at you as you pretend not to notice the twitch on his dick.

You roll it on him as he lets out a long breath and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Are you sure about this…?” he asks cautiously, giving you one last chance to step back.

You grab at his neck to push him downwards into a kiss. Your lips are rough against him and he presses further, letting his tongue dive into your mouth to find your own. Your kiss is sloppy, urgent, not caring for tenderness. Getting you even more aroused as Jimin instinctively rolls his hips against yours.

“Okay, got it,” is his answer to your kiss. His hand grasps at his cock and giving it a few pumps before sheathing inside you with one sharp thrust.}}

You let two of your fingers dive inside you at the memory, drawing a long moan, quiet enough to be heard only in the confinements of your own room.

{{Both of you moan loudly at the intrusion, feeling complete and utter fullness with the way Jimin is pulsating inside you. It takes a while to get used to him, breathing slowly to help yourself relax as Jimin presses soft kisses to the skin above your breasts.

Soon though his kisses turn hungrier, messier, bordering into bites and you can’t help but moan and clench at the sensation.

Jimin hisses and reacts with another sharp thrust, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure.

He starts a brutal pace, slow but rough deliberate thrusts, moving you further into the bed.

He pushes your legs on your chest in a new position, as he leans on top of you and drives his cock even deeper into you. He hits your g-spot almost repeatedly, having you crying out and your eyes well up by how good it feels.

“Fuck, Jimin, fuck, don’t stop…” you cry breathlessly even though Jimin doesn’t seem like stopping anytime soon.}}

In real-time, you pick up the pace of your fingers, driving them deeper to press against your g-spot, as you keep panting upon your sheets.

{{“Fuck. You. Feel. So. Good.” he punctuates each word with a thrust, as they come out in loud, rough growls, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as precipitation gathers at his temples, wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

You cry out in ecstasy with every rough snap of his hips, shifting your hips to feel more of him, desperate for as much as he can give.

Then Jimin stands upright, grabbing your legs to push them into his chest and away from your own, wrapping around them and using them as leverage. His movements don't stop and he grunts lowly with each thrust, making you see stars each time he hits your g-spot.

He pants above you, driving his hips deeper into you, his muscles taut as he flexes his thighs and his thrusts become even rougher.

“Shit, Jimin…” you plead yet you don’t know what for as his motions make your body move up and down against the mattress.

“What is it, baby? Tell me,” he hisses, eyes furrowed as he stares at your lips. “I’ll give it to you…” he grunts, his thrusts now matching his pants, hands getting tighter at the supple flesh of your hips.

“Jimin, please…” you whine, driving your hand to tap on your clit to clue him in.

He curses again, bating your hand away for one of his own to land against your nub and begin rubbing circles into it.}}

You remove your other hand from your chest to press at your clit as you drive two fingers harshly into your soaked pussy with the other. You feel your high approaching and you don’t dare stop.

{{You scream in pleasure at the added friction, legs moving as Jimin releases them to wrap around his waist. You drive your heels against his ass to press his cock further into you.

“How are you so fucking wet for me, huh? Did my thighs turn you on this much, baby?” he asks harshly as his fingers pick up their pace, sending you into a wholly new sensation.

You moan out loud at his words, nodding your head quickly as if you’ve gone mad. “Yes, fuck, Jimin. I love your thighs, love how thick they are. Wanna rub my cunt all over them, want my clit to go numb with how hard I rub it on them. Want my folds to leak on top of them and stain your jeans. Fuck!” you yelp when your words have Jimin giving a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck, yeah baby that’s right. Those thighs are gonna make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he hisses from above you, spreading your legs, the stretch burning delightful as another groan falls from your hips.

Finally, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, high-pitched moans echoing inside the room and your cunt begins clenching uncontrollably.

Jimin realises this as his hips move even harder against yours and his fingers are relentless on your clit. “Are you gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum like the dirty little slut you are?”

His words send you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.}}

You repeat the words over and over in your head until you’re a sobbing mess and come harder than you ever did before pressing your palm on your mouth to prevent any noise from getting out.

You lay on your bed spent and breathless, the memory ebbing away once you’re satisfied and your limbs are relaxed in a blissful numbness.

But, that soon also ebbs away, giving its spot to shame.

You just rubbed one off to Jimin.

And yeah okay you did sleep with him once, but you hadn’t used the memories to pleasure yourself before.

Oh god, this is getting out of hand.

You gotta end this crush of yours before it devours you.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, #25 siren for Sternclay, rating up to you? Thank you so much, I love your fics!

Here you go! I went with SFW and it's set in the same universe as the other siren prompt I got this year

Joseph has sailed so far over the horizon of regret that he’s landed right back on the shores of resolve.

The highway curves through low mountains, extends in interminable straight lines of super-heated asphalt, and he drives both stretches with purpose, eyes fixed on his goal so as not to see the last forty-eight hours lurking in his rearview mirror.

When the sign reading “Kepler: Population 3,000 on land, 50 in water” reflects the setting sun he slumps back in the driver seat, too tired to be glad, excited, afraid, or anything else at all.

He passes the Cryptonomica, proclaiming itself the premier place to learn about the Roadside Sirens. Rolling his eyes means he nearly misses the drawbridge warning, the barrier dropping and bridge rising to allow a small sailboat to pass. It’s aboard this he sees his first siren; dappled tail hanging in the water as she converses with the other passenger and waves to the siren working the bridge.

The bridge lowers and he continues forward as the early evening overtakes the main road. Neon crackles to life, creosote and rabbitbrush drift through the window when he rolls it down. The sign on Amnesty Lodge declares vacancies, so he pulls into the parking lot. It’s a strange lay-out, little cabins dotting the patches of pools that, once upon a time, must have been enclosed in rooms. Now they glisten under the emerging stars, some surrounded by lawn chairs and set ups to play horseshoes or cornhole. The building housing the lobby is precariously perched on the bank of the slow flowing river, another building whose neon is unlit sitting beside it. He pays the young lady at the counter for a week to week cabin and lugs the remainders of his life inside.

In the bathroom mirror, the wear of this trip is clear in the wrinkles on his suit and the dust on his shoes. He strips down, rinses off, and heads into the night in his shorts and T-shirt from Puget Sound. On a whim he turns right, follows a trail that leads him into the state park. He pays the five dollar fee in a little envelope as he continues on his way. Just as he reaches a scenic viewpoint, the singing starts.

Joseph can’t see any of the singers, can only pick up six or so distinct voices swirling around him.

It’s said the roadside sirens will tell you what you need.

It’s said the roadside sirens are the only way Kepler gets new residents

It’s said the roadside sirens will lead you to your hearts desire.

It’s said the roadside sirens are not always gentle.

All that tugs at Joseph’s heart is exhaustion. When footsteps creak across the boards behind him, he turns to find a man in a ranger uniform. Their eyes meet a moment and the man nods in greeting, “Evenin sir, you got any questions?”

“What do you hear when they sing?”

The ranger shrugs, “I hear them singin’. Never been all that susceptible to ‘em. Well, except for one, but he don’t sing all that often and the last time it was to tell me he missed me while I was out here workin’.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow. The man comes close enough for him to see his name tag. All it says is, “Duck.”

Duck chuckles, leans his arms on the railing, “S’okay, most folks don’t believe me when I tell ‘em that. See, thing about sirens is, you gotta have unfulfilled desires for the song to take hold. First time I was in Kepler, didn’t have a goddamn clue what I wanted from life. When I came back, found the two things I wanted right away. Been pretty content since.” He glances at Joseph, “why, you hear somethin that worries you?”

“I don’t hear anything besides-”

A burst of blue and orange light spills across them; the building beside Amnesty Lodge has come to life, and Joseph can see a line out the door from here. More importantly, someone is singing and his body moves towards the source without him noticing.

“I mean, if your main want is you’re hungry, Lodge is a damn good place to start. Put Kepler on the map. Or, uh, guess the sirens put it there and the Lodge kept it there once the novelty wore off.

“Uhumm” Joseph nods, waving an absentminded goodnight as he follows the path back to the Lodge. He’s about to join the others waiting to get through the door when he gets a flash of an image; a draft on a desk, announcing the Lodge needed a cooks assistant.

What the hell, it’s worth a try right?

A knock on the back door summons an older man in a “Joshua Tree” shirt.

“Howdy, if you’re lookin for the line-”

“I’m here about the assistant job.”

“Uhh, o-kay. Not the best time for it, but follow me.”

The man leads him down a set of stairs to a kitchen that is half in and half out of the water in a way that defies logic and physics. Swimming about are several sirens, plus two humans on the shore, cooking and sending food up to the main building in a dance that borders on chaos. In the middle of it all is a siren with a deep copper tail that matches his short beard and long hair tied back in a bun.

“Barclay! You got a minute?”

“Not really!”

“Okay then. I’ll just have this fella wait in your office until dinner rush is over.”

“Sure great yeah Moira wheres the crawfish for table ten?”

Which is how Joseph finds himself sitting in a cabin, twiddling his thumbs. His manners fight his boredom until he pulls a paperback from the nearby shelf and loses himself in the exploits of a someone recreating dishes from ancient civilizations. Doesn’t look up until the door opens and the same man, now with legs instead of that beautiful tail, walks in.

“Phew” he shuts the door with a satisfied smile, rests his head on the wood, then whirls and slams his back against it when Joseph clears his throat.

“GAHWHATTHEFUCK”

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you heard, um, Thacker, tell you he was having me wait here.”

“W-wait here for wh--Oh, oh right, the assistant thing.” The siren scrubs his face, “yeah, uh, guess Mama must've put the ad out. Uh, would you say you’re organized?”

“Extremely. But honestly it doesn’t seem like you need that much help on that front.”

A deep, rich laugh, “I cleaned this morning, last night it looked like an earthquake hit this place. Guessing from the fact you didn’t freak out in the kitchen you’re cool with the supernatural?”

“Yes. It’s an area of interest for me.”

There’s suspicion in Barclay’s voice, hidden but very much present, “why’d you end up in Kepler?”

“I came here on purpose. I wanted to be somewhere where strange things were celebrated and out in the open. Not...not kept from the world.”

Barclay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, “Where’d you work before now?”

“The…” he sighs, resigns himself to finding somewhere else to go, “the FBI. UP branch, I was at Nellis when they, um, relieved me of my duties.”

For a long moment, Barclay studies him. Then he turns to his desk, setting stacks of papers in order as he hums. Joseph closes his eyes, takes calming breaths; all he wants is to be safe, to not have to run. All he wants is for Barclay to hold him, he’s never seen a man so handsome and a useless, primal part of him fixates on that fact. Also he’s starving, god, he hasn’t eaten since his breakfast of black coffee.

Barclay stops humming, “Come with me.”

Joseph follows him back down into the strange kitchen (“couple of friends of mine are pretty powerful magicians. They rigged up the kitchen for me”). All the lights are off, and without them he discovers Barclay’s eyes glow an eerie yellow-green. When he smiles, Joseph sees only the points on his teeth, not the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Hungry?” Barclay rumbles.

“Starving.”

“You eat fish?”

“...Yes?” Will the wrong answer get him drowned.

The cook leaps towards the water, tail appearing and clothes vanishing at the last moment before he hits the dark surface. Joseph stands, on edge and curious, until the siren emerges, newly-dead trout in his hands.

“Tastes best fresh.” Barclay swims to his grill, turning it on in a click of a knob.

“Why not just stay human when you cook?” Joseph makes his way over to the station as Barclay butchers the fish and sets it into a heavily buttered pan.

“The charm only holds for so long before I need to be back in the water, and I get so busy during meals I don’t want to risk passing out because I went too long on shore. Besides” he spins elegantly to grab two spice jars, “I learned to cook in the water, so this is the most natural way for me.”

“Fascinating.” Joseph sits down, keeping himself out of arms reach of the water. Barclay seems nice, but sirens did not become famous for offering people things and then following through; hundreds of dead travelers prove that much.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago, originally.”

“Ever see the great lake mers?”

“No.” He can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s only learning of their existence now.

“Quite a few out there. Sirens too.”

Well, that introduces some new reasons for all the shipwrecks.

“How do you know? Are you from there?”

“Nah. Been in Kepler my whole life. Even during the bad years, singing people into that godawful, overpriced casino buffet. Convincing them the shitty cold cuts were prime rib.” His hand stills a moment, clenches and then releases, “yeah. Every now and then” he starts chopping shallots, “one of the drunks would get it into their heads to pet the sirens tail or hair and I had to sit there and let them. My tail” he shudders, swipes the shallots into the pan so roughly Joseph starts.

“Sorry.” Barclay mumbles.

“Don’t be. I’m on edge, that’s all. And you have every right to be angry. Being forced to do something you know is wrong is....there’s no winning.”

“That why you just want a place to feel safe?”

It’s so easy to confess in the darkness of the cave.

“I put up too much of a fight about something. Refused to do something that went against my conscience. They let me go, which I feared but expected. Then I found my bank accounts were cut off and someone had manipulated the records to say I’d been fired for criminal activity so it’d be harder to find a job.”

A clink of metal on china, and then Barclay is holding a plate out to him with tenderness in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Here, at least you won’t be hungry.”

Joseph murmurs out his thanks.

“You a wine drinker?”

“Right now I could certainly go for some.”

A few flicks of that stunning tail and Barclay returns with a glass of white for each of them.

“To getting free of shitty pasts.” The cook raises his glass and Joseph bumps his against it. Barclay brings it to his lips, but smiles rather than sip, “and by the way: you got the job.”

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

Being Barclay’s assistant is fifty percent clerical work and fifty percent following the siren around as he gathers ingredients or tests recipes. On Ned Chicane’s recommendation, Barclay had published a cookbook of both traditional siren foods and his own creations. It became a bestseller which, among other things, means Joseph has a brand new wardrobe, regular deliveries of gourmet food, and his cabin is now full of books. Whenever he points out that Barclay is already paying him and doesn’t need to buy him things, the siren simply rubs their cheeks together (a thing Joseph is only now getting used to) and tells him he likes doing it.

So when he’s not getting his recipes in order or typing up scribbled note cards into something legible, he’s following Barclay on foot or in a boat while he harvests or buys ingredients. Sirens have permission to fish and forage in areas, including the park, that humans don’t, which means he runs into Duck and his siren husband, Indrid, on more than one occasion while hauling lines into the boat.

The one time it gets stuck, Barclay pulls it out all on his own. Almost like he’s showing off the muscles in his back, arms, and tail.

The only thing Joseph won’t do is get in the water with the siren. He can’t get the images of drowned sailors, of fishermen torn to shreds, from his mind. Barclay is powerful, sharp-toothed and slit-pupiled, dangerous yet so gentle he once purred when Joseph complimented his food. And if Joseph never goes in the water with him, he’ll never have to confront the fact he wouldn’t mind if those pointed teeth dug into his skin and that tail trapped his legs while he thrashed in Barclay’s hold.

He assumes Barclay doesn’t notice; after all, swamps and marshes, even the river, are far less suited to a human swimming in them than an ocean or lake. This conclusion is bolstered by Barclay never, ever asking him to join him in the water. The siren is less careful about singing; he usually just hums as he works, but sometimes he sings wordlessly and Joseph nearly dives head first into the water (Barclay’s lap, if they’re on land).

Tonight, he’s cleaning up after Barclay’s test session of new recipes in the kitchen. The cook went out to visit some friends who live further in the state park, so when his voice drifts across the stones Joseph is surprised.

Cool, calloused hands on his cheeks, a tail stroking his thighs, his lips tracing up a sturdy leg. Copper hair twined in his fingertips, a heart beating in time with his own, teeth sinking into his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Water fills his nose and his body jerks back to the present, standing up in the shallow water that he stepped and stumbled face-first into.

“Joseph? Oh fuck, are you okay?” Barclay rounds the corner, swimming over to look up at him with concern.

“Yes. I, um, I think I got caught up in your song.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were already upstairs or I wouldn’t have sung so loud. I know you can’t swim.”

“I can.” Joseph kneels, face down-turned in shame, “I was scared to, um, to be in the water with you. It’s, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Barlay swims back, “you thought I was gonna eat you?”

“No! Or, um, at first I didn’t want to foolishly assume that sirens in Kepler were harmless, since death isn’t high on my to-do list. Then I thought suddenly starting to swim would tip you off to the fact I’d been suspicious and I didn’t want to hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “that song, though, Barclay, lord almighty is that what I want?”

“It’s what I want, I never sang it to bring you to me.”

“Oh.”

Barclay swims back to him, rubs their cheeks together, “Can I try something?”

“Anything” is all he gets out before he’s pulled into deeper water. He gasps for air, his own moans ricocheting across the room as Barclay bites his shoulder. On instinct his body tries to tread water, but copper scales trap his legs together, keep him flush against Barclay’s body.

“It’s okay babe, you can relax. I got you, I could keep us both afloat in my sleep.” He hums as he trails his lips across Joseph’s throat, “you’re safe. You’re with me.”

“Don’t make me leave.” The song pulls it out of him, because he wants to say it, wants to admit that losing what he has in Kepler terrifies him, just so he can hear-

“Never. You make me so fucking happy.” Barclay kisses him tenderly, keeps tracking his bite marks with a finger, “please stay. Stay for as long as you want."

"What if I want forever?" He rests his face on Barclay's shoulder as the siren spins them, dance-like, in the water.

"I think we can manage that."

[kurokoros]

cat out of the bag | masterlist

Chapter One: dial back the thirst

Two teams; one bitter rivalry. As manager of the Karasuno college volleyball team, you probably shouldn’t be seeing Kuroo, the Nekoma captain. How long can you keep the cat in the bag before your team finds out?

AN: Full 2K scene under the cut! Enjoy! Fingers crossed that I get the next part out on Wednesday to make up for not posting this on Friday!

Honestly, you should have expected Bokuto’s “casual” party to be anything but. Even with Fukurodani’s level-headed setter present, the volleyball team easily fed on Bokuto’s chaotic nature, and it wasn’t long before some of the first years got into the alcohol, much to Kaori’s chagrin. Though you came with Kaori and Yukie, it didn’t take long for the three of you to split apart, with Yukie disappearing with her boyfriend and Kaori relegated to playing babysitter for the rest of the night.

You aren’t sure how you ended up talking to Akaashi, exactly, but you can’t complain.

Taking another sip of your own drink, you hurriedly slip your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the frantic buzzing from the group chat asking you more about your “sexy mystery man” as Yukie put it. As you fiddle with the sleeve of your Fukurodani sweatshirt (courtesy of Yukie for spilling whatever ungodly concoction of fruit punch, tequila, and other trace amounts of alcohol Bokuto came up with all over your own jacket), you cast a glance around the room. You try to be subtle, but your nonchalance crumbles as soon as your eyes latch onto the aforementioned stupidly hot volleyball player.

Lingering a little too long on the firm muscles revealed by his short-sleeves, heat prickles across your skin when those hazel, cat-like eyes lock with yours as if he’d already been staring at you. The right side of his mouth curls into a pleased smirk. He straightens to his full height, towering over his friend standing beside him. And then he winks.

You almost choke on your drink.

Beside you, Akaashi snorts, and you catch him mid-eyeroll as your gaze snaps back to him. Shit, if he saw what just happened, he’ll never let you live it down. The Fukurodani vice-captain doesn’t look at you though. Instead, his attention is locked on his phone as he types out a quick response to whoever is texting him--probably Bokuto sending him drunk memes again. You quirk a brow, but don’t ask.

Suddenly, his expression shifts from fond annoyance to something serious. Akaashi glances across the room, lips pressed into a stern line. You can’t be sure who he’s looking at in the packed room, but your attempt to follow his gaze leads you right back to the mystery man that you’ve been casually staring at since he first walked through the door. Hazel eyes shift between you and Akaashi curiously, and his smirk widens as he turns back to his phone.

“Something wrong?” you ask Akaashi, who’s now staring at his phone in exasperation as another text comes through. You nudge him with your shoulder, taking another sip of your drink.

Dark blue eyes glance at you. “Not yet,” he tells you cryptically, stuffing his phone back into his pocket without responding to the text. Sighing, he mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch. 

Your brows furrow at his bizarre answer, and you lower your cheap, plastic cup in order to send him a look, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms over his chest. Before you can press the subject, Akaashi rolls his eyes, looking past you at someone else. “Kuroo,” he greets with a nod.

Glancing up at the new arrival, your breath catches when you find a pair of eyes you’re quickly becoming familiar with staring right back at you. If you’d still been drinking, you think you would have choked for real this time. Hot volleyball boy is even more attractive up close, which you, frankly, didn’t think could be possible. He’s even taller than you thought, lean with broad shoulders, and damn it’s a little embarrassing how quickly your gaze drops to his arms, but the way he rakes his fingers through his messy hair only emphasizes his biceps.

You practically rip your eyes away from him, but it’s too late.

Kuroo’s lips curve upwards at the edges like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, grin lazy in a way that has a slow shiver rolling down your spine. There’s no way to play it off like you were doing anything but checking him out--which you totally blame on Bokuto’s godawful mixed drinks--but you can’t really feel ashamed when he’s eyeing you just as much interest. He lingers on you for just a second too long before turning back to your surly companion.

“Kaashi. How ya doin’ buddy?” Kuroo glances at you pointedly again, clearly trying to get Akaashi to introduce you, and you bite your lip to muffle your laughter as Akaashi just stares back in annoyance, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

Without bothering to reply to Kuroo, Akaashi turns to you and places a hand on your head. You huff as he ruffles your hair. “I’m going to look for Bokuto,” he tells you as you swat his hand away. Amusement curls at the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone as soon as he turns back to the other man. “Behave.” It’s a warning if you’ve ever heard one.

Kuroo’s smirk widens. “Have fun!” he calls after Akaashi, who pretends not to hear him as he slips into the crowd in search of his not-boyfriend. You snort into your drink, rolling your eyes at his retreating frame, and that’s when Kuroo glances down at you again. There’s something like mischief in his eyes. “So,” he starts casually, “do you have eleven protons? Cause you’re so-dayum fine.”

It shouldn’t be funny. Really, it shouldn’t. But something about the way he says it so nonchalantly has an embarrassing giggle slipping from you. That only makes him look more pleased, and an amused sound pulls from the back of his throat as he introduces himself properly.

You tell him your name as well, unable to stop the smile from overtaking you. “So, is that how you introduce yourself to everyone?” you ask, fiddling with your empty cup. Slowly, you glance around the crowded room, searching for Yukie or Kaori, but it isn’t long before you’re staring up at Kuroo unabashedly again, some unexplainable magnetic pull making you want to lean in closer.

The question makes his lips twitch. Kuroo leans back against the wall beside you, gaze lazy and playful as he looks back at you. “Not always,” he admits, making you snort softly. “My friend Yaku kind of goaded me into it. Said I should stop staring and talk to you.”

“Did he?” You bite back a stupid smile.

Kuroo chuckles and reaches up to run a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. I believe his exact words were to go talk to the pretty girl with Akaashi, because my staring was ‘gross and obnoxious,’ ” he quotes, making a face. Something in his expression shifts as he glances at you. A little softer than before. A little nervous.

You don’t miss a beat, nodding in understanding. “Ah, one of those friends. I think Akaashi was getting ready to say something similar to me.”

“Akaashi does have a way with words doesn’t he?” he jokes.

“Oh, absolutely.” Shoving away from the wall, you come to stand in front of him, head cocked to one side as you look him over again, again lingering on the lean muscle lining his arms. Kuroo preens under the attention, back straightening and eyes lighting up as you lean in a little closer than necessary. “So, do you have more pick-up lines on standby, or are you not as charming as you look?” It’s bolder than anything you’d usually say, but you’re two drinks in and he’s hot, so you might as well shoot your shot.

You didn’t think his smirk could get any wider, but it does. “Well I could tell you one about gravity, but it might make you fall for me.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes and reach for another cup of Bokuto’s mixed drinks sitting on a nearby table. Even still, you can feel your face heating up from the silly pick-up line. “Oh come on, you can do better than that,” you tease back, goading him.

You bring the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes locked on his as you take a slow drink. Kuroo watches you, wetting his lips. “You sure you wanna play that game, kitten?”

The petname makes your breathing hitch; he notices. “Definitely.”

You don’t know how long you spend talking to Kuroo, just that doing so is incredibly easy. Easier than it should be, considering you’ve just met, but it helps that you have friends in common. It’s strange that you’ve never met before now, considering he’s friends with Bokuto and has to be a volleyball player. There’s no way that he isn’t. And you’re so sure that you would have recognized him if you’d seen him before, but the thought slips away from you by the time you finish your next drink.

Kuroo is just as charming as you expected, teasing you with silly pick-up lines that wouldn’t work coming from anyone but him, but silly, too. He croons along with the songs playing over the speakers, and tells you about the stupid things he and Bokuto got up to in high school. At one point he slips into a tangent about some chemistry theory that you don’t understand, but the way his eyes light up more than makes up for your confusion.

He’s a dork. An incredibly sexy dork, but still a dork. And you end up cuddled up next to him on the couch downstairs as the party starts to wind down, your limbs heavy and sleep starting to tug at your senses. Your legs are tossed over his lap, head on his shoulder, and Kuroo doesn’t seem to be complaining in the slightest.

“Okay, okay,” you giggle, leaning further into his chest as you peek up at him. “What’s the worst sciency pick-up line you know?”

He hums. “Worst as in bad or nasty?”

“Surprise me.”

He thinks about it for a minute, brows furrowed as his head lolls back against the couch. Two long, calloused fingers idly stroke the bare skin of your shoulder where his arm is wrapped loosely around you. You shift against his chest to watch his lips twitch as he finds an answer. “If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, how would you want me: smooth or rough?”

And you crack up. “Has that ever worked?”

“Fuck no!” Kuroo sends you a look, chuckling himself. “The only other person I’ve ever told that one to is my friend Kenma. I’ve never seen anyone more disgusted.”

After your laughter dies down, you manage to ask the question that’s been swimming at the forefront of your mind since you first saw him across the room. “So how long have you been playing volleyball?”

He quirks a brow. “How do you know I play volleyball?”

Snorting, you gesture vaguely around the now half-empty room. “Aside from this being a party hosted by the boy’s volleyball team? You look the type.”

“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s that, kitten?” he asks, reaching for his drink.

“Your thighs,” you admit bluntly, and Kuroo chokes on his drink, eyes wide as they snap to you. “Definitely your thighs.” And then, because there’s no way you’re sober right now, you punctuate this statement by reaching down and grabbing one of said thighs, giving the firm muscle a gentle pat that turns into more of a cheeky squeeze.

Kuroo looks at you like he isn’t sure whether to be amused or shocked, but his smirk shifts into something softer. “You’re drunk, huh?”

You nod. “Absolutely.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. The fingers that have been absentmindedly stroking your arm come to a stop as you curl into his side and close your eyes. “Do you need me to find one of your friends?” Kuroo’s voice is quiet, his breath warm against your ear.

“No.” You shake your head, effectively nuzzling closer to him without realizing it. “Stay.”

He does.

Taglist: OPEN

[randomingoftherandomness]

1 or 9, your choice, for the OT3 writing prompts

9. A is trying to be a matchmaker for B and C, setting them up for a blind date where B and C realise that the most important thing they have in common is their crush on A

—

The overpriced coffee between his hands is going cold but he pays it no mind. Even if Booker wanted to, he can’t stop sneaking looks at the table where his best friend Joe had finally walked up to meet his blind date.

His heart twists at the way Nicky smiles when Joe introduces himself.

No, no, this is good. This is very good. Joe’s a good man and an even better friend, and Nicky is an amazing soul who is infinitely kind and deserves nothing but happiness. The same sort of happiness that Joe could bring into his life.

Booker knows them separately; Joe who started out as just a weekend football friend and became someone he would meet up mid week for a meal or to watch a game, Nicky that he knows from work at the museum and with whom he shares a secret stash of office snacks and an even more secretive love of seasonal romantic comedies.

They’re some of the closest people he has in his life and when they’d started telling him that they’re looking to start a relationship, to put themselves on the market, Booker does the only thing he knows would be the best thing for the best people. He sets them up on a blind date with each other.

A blind date, if by the looks of it can be believed, is going extremely well.

He tries not to examine the way his stomach flips at the soft sound of Nicky’s laughter over the chatter of the cafe. Joe’s eyes are crinkling in pure delight and Booker feels himself ache in some strange loss he cannot explain.

They’re getting along. This is is good.

He takes a sip of the overpriced coffee, wincing at the taste and checks his phone. Neither one of them have messaged him asking for him to come over and defuse whatever awkwardness that may have arisen.

Booker resolves to give them another ten minutes before he leaves them to the rest of their date. It wouldn’t do for him to loiter around their peripheral like some spectre. They should get to know each other independently of him and he knows that this is for the best.

He’s halfway through the godawful coffee and planning how he can beat an escape without them noticing when two shadows loom over his table.

“Hey,” Joe says, sliding into the chair opposite his while Nicky takes the one next to him. They look at each other for a moment before coming to some unspoken agreement.

“We did some talking and we have decided,” Nicky smiles. One of those patient little curls of his lips that Booker has only ever seen bestowed on the most thickest of brains.

“Decided?”

Joe chuckles, reaching over to pry his hand loose from his cup and hooking his finger to Booker’s thumb. “Yeah, decided.”

Whatever facial expression he has on his face must be enough to make Nicky sigh heavily because he finds himself being drawn into a kiss, gentle and careful and all too brief. His shocked mind plays acrobatics, looking from one patient face to the other. “I don’t understand.”

“When Joe and I said that we were ready for a relationship, it had been to suss out whether you were too,” Nicky pulls back just a little, keeping their arms and elbows pressed together. “We like each other, yes, and this is something we think could go somewhere but I think that we found that we like you just as much and if you’d give us the chance, we’d like to see where this could go.”

“That’s probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you speak.” Booker stares dumbly. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

The finger around his thumb tightens. “I’ve changed the dinner booking to three. Just say yes to that at least?”

He swallows tightly, wanting to ask them if they’re sure about this, but then remembering that if he trusts anything in this world, it is for Joe and Nicky to never lead him wrong.

“Yes,” He eventually says around a shy grin. “But only if you let me finish this coffee first.”

[sonicgetsrawed]

Everyday Can Be Like Christmas as Long as I Have You

This is a very late Christmas in July one shot featuring the boys!!! Enjoy!!!

Hugo groaned as the sunlight streamed through the window to his bedroom, the bedroom that he now shared with his boyfriend. Just thinking about how Varian was his boyfriend put a stupid smile on his face. It had almost been six months since their journey across the seven kingdoms and he couldn’t be happier, well he could if it wasn’t the middle of fucking summer and their bedroom just so happened to be in the hottest fucking corner of the castle. He couldn’t even sleep with a blanket, hell, he couldn’t even cuddle with Varian, he was like a fucking furnace himself, and it really put him in a shitty mood. After all that they’d been through was it so wrong for him to just want to cuddle his boyfriend? The sun apparently thought so. The curtains were thrown open, the sun blasting him with its full force. Sun above did it have to be so fucking bright?

“Good morning, babe!” Came Varian’s chipper voice, it was far too peppy for the godawful hour it had to be. He must have actually slept for once, good for him, Hugo couldn’t relate.

Hugo groaned in response, pulling Varian’s pillow over his face in a vain attempt at blocking out the sun.

“Time to get up! I’ve got a big day planned for us!” Varian said, ripping the pillow away from Hugo.

“So do I. It’s called sleeping in.” Hugo said, moving his own pillow over his face. He felt the bed shift as Varian climbed onto it. What he wasn’t expecting was for it to continue moving as Varian jumped up and down on it.

“Get up. Get up. Come on, get up. Hugo, are you up yet? Come on.” Varian repeated as he continued jumping.

Hugo groaned again, giving up as he swung his pillow at Varian. “Fine. I’m up. I’m up.”

“Great!” Varian said, handing Hugo his glasses and a cup of what he assumed was coffee as he settled next to him, pulling Hugo into a sitting position before wrapping his arms around Hugo’s middle and resting his head on his shoulder.

“So what’s your big plan?” Hugo asked, taking a sip from the drink, pulling back immediately as the taste of chocolate settled on his tongue. “Is this hot chocolate?”

“Yup.” Varian answered, a wide smile on his face.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Varian said, and Hugo could practically hear him wiggle his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to retort, but Varian cut him off. “So, you know how last night we were talking about Christmas?”

“Yeah?” Hugo said, confusion lacing his voice, not understanding what that had to do with the hot chocolate in his cup.

“And you said you’d never had a proper Christmas?” Varian continued, moving so he was now facing Hugo.

“And?” Hugo asked, drawing out the word.

“Well, I thought we could celebrate today! Surprise!” Varian finished, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Hugo blinked rapidly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe, it’s the middle of fucking summer.”

“I know, but just- just trust me okay?” Varian said, the same wide bucktooth smile on his face like when he had a particularly exciting breakthrough. And really how could Hugo say no to that face.

Hugo sighed, taking another sip of the hot chocolate as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll trust you, I’ll always trust you.”

Varian’s smile turned soft, leaning into Hugo’s touch as he cupped his face. “And I’ll always trust you.” Varian said before claiming Hugo’s lips in a soft kiss, the taste of chocolate still on his tongue and something lingering on Varian’s lips that made his almost tingly. Peppermint maybe. Whatever it was, Hugo decided he quite liked it, expertly moving his cup to the bedside table before snaking his now free hand around Varian’s waist, the other supporting Varian’s head as he fully intended to lay him down on the mattress and just devour his boyfriend. Varian seemed to know exactly what he was doing, pulling back and poking his chest with an accusing finger. “No, I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“But, babe.” Hugo whined, moving to place kisses along Varian’s neck, his lips teasingly lingering over the sensitive spot that he knew drove Varian mad.

“No.” Varian said a bit more forcefully, pushing Hugo back and fixing him with a glare that would’ve been a lot more menacing if it wasn’t for the way the corners of his lips twitched as he fought back a smile. “Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen in ten.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Hugo said with a playful roll of his eyes, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to weasel out of whatever scheme Varian had planned for the day. And with one last chaste kiss Varian left Hugo alone to prepare for the eventful day.

******************

Hugo arrived in the kitchen thirty minutes later. Sure he was twenty minutes late, but it was his day off, he wasn’t going to rush and on top of that Varian made some damn good hot chocolate. Hugo let out a yawn as he scrubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes and pushed the door open.

“Merry Christmas!” Rapunzel yelled, her brown hair tucked under a chef's hat, the green of her dress peeking out from under her frilly pink apron, flour covering the freckles on her cheeks and a rolling pin in her hand. She threw some flour into the air before grabbing Hugo’s hands and pulling him over to the counter. Varian laughed from behind his hand, wearing a chef's jacket two sizes too big, flour on his face and hair, Rapunzel must have done the same to him. “So I thought we could start with my favorite Christmas activity, making gingerbread cookies!”

“Well we actually already made them, but we are going to decorate them!” Varian said, gesturing to the array of frostings and candies and of course cookies on the counter.

“And then we’re going to eat them!” Rapunzel added, bouncing excitedly on her feet.

“Why can’t we just eat them now?” Hugo asked, snatching one of the gingerbread men off the plate. He eyed it curiously, he’d always seen them in shop windows during the winters, but never actually had one. He’d never understood the fascination with them, sure when he was younger he’d always wanted one, but Donella always said they had more important things to do, more important things to spend money on.

“The point isn’t about eating the cookies, it’s about the memories we make by spending time together decorating them and having fun.” Rapunzel explained, snatching the cookie out of Hugo’s hand before he could take a bite.

“That’s what Christmas is all about. Spending time with the ones you love.” Varian said, placing a kiss to Hugo’s cheek. “Now I’ve got to go, but you two have fun!”

“Wait-“ Hugo reached for Varian’s hand but he was already by the exit, waving at Hugo as he headed out the door. And then he was gone, leaving Hugo alone with Rapunzel, and wasn’t that contradictory to what Varian had said, Christmas was about spending time with those you love and there was no one he loved more than Varian.

“Okay, so I like to start like this-“ Rapunzel explained, picking up a cookie and some icing, Hugo vaguely paying attention as she went about decorating her cookie before getting to work on his own.

After about ten minutes, and about twenty fucked up cookies on Hugo’s part, they opted to just eat the cookies. Now, an hour later Rapunzel was draped across the table, shoveling spoonfuls of icing into her mouth, Hugo laying across from her eating cookie after cookie as they talked.

“And then, Eugene says ‘Sunshine,” Rapunzel said, deepening her voice in a poor imitation of her husband, Hugo not even bothering to hide his laughter as she shoved another spoonful of icing into her mouth before continuing. “‘That’s too much glitter, don’t you think?’ Can you believe that? Too much glitter.”

“The fucking audacity! You can never have too much glitter.” Hugo said, shoveling his own spoonful of icing into his mouth. He felt like he might actually be sick if he had anymore sugar but that didn’t stop him from following up with yet another cookie. If he had to wait another six months for these delicious fuckers he was going to make the most of it.

“Right?! That’s what I said!” Rapunzel agreed, waving her spoon through the air.

“You should dump him.” Hugo deadpanned, pulling his spoon out of his mouth with a pop.

Rapunzel frowned, propping herself up on her elbows. “We’re married.” Rapunzel said, Hugo simply shrugging in response. Rapunzel bursting out in laughter and laying back down, a wide smile on her face. “You know, we should do this more often. It’s been fun.”

Hugo returned the smile with a small nod. “Yeah, it was.”

“I’m so glad!” Came Varian’s voice, Hugo jumping at the sound and scrambling to his feet as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. He supposed old habits die hard. Varian bounded over, grease now replacing the flour that had been on his cheeks. Hugo gently used his thumb to scrub at the grease, smearing it more than removing it, Varian’s nose scrunched up at the action. “Ready for our next stop?”

“Lead the way, Goggles.” Hugo said, taking Varian’s hand in his, placing a kiss to the back of it and letting him lead the way to their next destination.

*****************

Hugo stared up at the library doors. Of all the places he expected them to go it certainly wasn’t here. As much as he loved the library it wasn’t where he wanted to spend his day off. “Var-“

“Trust me.” Varian said, placing a finger over Hugo’s lips before he could continue, likely knowing what Hugo was going to say. Varian smiled widely as he pushed open the doors to the library.

“Merry Christmas, kid!” Eugene said, blowing a handful of confetti into Hugo’s face. Hugo swatted at the assaulting pieces of paper, although his annoyance didn’t last long as he took in the rest of the library. Garland and tinsel draped on the shelves, sparkling in the sunlight. At the center of the library was a large tree, it obviously wasn’t a Christmas tree, but it was trimmed in ornaments and tinsel all the same, presents sitting at the bottom.

“Sorry we couldn’t get an actual Christmas tree, but we did the best we could with such short notice.” Varian said, swinging their hands back and forth.

“It’s perfect.” Hugo responded, cupping Varian’s face fully intending to kiss his boyfriend senseless when Eugene cleared his throat.

“Yeah, hi, still here.” Eugene said with a small wave.

Varian laughed as he settled for a quick peck to Hugo’s lips. “And I should not still be here. I’ve got to finish your present. Speaking of~” Varian moved his hands in a little circle as he pulled out of Hugo’s grip and headed towards the door.

“Right.” Eugene said with a wink, slinging an arm around Hugo’s shoulder and leading him towards the tree. “So, my favorite part of Christmas, the presents!”

“Of course that would be your favorite part about Christmas.” Hugo said with a roll of his eyes, shrugging Eugene’s arm off. They were definitely on more amicable terms now, but he still wouldn’t call them friends.

“Ah, you misunderstand, it’s not about getting a gift it’s all about giving a gift.” Eugene said, sitting them down in front of the tree, pulling a wrapped package out from underneath. “Unfortunately, given the rude awakening at three this morning we weren’t really given time to prepare actual gifts, so this bitch empty.”

Hugo raised an eyebrow as Eugene tossed the box over his shoulder, choosing to ignore the present and focusing on that fact that Varian had apparently been up since three am. “Did he sleep at all?”

“Highly unlikely.” Eugene answered. “Anyways~ since I don’t have a physical gift, you will have to settle for a nugget of good ol Fitzherbert wisdom.”

“Oh, goodie.” Hugo said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, fiddling with a ribbon on a nearby present.

Eugene scooted closer, placing a hand on Hugo’s shoulder, Hugo glancing up at him over the top of his glasses. “Listen, kid, I know you did some shitty stuff, but you need to remember that you are worthy of forgiveness, you are worthy of love. Just because you fucked up doesn’t change that.”

Hugo swallowed thickly, his eyes darting down to the present. “I know, I’m working towards that, to re earn everyone’s trust, to re earn Varian’s.”

“And that’s great, but I’m not talking about everyone else.” Eugene said, giving Hugo’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, Hugo reluctantly meeting Eugene’s eyes. “You need to forgive yourself first, anyone else who’s worth a damn will follow.”

“I’m trying.” Hugo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. As much as he loved his time with Varian, he couldn’t help the occasional surge of guilt that plagued him more often than he’d like to admit. He was really trying, more so for Varian than himself, but he was trying nonetheless.

“I know. Now come here, let’s hug it out.” Eugene pulled Hugo into a hug, the later stiffening in his grip. Normally he would’ve pushed Eugene away, but what the hell, it was Christmas, so Hugo returned the hug, surprising himself with how easily he relaxed into it.

“Aw, group hug!” A voice boomed across the library, a pair of strong arms lifting the two males off the ground, and there were only two people he knew with that kind of upper body strength, Rapunzel and-

“Lance.” Eugene whined, squirming in Lance’s grip. “Please, set us down.”

“Oops, sorry.” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Great, now that you’re here I’m going to go find Varian.” Hugo said, smoothing down his now wrinkled clothes.

“Not so fast, little man’s man, it’s my turn to show you how we celebrate Christmas in the Schnitz family.” Lance said, grabbing Hugo’s arm before he could escape. “First activity, caroling~”

“Nope.” Hugo responded, pulling his arm free and heading towards the door. He’d much rather hug Eugene again then go caroling of all things, that’s where he drew the line.

Lance cut him off, his eyes wide and hands clasped together in front of his chest. “Please, I’m begging you. I need a distraction! Kiera’s on a date and Catalina is spying on her for me. I cannot be left alone right now, I cannot.”

“Fine.” Hugo groaned, dragging a hand down his face, already regretting his decision, but if he was honest with himself he couldn’t say no to Lance, not really. Lance was the one out of all of Varian’s friends he got along with right away, he was the one that understood him, the one that never made Hugo feel like he didn’t belong, like he wasn’t good enough. Lance had struggled turning over a new leaf at first and in all honesty so had Hugo. He couldn’t count the number of times he almost left in the dead of night, thinking it was best for Varian, and the one time he actually did, he’d be long gone too if Lance hadn’t caught him and talked him out of it. He owed a lot to Lance, so if caroling made him happy then Hugo could suffer for a bit. Besides, how bad could it be?

**************************

The answer was bad, very bad, apparently. Hugo was sandwiched between the two older males as they belted Christmas carols very loudly and very offkey. His ears would be ringing for the next week and a half. He hadn’t even bothered singing himself, and the two idiots that flanked him were too absorbed in their own renditions to notice.

“And scene!” Lance said with a bow, pulling Hugo and Eugene down with him. The silence that followed soon filled by the sound of clapping.

“That was… lovely.” Arianna said, her voice soft and kind, but her scrunched up nose told a different story than her words.

“Why thank you! We’ve been practicing so we can knock 'em dead at the winter ball this year.” Eugene said, his chest puffed with pride.

“And I’m sure you’ll do just that.” Arianna responded, offering her hand to Hugo as the other two processed her words. “Come, dear, it’s time for your next surprise.”

Hugo gratefully took her hand, snickering as Lance and Eugene tried to make heads or tails of Arianna’s comment.

“Was that a jab?” Eugene asked, his voice carrying through the room as Hugo and the queen scurried towards the door.

“I think it was a jab.” Lance confirmed, sounding just as perplexed as Eugene.

As soon as the door closed, Hugo burst into laughter, linking his arm with the queen’s. “Well played, your majesty.”

Arianna laughed, patting Hugo’s hand. “Thank you, but I do hope the boys aren’t too offended.”

“They’ll live.” Hugo said, letting Arianna lead them through the halls. It had always struck him as strange that he got along so well with the queen given she was royalty, and royalty was the bane of his existence, but for some reason they just clicked.

“Let’s get into something more suitable for the weather.” Arianna said with a wink.

Hugo glanced down at his outfit, just a simple tank top and his pajama bottoms, he hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes. It was so fucking hot outside, how much more suitable could he dress?

“Just trust me on this.” Arianna said before Hugo could even ask, she always had a way of knowing things as simple and obvious as those things were sometimes. Hugo simply nodded, easily following Arianna through the halls.

********************

If anyone else had tried to stuff him into his winter coat and boots in the middle of the summer, he’d have told them they were out of their goddamn mind. But since it was Arianna he decided to have a little more tact. “And why the fuck am I wearing this?”

“Language.” Arianna reprimanded, fixing Hugo with a glare as she adjusted the hat on his head. “You’re going to be thanking me in a few minutes.”

“Am I though?” Hugo teased, pushing the hat back a bit.

“Yes.” Arianna responded, lightly smacking his arm. Hugo threw his head back in a laugh, retaking her arm as she led them to the doors to the garden, not even giving him a chance to question before she swung the doors open.

“Merry Christmas!” Varian shouted, and Hugo’s jaw dropped. The ground was coated in snow, well it was more slush than actual snow, but it white and it was cold. Two large metal machines sat on opposite sides of the garden spouting the white stuff. Ruddiger in his own set of gloves and goggles, occasionally hitting a button that Hugo assumed controlled the machines. Varian’s nose pink from the chill in the air, the pesky grease stains still on his cheeks, his scarf hanging loosely around his neck, his too big coat swallowing him, and his hair pushed back held in place only by his goggles, that adorable lopsided bucktooth smile on his face. By all means he looked like a fucking mess, but to Hugo he looked like a goddamn angel.

Hugo turned to Arianna, placing a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you.” Arianna smiled in return, closing the doors as Hugo ran, more so stumbled towards Varian. He wrapped his arms around the smaller as soon as he was able, kissing Varian’s pink nose as he laughed. “You did all this?”

“Yeah. I wanted you to have the best Christmas ever, I couldn’t leave out your favorite part.” Varian said, snuggling into Hugo’s chest and wrapping his arms around him as well. It was stupid that snow was his favorite part of Christmas, but it had been the only true way for Hugo to know that it was in fact Christmas time. He’d never gotten the presents, or to sit by the Christmas tree, or to go caroling, or make cookies. But the snow had always been there, and when everyone else had gone to sleep he’d go out into the snow and wish for that ever elusive Christmas miracle. He supposed he finally found it, here in Corona, in Varian’s arms.

“Thank you. I just- thank you.” Hugo said, resting his chin on top of Varian’s head, watching the snow fall around them as he held him tight, for the first time since the summer started relishing in the body heat Varian produced. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t help but wonder about one last thing. “Hey, sweet cheeks?”

Varian hummed in response, lifting his head so his chin now rested on Hugo’s chest, snow already catching in his eyelashes.

“We did everyone else’s favorite things, but what about yours?” Hugo asked, genuinely curious. For all the talk they did about Christmas, Varian had failed to mention his favorite part.

“This.” Varian answered, a softer smile on his face as he let out a small laugh. “Spending time with my friends, and family, and you. That’s my favorite part. None of the other stuff matters as long as I have that.”

“You are so sappy.” Hugo said, smiling down at Varian, cupping his face as he rested his forehead against his. His heart fluttered in his chest, they hadn’t said those words yet, not since the showdown at the library but he knew he felt it. He loved Varian with all that he was, he’d give everything and anything for him. And now that they’d grown, and healed, there wasn’t a better time. “I love you.”

Varian’s face went blank for a second as he blinked up at Hugo, and for a second he thought he wouldn’t return the sentiment. Then he smiled, laughing again as he rubbed their noses together. “I love you too.”

Hugo smiled widely, leaning down further to claim Varian’s lips, but Varian beat him to it, slamming their lips together as he tackled Hugo to the ground. It was rougher than he intended, but Hugo wouldn’t have it any other way. Hugo smiled all the way through the kiss, paying no mind to the artificial snow beneath them. And even though Christmas wasn’t technically for another six months, Hugo was certain that this would be the best Christmas he ever had.

[kaysmemes]

betrayal  .

a  collection  of  sentences  relating  to  betrayal  from  friends/lovers  ! cw  ;  pregnancy  mention  ,  cheating/adultery  .

betrayal to/from friends.

“wait, what... what’s going on?! are you (in on this/with [him/her/them])?!” “i thought you’d be a little less naive than this. boy, was i wrong. but man, you should’ve seen how pathetic you looked through this whole thing!” “i can’t believe you would do this! you knew i was still recovering from that, and you took advantage of me!” “listen, it meant nothing. of course, those (number) other times meant nothing, too, but that’s all in the past.” “you stole (him/her/them) from me! i thought we were (best) friends!” “(he/she/they) came onto me, but can you blame (him/her/them)? i’m way (prettier/more handsome) than you can ever hope to be. of course i had to show off my potential. but you can be (his/her/their) sloppy seconds.” “this friendship is over! i never want to see or hear from you again!” “yeah, it’s been fun, but you’ve become too (boring/clingy/overbearing). i’m done with whatever the hell this pathetic thing was.” “that’s funny, i never would’ve taken you for such a coward to be going behind my back like that. you’re pathetic, is what you are. this friendship is off starting right now.” “ah, so you’re finally figuring it out. took you long enough.”

betrayal to/from lovers.

“so you’re (seeing/sleeping with/going out with) (him/her/them)?” “fine, yes, i’ve been (talking to/seeing/sleeping with/going out with) (him/her/them)! but it’s only because we never do because of your (job/family/friends) always coming before (me/our relationship/our marriage)!” “who the hell (is/are) (he/she/they)? you’re (dating/engaged to/married to) me, remember?!” “yeah, about this... i want to (break up/call the wedding off/get a divorce). i’ve just... i’ve fallen out of love with you, and i have been for a while. plus... i’m seeing someone else. (he/she/they) make(s) me happier than you honestly ever have.” “...get out of here. now, before i break something over your head.” “i’ve already taken some money out of our joint account, but you can keep whatever’s left. i’m sorry, but i’m with (him/her/them) now, and i think we’re going to be together a lot longer than you and i.” “well, this isn’t the perfect time to tell you, but i guess you should know... i’m pregnant.” “i’m not getting stuck in this godawful (relationship/marriage) because you’re knocked up. it’s probably not even mine.” “you’re gonna bail on me when i need you the most?! typical! i’m always there for you because i love you, but you don’t even give a damn! you probably never even have...” “i can’t (do/take) this anymore! i can’t deal with you when you’re like this! i’m done with (this/you/us)!”

[whumpinggrounds]

Febuwhump Day 6: Insomnia

notes that probably no one is reading but i am putting in anyway:

- this little drabble thingy takes place before all of my other febuwhump writing, so Mara is telling the truth about not having seen Jude.

-Jamie is very important and also i love her :)

CW: nothing i can think of!

Jamie’s not exactly beautiful. It takes a long time for most people to figure that out, because she’s so striking, but Mara was with Jamie long enough to know. It’s not the nicest train of thought, and Mara knows she should be better than this, but when she’s feeling small and mean, she can’t resist. And now that Jamie’s texting her for the first time in months, Mara gives in to her bitchy little worst impulse, pulls up the contact photo, and looks with critical eyes.

It’s the hair that does most of the work. Jamie’s hair is red, red, red. Not orange or strawberry blonde or even auburn; Jamie’s hair is red like no one’s ever seen. The color is true and deep and absolutely natural, and the long wavy locks are so long they almost reach her waist. Jamie looks like the photo on a box of dye at a CVS. People stop her on the street sometimes to ask what she does to it. Poor shy Jamie hates that, keeps her hair tied up in a bun or a braid almost always. It’s still impossible to ignore. It still makes people turn their heads when Jamie walks by; it’s the kind of thing that convinces strangers she’s absolutely stunning. They’re not wrong, because the hair itself is stunning, it’s just that once you get past the hair, Mara knows, Jamie is just sort of…plain. Nothing hideous, but nothing special either. Her eyes are nice enough. Blue. But her nose is kind of hooked at the end, and her skin is sort of sallow. She’s skinny. Not much else to her.

And, and, and there’s nothing wrong with her, of course, but she’s not as pretty as everyone thinks. Mara concludes it all over again after staring into the familiar smiling face on her screen, and the knowing soothes some bitterness deep in her chest. It’s not nice, thinking these things. It’s not right. But it brings Mara some small, vicious satisfaction, which she tells herself she’s earned.

It also takes her mind off the contents of Jamie’s text, if only for a little while.

Hey, have you heard from Jude at all lately?

There are a thousand different replies itching in Mara’s fingers. No, I haven’t fucking heard from Jude. You know we haven’t spoken in months. I kind of think you know why, too, and if you cared about me at all you would tell me what’s going ON.

That’s when Mara’s thoughts turn pathetic, as they always do. Something. Anything. Please god just tell me anything. If it got her some answers, she wouldn’t even care about how pitiful she sounded.

Mara growls, throws her phone at the couch.

Okay, so maybe she’d care.

Okay, so maybe what’s most tempting of all is a clean, simple, fuck off.

It takes a good few minutes of careful breathing before Mara is ready to let that one go.

All of that is anger, of course. Anger that would feel so, so good to express, to spit right out at Jamie – but beneath the anger there’s worry. A creeping fear. Why is Jamie asking her if she’s heard from Jude? Mara wants to believe that Jamie is insecure about Jude coming back to Mara, but…but what if it’s something worse? They’re in a dangerous line of work. Jude could be shortsighted, could be reckless. Anger is one thing, but the worry on its heels is a different monster altogether. It occupies Mara’s thoughts.

It’s not Mara’s business anymore, is it? She and Jude broke up. They haven’t spoken in months. If Jamie and Jude are so close now, then let Jamie worry about it. Let Jamie figure it out. It sounds great, in theory, just letting it go and moving on.

But Mara can’t. Letting go lasts as long as Mara can distract herself with cooking dinner and reviewing session notes and showering, but when she lies down to sleep, there’s no escape. When she lies down to sleep, Mara is left staring at the ceiling, obsessing over that text.

She’s had trouble sleeping since high school. Mara has a routine she sticks to religiously, one of those things that doctors swear will prevent this kind of night. Sometimes, though, even putting down her phone and reading a book and listening to soft music isn’t enough. Sometimes, Mara is left staring at the ceiling, well past midnight, thinking about Jamie, thinking about Jude.

Jamie thinks Jude might be with Mara, or at least talking to her. Does that mean something? Does that mean Mara might get an explanation, or to see Jude again? Is Jamie jealous? The bitter, mean part of Mara hopes so. The bigger part of Mara just wants to get some sleep, because her head is fuzzy and her eyes are stinging from continually swiping open to the white glare of her phone.

But no sleep comes.

It’s a little past 1 am when she finally can’t resist anymore, when she finally replies, and if Jamie reads something into Mara’s timing, well, fine.

No.

Jamie writes back within minutes, even though Mara knows she usually goes to sleep early. Nothing?

That’s what no means, Jamie.

Sorry.

The little gray dots pop up, disappear, pop up, disappear. Mara stares at them with morbid fascination. It just keeps getting later, and somehow, she’s never felt less tired. Her eyes burn from staring at the screen, but her mind is buzzing, buzzing. The text comes in. I’m just worried. We haven’t seen her around here for a while.

That makes Mara swallow hard. She flops back against her pillow, thoughts racing overtime. How long is a while? What kind of work do they have Jude doing, anyway? She’s supposed to be helping rescues in safehouses. That’s it. They all know she’s too impulsive for much else, likely to get caught in a fight or shoot her mouth off when she really shouldn’t. Goddamn stupid, impulsive, beautiful righteous Jude.

Mara finds herself on her feet pacing tight circles around her apartment. She’s been so good for so long, keeping all those stray thoughts of her ex out of her head. Now they overwhelm her – Jude’s eagerness, her bright eyes, her godawful sense of navigation, the dimple in her left cheek. Lib work is dangerous, no matter what way you spin it, so what does we haven’t seen her in a while fucking mean? Mara’s been angry and she’s been hurt, and it’s been brewing for months, but when she’s confronted with the idea of Jude in trouble, all that disappears. When she’s confronted with the thought of Jude in danger, all the fight drains out of her as neatly as a glass tipped on its side. Her knees feel weak, and she sits down on the bed again. Jude. If Mara was with her, things would be different. If Mara just knew where she was, could keep an eye on her…

Mara keeps staring at the unhelpful little words on the screen as if they’ll relent and change into something different, better, something that can give her peace of mind. Nothing changes, and she sets her jaw and forces a response, because she’s angry and afraid and she can’t just leave it there, not knowing.

Well, what happened? Aren’t you looking out for her?

I am.

Almost immediately afterwards, I mean, we are. Whatever. Just let me know if you hear from her, okay?

We are. Mara snorts darkly as she reads that, Jamie’s poor attempt at acting innocent. Sure, Jude has other friends, but Jamie is something else. Something more. Jamie is the reason Jude broke up with her. Mara knows it, even if no one will admit anything outright.

Hand coming up to scrub against her temple, Mara heaves out a sigh, and with it, forces down all the toxic, confused fury she wants to spit through the phone screen. When the anger abates, she feels suddenly exhausted, and more than a little afraid.

She reads the text again, focuses on the important part. Just let me know if you hear from her, okay?

Sighing, Mara taps out a response. Yeah. Try to keep her safe, okay?

Another almost instant response. I will.

Anger can’t be long denied, and upon seeing Jamie’s text, it bubbles back up under Mara’s skin. Really? Really, Jamie thinks that she can look after Jude? Mara and Jude dated for a year with no problem, and then as soon as Jamie entered the picture, things went south. Now that it’s just Jamie and Jude, things have gone to shit. So a promise from her doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot.

Mara taps out a message but never sends it, even though she hardly sleeps two hours that night. Time drags by, and she tries to distract herself on the Internet, but over and over she clicks back to her conversation with Jamie, to read the words she wants to send but knows she shouldn’t.

Really, Jamie? You’ll keep her safe? Because it doesn’t sound like you’re doing a very good job.

[forestdivinity]

there’s nothing for me but the dying

You make mountains from molehills, Reginald had always been fond of telling him, you let your fear control you, instead of controlling it. You crave attention; you leave yourself deranged for want of it- The thing was, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Something inside of him was an ache, a great yawning mouth that throbbed like it was teething at all times. It was hungry and all it wanted was to feed, to consume, to fill that emptiness with the tender meat of the world around him. Maybe it was the death of small things inside of him, he was rotting in all the places people couldn’t see. All his life, Klaus had flirted with dangerous situations in an attempt to fill that void. Around him was reality, always twisting. It was a volatile thing, split across two realms. Or he was the distortion, body snapped around an emptiness, trying to exist in life and death at once. Humans weren’t meant for such things, and it terrified him. He had to choose one or the other.

And so the danger-

It was fights with his father that would end with a crack around the ear that always left his head spinning. There wasn’t pain, or there was pain, but it simply melded with the ache of his being, that rot beneath his skin. More impactful than the pain was the touch, the blood beneath Reginald’s fingers, the heat of his hand. Life. And then it was the mausoleum, the cold that seeped into his bones, the hollowness of his body mirroring the emptiness of the room; at least until it was full of spectres, visages of the undead, drawn like moths to a flame. Or one of those sparkling, electric lights, the same blue as the glow of his powers, the cracked lava lamp of his body. Some metaphor, some dream. They flocked to him, all ice and incorporeality. That was Death.

Somewhere between the two, Klaus began to know other dangers. The heat of MDMA and the cold of a comedown (life, death, repeat, start again. It was all cyclical; he was the cycle, something never ending) the touch of a body, the concrete of an alley. He flirted with men and women alike, anyone who caught his eye. Anyone who offered a bump or a hit. 

Danger successfully courted and all that.

-

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Ben moaned at him. It was a familiar complaint, barely a question at the point they were at now. 

“Don’t kid yourself into thinking I have an answer.” Klaus told him, waving his GOODBYE hand in his brother’s direction. Something in his soul ached. Maybe not his soul - did he even have one of those? Was he alive enough? Was he human enough? Maybe it was just his body that ached, that old familiar thing. Rot split open his veins, it flooded through him with every beat of his heart.

What was even the point of that thing? It worked overtime and Klaus didn’t even want it.

“You must have a reason-”

“Oh, you know darling Benny. Benerino. Ghost of my life-” people were looking at him funny now, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, “I’m here for a good time, not a long time and all that.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Klaus.” 

“Drop dead, Benzo. Oh, wait-” He was tetchy, somewhere between the high and the comedown. Ben had been tetchy since he’d died and realised he was stuck with the one brother he’d never been closest to.

Screw him. Screw all the ghosts. Klaus had better things to focus on, even if Ben was the only thing haunting him now, it didn’t mean he wanted to stay sober. Addictive personality, he’d been told once, no drive to help himself. Then again, that doctor had also thought him schizophrenic.

Klaus couldn’t really prove him wrong. Maybe his father had listened to the ramblings of a psychotic child and decided he must be seeing ghosts. Who knew what he should believe anymore, all Klaus wanted was the high. It was the floating that he craved, that heat that flooded his body, the freedom from the expectations of his own mind. Maybe he’d been fucked up since birth, always pushing for more, always looking for danger.

Trauma response, CPTSD, suicidal ideation, another rehab center had written on a chart after three mandatory weeks of group therapy. His fingers had itched then, even though it had been a relatively nice place. Clean, smelling faintly of antiseptic - one Allison had clearly paid for.

He’d only seen two ghosts in his time there, neither one of them screamers. They terrified him nonetheless. Klaus was always terrified: of himself, of the world, of the living and the dead. When sober he remembered his father’s hand, the sound of it cracking against his head. Ouch, what a bastard he’d been. Thinking about Reginald always made his cravings worse.  It was hard not to think about Reginald when he was sober. The man lingered in his mind like a bad smell. Klaus wanted to claw at the soft underside of his belly, imagined opening up the fragile skin there and letting all his rotten organs spill out onto the dirt. The thought gave him nightmares for weeks.  You’re making a mountain out of a molehill again, a voice echoed in his mind., somehow he couldn’t tell if it was his father’s or his own.  “I really think you can do it this time.” Ben told him on the day before they were let out of rehab. His support was nice, if obviously fake, they’d been through this dance enough times. They both knew Klaus wasn’t the type to get better.

Addictive personality. Attention seeker.

“Nah.” He said. Ben sighed, a low, haunted sound. Like a ghost! 

-

“You’re gonna kill yourself one of these days!” Diego seethes from across the hospital room, it’s a wonder the nice nurse from before hadn’t kicked him out yet. She’d been blonde, like their mother, and brought him jello with a wink like she wasn’t meant to be spoiling him.

Klaus had liked her.  

“Pish.” He waved his hands at his brother - brothers, Ben was standing there too with a frown. “Lighten up, it was only one measly overdose.” 

“Fuck you, Klaus! Your h-heart stopped, it took two minutes to revive you-” 

“Impressive timing. Down to the wire there. Gotta admire our healthcare system- oh wait.” Klaus rolled his eyes. Diego’s teeth were grit, above his scar Klaus could see the little vein on his forehead threatening to pop like bubblegum. Inside of him, something ached and snapped. The emptiness was brittle, stale, like it had been left for too long.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this.” Diego sounded angry, but that wasn’t unusual. Strangely, there was a pleading to his face, like if he gave Klaus big enough puppy dog eyes then Klaus would get down on his knees and promise to never do drugs again.

Yeah, right. 

“Then don’t, I’m not keeping you here Diego-” 

“You’re such an ass! You really don’t care about anything other than your habit-” Also untrue. Harder to say though, Klaus thought of street corners and vomit and club lights. Danger, flirted with. 

Couldn’t Diego see he was already dead, dying, dried out in the worst of ways? Existing in two places was exhausting. Sometimes all he wanted to do was sleep. 

Klaus closed his eyes. 

Danger, danger, danger, it rang like a klaxon in his head. His ears rang like someone had smacked him. He could practically hear his father’s disappointment - or maybe that was just Diego scoffing.

“Don’t contact me again unless you’re clean, Klaus. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you die.”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you at the funeral then, hm?” There was a crash and a stomp and a few hissed swear words. Klaus didn’t bother to open his eyes - it was easier to hide his tears that way. Not to mention he didn’t have to see Ben’s disappointed look or the otherwise empty room. 

-

Another month of rehab was ordered by the court, probably only because his daddy was rich and Klaus was still somewhat famous, despite the homelessness and the drug addiction. Childhood fame had its perks, as did the lawyer kept on standby for their family. Reginald wouldn’t rent him an apartment, but so far he’d kept Klaus out of jail - he wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not.

Eventually he settled on not.

It wasn’t as nice as his last one. Klaus saw a ghost with her wrists split, thought of the danger of a knife, and then thought of his brother. 

His stay got extended another month. The lack of drugs was disappointing, but the attention was fun - in the same way that bee stings and casts were fun for about five minutes until the novelty wore off. God, was he bored. 

-drive yourself deranged for want of it, echoes, echoes. Klaus thought of his father often and wished he had a drink or a pill to drown them out. At night they locked him into his room, restraints and all due to the word suicidal in his file, and he had screaming nightmares of the mausoleum, that cool, deadly place.

He needed to get out; he realised. Before, rehab had just been a pain. Something to endure between bouts of danger and death. Klaus bounced between his highs and lows and occasionally thought of killing himself in how most people thought of buying coffee when they were broke. It was hard to take the impulse seriously when he knew (had always known) that he was born halfway to his grave already.

You couldn’t kill something that was already alive.

Now, though, something had snapped. Maybe it was the loss of his brother. Maybe it was the soft leather restraints that they’d clasped around his wrists (as if he hadn’t been trained to escape cuffs when he was eight, as if he wasn’t a child soldier superhero).

“You’re okay, Klaus. You’re not there, you need to calm down-” Ben was telling him. Klaus realised he was crying - screaming again, maybe. Something was cracking, and the sound echoed around the room, like it wasn’t just inside him this time. And then he had a dull realisation that it might be his wrist. That was fine, fun even.

More danger. More pain. God, was he acquainted with it by now, the rot inside of him was going to slip out if he wasn’t careful. Klaus was going to slip out too, right out of this godawful place and out of reality too if he was lucky. He needed a hit.

He’d do just about anything for it.

Surprisingly, no-one had noticed his yelling. Then again, this rehab facility wasn’t as nice as the last one. The one before that? They had all begun to blur together, Klaus didn’t remember what number he was on now. Addictive personality, he remembered, letting your fear control you.

Fuck it, maybe they were right about him - who even cared any longer.

“Klaus, come on, don’t do this- at least get some shoes, Klaus-” Ben was talking, his voice felt very far away. Klaus removed the bars on his window without really knowing how - training had made escaping places instinctive at this point. Klaus hadn’t used the skills since he was fourteen and had gotten kidnapped on a mission but, well, it was like riding a bike! That was how the saying went, wasn’t it?

He didn’t know. He’d never leant to ride a bike.

And then he was outside in the snow, and it was still so, so cold. He realised he wasn’t wearing shoes, socks. Not even a coat. Still, he’d gotten by on worse before, hadn’t he? Another danger to dance around. Only. this time, there was no Diego to fetch him. Fine. It was fine.

-

The ghosts were somewhat easier to deal with for once, while he slowly froze under the foundations of some cracking bridge. It was winter again, like it was every year. Weirdly, Klaus always felt more alive as everything around him rotten and died. 

Well, usually he did. Now he just felt cold and exhausted and on the brink of death. Ben had convinced him to find clothes. He had a pair of boots two sizes too big and a thick fur coat on over his blue gown. Inside of his shoes, his toes curled and went numb - Klaus hoped they didn’t fall off. Sure, he was rotten inside, but he’d rather not be rotting outside too.

If he went to the hospital, they’d just send him back to rehab (or worse). 

Everything hurt from the inside out. The cold made his vision swim. Around him was the familiar stench of mildew and wet earth, like he’d been born and crafted from mud. Sure, it was probably the sludge that had once been a river, but that didn’t mean he liked it. 

Maybe it was Christmas already? Klaus hoped it was, he hadn’t been very good but hopefully Santa didn’t mind - the bastard had a few decades worth of presents to make up.

“I’ll take a bottle of vodka and a bag of cocaine, if you’re out there fat man.” He muttered, hands shoved up under his armpits. It did little to warm them up - for as long as he could remember his hands had been cold.

Poor circulation, dear, don’t forget your gloves, his mother had told him, but Klaus knew better. He was dead and rotten on the inside, and corpses didn’t get to be warm.

“I can’t believe you’re still thinking about drugs-” Ben hissed, as if he had to be quiet. It was ridiculous, Ben was a ghost, and he still insisted on whispering at times, as if anyone but Klaus could hear him.

“Drowns out the ghosties, Benny boy!” Usually, Klaus would throw his arms out to emphasise his point, but he’s a little focused on making sure his fingers don’t fall off.

Useful things, fingers.

“I’m the only one here!” Ben huffs and looks around pointedly.

“Exactly.” 

“God, you need serious help. The drugs aren’t some magic medicine, Klaus, you’re just an addict.” Ben’s voice was a sneer. It’s funny, they’d had never gotten along in life and they’re only doing a fraction better in death. 

Death, because they’re both dead. Klaus is just a bit alive too. Maybe. Some days it’s hard to tell.

He shoots a glare at Ben. It does very little. Inside him the void aches, it wants to take and take and fill itself up on anything it can get. Ben should understand that better than anyone else but Ben is dead and Ben was always too similar to him and Klaus understands, he’s always been too much-

-mountain out of a molehill the voice inside of him reminds and Klaus snaps again. 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s snapped in his life. Sometimes it feels like all he ever does is break.

“An addict who’s tired of hearing your voice!” He hisses. Ben recoils back and stomps off to the other side of the river where he sits and ignores Klaus for the rest of the night.

Well, Klaus assumes it’s the rest of the night.

He passes out after their fight and can’t remember if it was minutes or hours between the silence and the darkness. There’s a blissfulness to being unconscious, but when he wakes up the void is hungry as ever.

-

That’s the cycle, after all. He fucks up; he does something dangerous, skirts between life and death, has a fun time of it all and then fucks up again. Life, death. Living, dying. 

Klaus is an addictive personality stuck somewhere between worlds. Sometimes he wants to blame the cycle for his problems, but he thinks the addiction is just what he’s like on the inside. Nature versus nurture and all that shit.

Maybe its nature versus nature. Himself against his powers. Life against death. God, he hates the contrariness of it all; it makes him want to vomit. Klaus picks himself up, wraps his coat around himself, and wanders towards a shelter he knows gives out free clothes. 

In his body there is a beat playing out, it sings drugs drugs drugs, it sings attention seeker, it sings addict, it sings deranged with want, it sings complex post traumatic stress disorder, it sings mountains and molehills and suicidal tendencies. 

Through it all there is the ringing of a hand against his ear and the chill of old stones against his back. Klaus whistles a tune as he goes. 

Everything is absolutely fine.

[illfoandillfie]

Interloper

Request:  Sorry if this is a weird request but can you do a thing where the reader is apart of Queen and after a concert Roger, Brian and John just pass her around like she’s just holes to fuck but when they’re done they’re all super soft and sweet (and Reader’s maybe a little snarky)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Reader

Warnings: Big Ol’ Smut-fest - 18+!, Hate fucking (kind of?), oral sex (m receiving), degradation, facial, handjob, unprotected sex, anal, light spanking, orgasm delay, choking, nipple play, tit fucking (blink and you’ll miss it), free use,dom/sub dynamics (sub!reader)

Words: 5990

A/N: I seem to have gotten myself a reputation for writing group sex and honestly i love that for me. (Is it my brand?) Anyway, I hope the anon who requested this enjoys it!

Taglist: @laedymoon  @somekind-ofcheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @bowiequeen

The stadium was darker now than it had been when you left the stage. It was quieter too, no longer drowned in the noise of the music or the crowd. They’d been wild, making you feel truly welcome on the stage for the first time since the tour started a week earlier. You sighed and dropped what remained of your cigarette next to your previous one, grinding it under the heal of your boot. If you were lucky the boys would have already headed off to the afterparty, left you to get changed in peace and make your way there in your own time. It was part of why you stayed behind, hidden in the wings as you watched the last of the crowd drift out and roadies pack up the instruments and dismantle the lighting rig. You’d needed a smoke anyway, and to try and burn every second of the show into your long-term memory, so it was the perfect excuse. Although, you would have done anything to avoid the rude comments and criticism that were sure to be hurled in your direction had you headed backstage straight away. Because that’s all you’d been getting lately. Not from Freddie, though if anyone had a right to bitch and moan it was him since you were playing second vocalist. Brian’s attitude you could also understand since they had you on guitar for a couple of songs too, but John and Roger had absolutely no right to treat you as appallingly as they had been. You thought it was out of some stupid sense of band loyalty but Freddie insisted it was because they missed shagging you. Maybe you were both right.  

Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made the solitary journey back to the dressing rooms to change into something a little less stage worthy but no less eye-catching, praying you’d find it empty. You were almost there when you heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor. It had to be them on their way out. With a deep breath you squared your shoulders and held your head high and kept walking right at them. Roger whacked into your shoulder as he passed you, with far too much force for it to be an accident.  “Watch it arsehole,” you spat at his back.  He flicked the V at you.  “Out of the way,” Brian snarled as he shoved past you, followed by a snickering John. You ignored them as best you could, continuing on your way. Clearly the phenomenal show had done nothing to change their minds. If anything, they were more aggro now, having seen the audience, their fans, embrace you wholeheartedly. Freddie was a few steps behind them, flashing you an apologetic look as he reached you, but you waved him off.  “It’s fine,”  “Their being right cocks and you know it.”  “Yeah but I don’t know how to get them to stop. I’ve tried explaining, I’ve tried reasoning, I’ve tried being a bitch, I’m giving up. Clearly it doesn't matter to them that we used to get on so well, so I’m done trying.”  “They need a good stern talking to. Sit them down like naughty schoolboys and yell for a bit.”  You laughed, “Yeah, maybe."  “All I know is It's getting boring, this winging.”  “For me two Fred. But they can’t keep it up for the whole tour, that’s bloody months. They’ll have to get sick of it soon.  His shrug was disheartening but he didn’t have a chance to say much more as Brian called for him to hurry up.  “Do you want me to wait for you?”   “Nah, you go ahead,”  He nodded, leaving you with a squeeze of your shoulder. You took your time getting changed into a short tight dress, sequins around the hem to catch the light, perfect for a party and, bonus, not stinking of your sweat, before grabbing your stuff and heading out to the car.  

The party was in full swing when you got there, music blaring and drinks flowing. You rolled your eyes at the sight of Brian chatting up a woman almost young enough to be his daughter and skirted around them on your way to the bar. You were two shots in, starting to wonder which of the people making eyes at you would be worth your time, when you felt a hand on your waist. Turning your head just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye you realised who it was, cutting him off before he could utter whichever godawful pickup line he was about to use.  “Fuck off Roger, I’m not who you’re looking for.”  His hand slipped away from you, “Oh for fucks sake, it’s you.” He was slurring just enough to notice, “Thought you’d be off slutting it up by now.”  “Isn’t that your job?”  “Pretty rich coming from someone who blew her way to the top. At least I fucking worked for it.”  “You know I worked for it too,”  “Sure, worked at suppressing your gag reflex.”  “God I am so fucking sick of this shit. How many times do I have to tell you none of it was my fucking idea? Freddie was the one who set up the meeting with the record company and they were the ones who thought it’d be a good idea to stick me on the album. I didn’t volunteer for this. Believe me, if I had shagged myself into a record contract I wouldn’t be hanging around with you pricks. I’d be releasing my own album with my own songs.”  “You used to like our pricks. Couldn’t get enough of them.”  “Jesus, Freddie was right.”  “About what?”  “Nothing. Sod off would you? There’s a guy over there who looks hung and easy and your scaring him off,”  “Not me, love, your atrocious singing’s done that already.”  “You’re such a wanker.”  “Bitch,”  “Cunt,”  “Now now children. Meant to be a party.” Freddie said, tapping on the bar for another drink.  “It’s fine Fred, I’m...”  “Don’t you dare say you’re going. This is your party too and it’s much too early for a cohost to leave,” he turned towards Roger, “pull your head in Rog, just for one night.”  “Can’t believe you’d take her side in all this, she’s a fucking bitch,”  “Used that one already Rog, getting sloppy.”  “Oh enough already. I’m sick of the constant bickering. Where are Bri and Deaky we need to have a band meeting, upstairs, now.”  “Christ, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”  “Just find them.” 

Freddie charmed the key to a function room out of the bartender’s hands and the two of you made your way upstairs. You both fell silent as you waited in the dimly lit room. There were a number of large round tables covered in white table clothes, each surrounded by chairs. Some of them were still laid out with cutlery and half-drunk jugs of water, left overs from whichever event had finished before your party started, the staff called away to help man the bar and offer appetisers to everyone downstairs before they could finish tidying up.  “Wonder what was going on in here?” you asked as you sat in one of the chairs  “Wedding reception?” Freddie ventured, halfheartedly.  You both fell silent, not entirely sure what else to say. He’d listened to you whine about the other three enough times to know everything you were thinking and you could tell his patience was wearing thin. It took the others about twenty minutes before they joined you, grumbling the whole time.  “C’mon Fred, what’s this about? Ruined my shot with Tabitha just now,”  “Tabitha? That’s a cat’s name,”  “Shut up Deacy,”  Roger laughed as he dropped into a spare seat, already pushed out from a table.  “Shut up all of you.” Fred said loud enough to make them pause.  John turned away from Brian, looking for a place to sit, when his eyes fell on you, the grin sliding off his face, “What’s she doing here? Thought this was a band meeting?”  “It is,”  “She’s not part of the fucking band Fred,”  “On this tour she is.”  “No way,” Brian half shouted, “If that interloper is here then I’m going,”  “Brian, fucking hell, just stop for two seconds.” Freddie stepped in front of the door to block Brian’s path, and looked over to you. For a moment you thought he was going to try and appease Brian by throwing you out but instead he just said, “give them a right bollocking,” before darting out the door and slamming it shut. All four of you were frozen until you heard the unmistakable sound of the lock and then Brian was at the door, jiggling the knob and yelling, “let us the fuck out of here Mercury, or I swear to God.”  “Not until you sort your shit out.” Freddie yelled back, “I’m off to have another drink, I’ll be back in a few hours and I expect you all to be friends by the time I return.” 

“This is all your fault,” Roger pointed at you, catching the attention of the other two, “You shouldn’t even be here,”  “And why not?”  “Because you’re not part of Queen.”   “You heard Freddie, I am for this tour.”  Your statement was met with scoffs of derision and rolled eyes.  “Jesus, what is your problem?” You turned your back on Brian to glare at John and Roger, waiting for someone to answer. John was the first to speak, surprising you. His resentment had always been a bit quieter than the other two, whispered comments and underhanded criticisms rather than outright name calling. If anyone had been taking bets you would have placed your money on Brian throwing the first stone.   “Our problem is you. Just turned up one day and started singing”  “And playing guitar,” Brian chimed in.  “Yes, exactly,” John continued, pointing at Brian to emphasise his point, “And we had to change shit to accommodate you.”  “It was okay for a song or two but a whole album?” Brian scoffed, “And then we were told you were joining us on tour! Is it gonna happen again with the next album? It’s like your trying to worm your way into a permanent place in this band and we don’t like it.”  “Groupie’s aren’t meant to be on the fucking stage with the band they whore around for.” That was Roger.  “Jesus fucking Christ,” you got to your feet, unable to sit still any longer, “You’re acting like fucking children. You know full fucking well I didn’t organise this and if you really have that much of a problem you can take it up with any of the execs. It was all their idea. Easy way to get my name out there since I’m already acquainted with you.” You paused for a moment to take a breath, “Freddie was fucking right about you. You’re not upset with my performance. You know damn well I can sing and obviously everyone else thinks I’m good enough to be here. No, the real reason you’re all pissed off is that I don't fuck you anymore.” the longer you spoke the louder you got, feeding off the stunned looks the boys were giving each other, “You’re threatened by me because I used to be your groupie and now I’m standing in your spotlight. You’re mad that I’m getting the same sort of attention you used to get from me. Bet you get a little jealous every time you see me with some other guy. Maybe I should take it as a bit of a compliment though, since apparently no one else can suck or fuck as well as me.”  Minutes passed in almost silence, the only sound you huffing as the rage at weeks of mistreatment was released. You caught your breath, and still no one talked. The silence felt like it was closing in on you, pressing against your ears as you waited for one of them to say something in return. When none of them did you brought your hands to your hips and stared them all down, “Nothing to say? Guess that means I’m right. So I’ll make you a deal.”  “A deal?” Brian was trying to act unimpressed but there was curiosity in his tone.  “Tonight. I’ll give you tonight like I used to before you all turned into giant fucking arseholes. And in return you stop bitching about me being here. I’m not going anywhere so either you can accept my offer and be nice to me for the rest of this tour, or you can spend the next couple of months being petty dickheads. No skin off my nose what you choose. Either way I walk away from this one step closer to releasing my own music.”  “What do you mean tonight?” Roger asked, leaning forward in his seat.  “I mean that for the rest of the night I’m yours. You can share me around, do whatever you want with me, treat me like your own personal slut. And then tomorrow you’ll be nice to me. You’ll complement my singing instead of picking apart my performance. You’ll keep your rude comments and name calling to yourselves. And you’ll accept that I’m playing with you until we get told otherwise. Deal?  The three of them looked at each other. Clearly that was the last thing they’d expected you to say.  “Well? Are you in? Because if not I’m happy to try breaking down the door instead.”  “Knees. Now.”  “Jeez, alright Rog,” you rolled your eyes at his sudden shift, “d’you want me to call you Sir as well, or will my silent obedience suffice?”  “God she’s got a mouth on her,” John said, stalking towards where you stood in the middle of them all, “think it needs to be filled.”  “You always did like my mouth, didn’t y-” you were cut off by the way he grabbed your face in one hand, fingers and thumb pressing into your cheeks.  “Bitch has got an attitude problem,” he announced to the other two before lowering his voice and speaking directly to you again, “Now kneel like you were told to, so we can fuck it out of you.”  You nodded as much as you could, cheeks aching under his firm grip. He held you for a moment longer, staring at you as if he were daring you to talk back again, before he let you go. You fell to your knees instantly, looking up at him as he undressed methodically. You would have helped him tug his pants off except that Roger moved to kneel behind you, holding your wrists firmly behind your back while he leaned into your ear.  “You can call me Sir if you like. Daddy works too, know you get wet just saying it. Whatever you choose I hope you’ll remember to keep being good for us, love. We’re gonna use you every single way we can think of tonight. Show you how frustrated we’ve been with this whole situation.” The hand he wasn’t using to pin your wrists moved over your body, making you breakout in goosebumps as he teased your nipples through the fabric of your dress.  “Remind us what your safeword is,” John said, stepping closer as he lazily stroked his dick.  “Saxophone,”  “Saxophone. Good. Now open wide,” he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips and you took him in. Roger’s grip on your wrists tightened as your hand twitched, your instinct to wrap your fingers around John’s cock trying to take over. Instead you had to content yourself with bobbing down his length, pressing your tongue to the underside as you adjusted to him.  “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “gonna deepthroat me like a proper whore.”  You hum caught him off guard and he bucked his hips into you. The gag you made in response ruined any chance you’d had of taking your time to adjust, sending John into a frenzy and encouraging him to make you gag again and again. Before you knew it, he was holding your head steady as he fucked your throat, unrelentingly. Between John’s grunts and Roger’s hand, still toying with your breasts, you were completely oblivious to Brian. So, Roger releasing your hands and Brian yanking one of them up over your head, was a complete surprise. You placed the other against John’s thigh as Brian nudged your open palm with his semi-hard cock, rubbing himself against you until you closed your hand around him. Your position made it difficult to jerk him off properly, but you could feel him getting harder as he rutted into your hand. Roger took advantage of his now free hands, trailing both down your body and onto your thighs before dragging them slowly up and under the skirt of your dress. You could feel the sequins around your hem scratching lightly over your skin as the material was pushed to bunch up around your waist. You jerked your head back, releasing John with a pop as Roger rubbed your clit over your underwear. He stopped too soon, making you whine, and instead placed a hand on the back of your head.  “Thought you said we could do whatever we want with you. Don’t recall anyone saying you could stop,” he pushed your head forward again until you were once again gagging around John, “now this was your idea so you’re gonna be a good whore and take what we give you.” He gripped your hair and pulled you back before shoving you down again, all the while talking in your ear, “John wants you to swallow so you’re gonna swallow. If we want you to beg, you’ll beg. Whatever we give you, you will take and you will thank us for it. We’re going to use every inch of you. We don’t care how prettily you sing for everyone or how much money you make for the execs. We only care about how well you take our cocks, understand?”  You had no hope of responding as John resumed thrusting into your mouth but Roger didn’t seem to mind, more concerned with feeling you up. 

John’s hands replaced Roger’s on your head, his grip tightening as his orgasm drew closer. Each jerk of his hips had you gagging, mascara ringing your eyes where tears had clung to your eyelashes and been blinked off. He came with a string of grunted curses, filling your mouth, and ordered you to swallow before he let go of you, streaks of bright lipstick left in your wake. Brian gave you the few seconds it took for him to move in front of you and kick off his pants before he was grabbing your hair and pulling your mouth to his cock. With both hands free you clung to his legs, creating small, crescent shaped indents on the back of his thighs. You only noticed Roger’s absence when John, sunk to his knees beside you, his fingers taking up where Roger’s had been, prying your underwear away from you for long enough to shove his hand inside and run his fingers along your slit, pausing at your clit to rub it softly.  “God you’re fucking soaked,” he laughed, “Don’t know why I’m surprised. You came up with this little plan way too quickly for it to be spur of the moment. I think you’ve missed being our fuck toy. Probably been looking for an excuse to present yourself to us like this. I think you like being used by us and I think you missed having your holes full of us. Missed how we taste, how we make you feel,” his fingers pressed harder against your clit briefly before shifting back to the softer touch, “I think the spotlight of the stage can’t compare to the rush you feel knowing you’ve been a perfect whore for us.”  You whined around Brian earning a panted laugh from him,  “That’s right, slut,” he said from above you, “keep making those sounds. Know you want me to cum in your mouth. And all it does is prove us right.”  John pushed a finger into you, and another of your whines was muffled by Brian, burying his cock in your throat, holding you with your nose pressed into his pubic hair. A shiver ran through your body as your dress was unzipped, falling open to expose your bare back. Your chest tightened, screaming for air, and you frantically tapped on Brian’s thigh. He let you go, reeling backwards with a final gag as he slipped from your mouth and you were free to gasp for air.   “F-fuck,” you managed to choke out as your dress was unceremoniously pushed off your shoulders and down your arms. Brian was still in front of you, hand sliding up and down his shaft as he readjusted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head up a little higher.  “Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he growled, holding you still. The last thing you saw before you shut your eyes was his hand speed up, working himself to release his load over your face. Some of it landed on your tongue but more splattered over your cheek and chin.   Brian chuckled as he ran two of his impossibly long fingers over your chin, pushing the cum up to your lips. You dutifully sucked on his fingers but a loud bark of laughter distracted both you and Brian. 

“What the fuck are you doing carrying lube around in your jacket, Rog?” John was collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.  “What? Thought that girl with the big arse might show up again tonight, wanted to be prepared.”  “You’ve been wearing the jacket all day, how long has it been in there?”  “Not that long, Crystal got it for me after the show. But y’know,” he pushed on your back between the shoulder blades until you fell forward onto your hands, “you wanna make fun of me, you won’t get to fuck her arse.” He brought his hand down onto your backside, making you jump. You felt your dress being pushed up to your waist, and your underwear being slipped down your legs until they were tangled around your knees. There was a brief pause as you heard him unzip is his pants. The next thing you expected to hear was him popping open the lube, but instead he eased into your cunt. He went slow but it made your breath catch in your throat all the same. Once he was buried in you as deep as he could go he began to pull out again, almost all the way before he snapped his hips forward, driving back into you hard.  “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, letting yourself collapse on your arms, resting your head against them. You could feel the last of Brian’s cum smearing across your cheek and onto your arm as Roger continued his slow pace. You’d almost forgotten about the lube until you head him flick open the tube. It was cold against you when he squirted a generous amount over your arse, carefully using his fingers to begin stretching you out. You moaned, the combination of his fingers and his cock pushing you steadily closer to orgasm. But not fast enough. You moved your arm, slipping it under your body with the idea of rubbing your clit until you came.  “Would one of you stop her?”  John grabbed your arm and pulled it back before you could get your fingers where you wanted them.   “No, please, I need more,” you whined, shifting your other arm out from under your head. Brian grabbed that one, both of them pinning your wrists out in front of you.  “Please let me touch,” you said into the carpet, trying to wriggle free of their grip. Roger brought the hand that wasn’t occupied down on you again, drawing a yelp from you.  “Told you we were gonna show you how frustrated we’ve been. So you don’t get to cum that easily. If you’re good you’ll be rewarded.”  He picked up his pace, rolling his hips into you faster, making you cry out though he wasn’t angled quite right to hit your g-spot. Without warning he pulled his fingers from your arse and you found yourself being yanked up, Roger’s hand wrapping around your throat to hold you against his chest. You could hear Brian laughing as your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned, only for Roger to squeeze your throat and cut it off. For a moment you floated there, willing Roger to just make you cum, but the sound of a chair being dropped in front of you brought you back to the room. John sat down and leaned forward to grab your tits, tugging on your nipples until you winced.   “Y’know, going bra-less was completely unnecessary in that dress. Just more proof you wanted to whore around for us.” He said as he used his hold on your nipples to pull you away from Roger’s chest. Roger’s hand remained tight on your throat as John slid his cock between your breasts, using his grip and the motion of Roger’s thrusts into you, to push them up and down his shaft.  “She likes it when you call her a whore. Fuckin’ squeezes her cunt.”  “Is that right, huh? You want to be our pretty cumslut that badly? Good. We’re gonna cover you in it. Gonna fill you so full of spunk you won’t be able to move without it dripping down your legs. And you’re going to beg for it, aren’t you? Go on, beg roger to cum in your pussy.”  “Pl-ease, Roger, please cu-m in my pussy.”  “More,” Roger growled as he rammed into you again and again, rapidly heading towards his climax.  “Pl-please cum in me Rog. I nee-ed it. Want, want to fee-l you fi-ll my pussy.”  Roger slammed into you twice more, hard, holding himself balls deep in you as he hit his release, grunting, voice strained as he told you what a good whore you were. 

You whined as his softening cock slipped out of you and he moved aside. But you didn’t have time to miss the feeling of being filled too much before Brian was placing his arms under your shoulders and lifting you to your feet. John stood and pushed your dress and panties from you completely, leaving you naked. You let them pull you around, barely able to concentrate on anything other than the ache between your legs and the tight coil in your stomach that felt like it could spring loose at any moment. John pushed himself onto one of the tables, legs dangling over the edge as Brian lifted you up too. You were unceremoniously dumped on John’s lap, his hands pulling you until you were lined up with his cock. He swatted at your thigh. You squeaked and sunk down onto him, rocking against him.  “Where’d that lube go?”  There was some shuffling noises from somewhere behind you followed by a triumphant, “aha!” and then John was grabbing your hips to stop you as Brian came closer. When he spoke he was right behind you, his breath on your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “Since Rog was so good as to stretch you out for me, shouldn’t have any problems taking my cock,” he turned and spoke over his shoulder, “Thanks Rog.”  “Yeah yeah, whatever,” Roger said, voice distorted by the cigarette between his lips.  You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around John’s neck as Brian spread your cheeks and began easing himself into you. John teased you the entire time, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he told you how hot you sounded whimpering like you were. By the time Brian was fully sheathed inside you, you were panting against John’s shoulder, desperate for one of them to move properly. You squirmed between them, trying to encourage them to fuck you but neither was having it.   Brian slapped your thigh, “Hold still. You’ll get to cum once you’ve proved you can be a good slut for us.”  “I will. I am. I promise I’ll be the best slut you’ve ever had, please just fuck me.” You whined, lifting your head up so they could all hear you properly.  A chorus of laughter followed, even as you continued to beg. You were cut off mid word as Brian pulled back and plunged into you again, starting slow but rapidly picking up speed. John leaned back on one hand, his other resting on your hip, letting you rock forward on his cock with every one of Brian’s thrusts. It was by no means the first time you’d ridden John or the first time you’d let Brian in your back entrance, but you’d never had them both at the same time before. You were left completely breathless, feeling fuller than you ever had in your life. Brian was in your ear, breath coming hard as he semi-coherently grunted his thoughts about how fucking tight you felt and how much he’d missed fucking you like this. His hands were all over you, trying to find the best way to hold you as John did the same, occasionally knocking each other out of the way. The closer to the edge he drew, the tighter John held you, pushing himself to sit up a little more so he could grip you with both hands. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them practically fighting over where they could touch you, hold you, the almost innocent skin to skin contact making you burn up. Your own moans were rising in pitch as Brian slammed into you repeatedly, each thrust making your clit drag against John’s pubic bone. You shook as you finally came, feeling Brian still behind you, shooting ropes of cum into you as he groaned in your ear. John dropped his head to your shoulder as you clenched around him, swearing as he came.   “Shit,” he gasped as his orgasm subsided, “Was planning to cum on your tits. Pussy just felt too good though.” 

You could feel the mix of his and yours and Roger’s cum dripping down the inside of your thigh as John gingerly helped you off the table.   “Does that mean she’s ready for me again?” Roger asked, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. You whimpered as he spun you round, pushing you to bend over the table. He wasted no time, plunging into your arse as you balled up the crisp white tablecloth in your fists.  “Like you best like this, a fucked out whore, all placid and obedient. No more snarky fucking comments. Just holes begging to be filled.”  You cried out as his fingers found your clit, relentlessly determined to push you over the edge again. Cum dripped out of you with every shift of your hips, little drops hitting the floor between your feet. All you could do was whine and moan as Roger ruthlessly used you, gasping and groaning himself.  “Attagirl,” Roger gently cooed when you came, shaking. He slapped your arse again as he drew closer to the edge, leaning his whole body weight on you as he fell over it. He removed himself from you and helped you to stand, catching you when your legs began to give out. You were gently lowered to the floor where you lay down, arms spread wide, breathing deeply.  “You look good like this,” Brian said, kneeling beside your head, “Makeup all smudged, sweaty and dripping. You look used.”  “You laughed softly as he lifted your head and shoulders, propping you up so you could lean against his knees.  Roger reached out to brush a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “Are you okay?”  “Yeah,” you cleared your throat to make your voice stronger, “Especially since you’re all being nice to me again.”  “Sorry we were such pricks, promise you won’t hear another bad word from us. Unless it’s well deserved.”  Before you could respond John was dropping beside you, a jug of water in one hand and a handful of paper napkins in the other.  “Sorry, door’s still locked so we can’t actually get to the bathroom or anything. But I found these on one of the tables, if you wanted to clean up.”  You thanked him, dipping the corner of one napkin in the water and taking it straight to your face, scrubbing to remove the remnants of Brian’s cum from your cheek.  “Hang on, love, missed a spot,” Roger said, taking the napkin from you and swiping at your chin. You could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible, smiling at you when you thanked him. Brian’s fingers found their way to your arms, trailing soft, calming lines up and down your skin as you relax into him. John did a similar thing over the calf he’d knelt beside, although it felt less deliberate than Brian’s movements.   “Do you want some help cleaning up the rest of it?” John asks, pointing vaguely between your legs, cheeks still slightly flushed from the exertions of the previous few hours.  “Jeeze Deaky, give her a chance to recover before you try and get started on round...what are we up to?”  “Bugger off, that’s not what I meant,” John says, shoving Roger slightly. He turned to you, “I swear it wasn’t. You just look tired.”  “I know, John,” you reassure him, “but I think I’d rather do it myself. Sensitive and all that.”  Brian dipped his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “None of us have said it yet but you were wonderful. Firstly, for suggesting it and also for taking it all so well.”  “Y’know it’s a bit of a shame you didn’t add to the mess, Brian. Could have had all three of you leaking out of me.”   “There’s still time,” Roger said, grinning mischievously at you, “technically you did promise us the rest of the night, and if I’ve gotta hold my tongue around you for months then I’d like to get as much use out of you as I can.”  “He’s right, you did say all night. And I’m certain we could find plenty of other ways to keep you busy.”  “Are you guys serious?” you said as you tilted your head back to look up at Brian, “You really wanna go again? Now?”  “Don’t worry, we’ll need a bit of time to recover first.”  “Perhaps,” John said, leaning in slightly, “Once we get out of this room, we can take you back to the hotel and figure out what else to do with you. Personally I’d like to see your tits painted with cum, but I’m sure the other two have ideas of their own.”  “Might have to stuff your panties into your cunt to stop any more from dripping out of you.” Roger said, voice low and rough, making you clench your thighs together.  “I guess I did say all night,” you said, trying not to sound too excited, “but this means I get to write a song on the next album.”  “Don’t push it, love. Just because we’re being nice doesn’t mean we’re over it.” 

By the time Freddie remembered to come and get you the four of you had redressed and cleaned up the mess you’d made. He’d opened the door to find you sitting around talking and laughing.  “Well this is different,” his voice drew your attention, “Thought I’d come back and find at least some evidence of a fight. But instead, no yelling, no broken chairs, no black eyes.”  “We came to an agreement,” you said shrugging, “They’re going to play nice from now on.”  “Y/N you common hussy, you fucked them all didn’t you? You know that’s not the sort of bollocking I meant.” 

[dandelion-vines]

Incest AU time!! Kinks in this one: incest mostly, praise, Geralt having a big cock like woah 😳 So, Geralt has a son, Jaskier. He’s about 18. One day, he goes on some rather lewd sites, and sees and hears a familiar, soft voice moaning ‘daddy’, along with the sight of his oen son wearing a skirt and riding a dildo. He decides to punish his boy by fucking him, following his exact begs he had heard the day before of breeding him full of cum.

Yeah im gonna go ahead and say it: im proud of this one, @squidskinks

thank you so much for this prompt i legit had to much fun with it. Also can we  get a hell yes for genderqueer jask and a respects-pronouns-loves-his-kid geralt?? because hell yes. i love them

tags: incest, ask to tag (im not sure what else it needs)

——

Geralt glances at Jaskier's wrist as he drinks his morning coffee. He—they're wearing the purple bracelet today, matched up with a yellow-striped romper and a baseball cap that says Dad on it. Fashion, Geralt'll never understand, but the bracelet is easy an indicator.

"You ready to go, Julek?" Jaskier tucks wisps of their wavy hair behind their ears, smearing lip gloss onto their lips before tugging their backpack on. Tsk, no breakfast, even— Geralt's mindful to shove pop-tarts and an apple into their bag as they tug their converse on. 

"Yeah Dad, just a second." Geralt hums, grabbing the keys to the car. 

"Lock the door—"

"Yeah, yeah, Dad, lock the door behind you and pinch yourself so you remember you locked it— I've got it old man," they tease with a wink. Fucking teenagers, Vesemir would've given him a Look for that sort of behaviour, but what can Geralt say? He's soft.

He drops Jaskier off at school—fuck, their ass looks good in— "Bye, Dad!"

Geralt hums, waves, and turns the godawful radio up.

He pours himself two fingers of white gull when he gets home, and settles down on the sofa, laptop balanced on his lap— first day off in a fucking week, the hospital's been crazy busy and— Geralt lets his drink burn down his throat, a distraction to his work-wandering mind.

Funny thing about alcohol though— it makes him fucking horny. Geralt gasps, palming over his cock, his eyelids fluttering as he takes another sip. Fuck. He can't remember the last time he'd indulged like this, not to mentioned actually had sex with someone.

It's quick work to pull up a pornsite, lip bit as he palms himself, scrolling through thumbnails of cunts, dicks, and tits and— oh what's this?

The video reads horny boy fucks his dildo and moans for Daddy, and those pale thighs and pink dick framed by a baby-pink skirt rucked up to show it all off... promising.

Geralt clicks on it, leaning back into the sofa as he tugs his cock out of his joggers, letting it lay against his stomach as he palms it.

The video starts with the boy sitting criss-cross, face out of frame. He's wearing an oversized sweater and a pink skirt, playing with his sleeves as he talks, tells Daddy about his day, and his voice is oddly familiar.

And the bitch called me a horsefucker, Daddy— and honestly, he shifts, leaning back against the wall, planting his feet on the ground and parting his knees to show off his half-hard cock—if you breed me like a mare, Daddy, I'd count it.

Geralt stares slack-jawed at the screen, and Jaskier's face stares back, eyes hooded as they fist their cock.

Fuck— what the fuck, his barely-legal fucking kid's doing porn? Geralt should be fucking mad, but all he feels is shock and arousal. Julek's cock's so pretty, long and thick, so unlike the last time Geralt had seen it when his kid'd been but seven, washing them in the bath after a long evening at the pool. They're so fucking grown up, Geralt can't beleive it.

Been dreaming of your cock for so long, Daddy— Geralt can't even close off the site, watching in rapt attention as his kid fingers themself, moaning as they scissor their ass open and Melitele, this is Geralt's fucking child, and yet, all he can do is watch.

Julek lubes up a dildo (a fucking dildo?? Is that what they'd done with their birthday money?) and teases their hole with it, looking entirely wanton as they lay ass-up on the carpet. Please, please fuck me Daddy, fuck your pretty whore, I've been so good— Ah! Fuck, breed me yesyesyesyes—"

Geralt's movements are just as desperate as Jaskier's as he strips his cock, friction too much but he doesn't fucking care, eyes trained on his kid's ass fucking swallowing that dildo, as big as it is.

Breed me, Daddy, put a pup in me so you can fuck it, too, fuck, Daddy, wouldn't you like that? A— ah!— another cute cunt to fuck— please Daddy, breed my pussy, breed your boy's pussy, Daddy— Fuck!"

Geralt feels fucking dizzy, spilling over his hand with a buck and a groan. He hears Jaskier's voice raise in pitch, a constant stream of fuck, yes, please, breed me, mindlessly escsaping his mouth as he cums untouched to the dildo in his ass.

Geral watches, breathless from his own orgasm, and decidess he fucking is going to breed his kid's ass.

~~

His stomach is a flutter of nerves and lust, an evening spent binging his kid's porn and he’s probably a hair's trigger on his cock at this point. Not that it matters, he could probably cum a hundred times over, his balls so fucking full after a week of not getting off. Geralt stretches, sweatpants low on his hips, shirtless as he bites into another cookie (he'll have to hide his box of cookies before Jaskier got home; he’d, unfortunately, inherited Geralt's sweet tooth).

"Dad! You home?" The door slams open and fuck, what's the point, he can always buy more cookies, he wants to fucking breed his bitch.

Geralt brushes the crumbs off himself as he walks for the door, Jaskier struggling with their heels. "Dad—" he does a double take as he looks at Geralt leant against the archway between the living room and the enterance to the house, muscles rippling as he tucks his arms into his elbows, sweatpants showing off the vee of his hips. 

"Daddy—" Jaskier mutters, breathless as if in a trance before he duck his blushing face and finally kicks his heels off. "Hi— uh," his kid glances at him, eyes trained on the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Want me to breed you till you're filled up, Jask? What was it— till you can give me another cute cunt to fuck?" 

His kid's breath hitches and they either looks like they're about to run or have a panic attack. "Julek," he mutters, coming to cup their cheek, adoring the way Jaskier melts into the touch. Bright blue eyes look up at him, fluttering closed as Geralt brushses his lips over theirs. "Do you want this?" He whispers, fingers tingling as they slip down to Jaskier's waist.

"You're really offering, Dad?" Geralt pressess a soft kiss to their nose, before resting his forehead againsnt theirs. He takes their hand, guiding it to his cock with a hum and a breathless sigh as Jaskier gives his cock a gentle squeeze.

They kiss in ernest then, and for all the minx Jaskier claims to be, they're a sloppy kisser, woefuly unexperienced and does that thought bring a whimper to Geralt’s mouth, that he's probably his kid's first kiss.

He has half a mind as he coaxes Jaskier into a jump, holding them up as he makes for his bedroom down the hall. "You were so pretty, Julek, flushed pink—" Jaskier moans as Geralt nips at his neck, laying them down onto the bed before working them out of their romper.

"Melitele—is this for me?" His eyes are trained on his kid's panties, thin material showing of their cock. "Can I, pretty Jask?" His kid shudders as he moans a yes, their fingers tangling in Geralt's hair as he lips at their pretty cock. He hooks his fingers into the waistband, kissing at their hips, down their leg as he works it off.

He takes a moment to admire them, skin flushed pink, cock half-hard. Their carefuly-done hair flops over their forehad, mussed and messy, their lips swollen just barely from their kiss. He can't believe he's doing this, fucking his kid, mouth watering to press kisses down his chest, to lick at his nipples— fuck.

"You're gorgeous, Julek," and Jasksier pants from where he lays, eyes trained on Geralt as he reaches to his bedside drawer for his lube. "I've been watching your videos all evening— thought you'd been doing homework, not that you were being a cute slut for everyone to see."

"Daddy please," and who's Geralt to deny his kid that (or anything for that matter). He lets his fingers circle their hole, pink and twitching under his movements, before he slips a finger in, Jaskier sighing as if he's found peace after years at war.

"Fuck, Jask, didn't know you were such a whore, baby." Jaskier nods, biting down on his lip, looking for all the world like he's about to cry.

Geralt runs a thumb over their lower lip, pressing the pad of it into his smouth. "None of that, Jas, you don't need to feel bad; it's normal to have urges and to want to share them."

Jaskier whimpers as he continues,"—suck for me, baby, and I might let you suck my dick at dinnertime, too; wouldn't you like that? Being Daddy's bitch? You're so desperate for it, aren't you, pretty Julek? Can't stop begging for your Daddy to breed you?" He works another finger into him; it'll take at least four, and he's willing, anything to keep his boy safe and comfortable.

He brushes against their prostate, watching them cry out— fuck they're so beautiful— and go to touch their cock.

"No, Jaskier, naughty boys don't get to touch their cocks; you'll cum from my dick in your cunt, or none at all, undersood?"

Jaskier whimpers, slobbering on Geralt's thumb as they mutters out a small Yes, Daddy, hips bucking as Geralt brushes against their sweet spot again. 

They're an incoherent mess by the time Geralt works in four fingers, arching off the mattress as they beg, “Daddy please, I'll be good, please fuck me Dad! Fuck breedmebreedmebreedme—”

"Gods, you're so hungy for my cock, aren't you, Jask?" He mumbles, teasing his kid's hole with his tip, not quite pushing in. "Want your Daddy's cum? Want the same cum that made you to fill up your sluttly hole, baby?" He leans forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s, head tilted as he fucks his tongue into their mouth, swallowing their moans as he slowsly pushes his cock into their hole.

"Fuck, Jaskier, you're so tight— so perfect for me, I love your cunt, baby," he whispers against Jaskier's lips, every muscle in his body tense from keeping himself from fucking plowing into his kid.

"You ready for me to move, sweetheart? Want me to fuck you like you begged me to?"Jaskier gasps as Geral bucks into him, dragged to and fro as Geralt fucks into him, fast and rough and hard— this is punishment after all, for being such a slut for all the world to see, Geralt's child fucking themself open in front of millions.

The thought only makes him fuck faster, holding Jaskier's hips up from where they lay on the bed, back against the mattress.

Jaskier's hands grip at the bedsheets, lips parted— they look entirely cockdumb, eyes crossing as their dick squirts pre, such a sesnitive little cock; Geralt aches to press kisses up it, but settles for breeding his ass intead.

His kid whimpers, shaky hands coming to pinch at their cute nipples— their ass tightens around Geralt's cock, and fuck, Geralt cums with a groan, his kid moaning as they’re bred, warm cum filling their ass. He pumps in a couple more times till they're both far too sensitive, collapsing next to Jaskier on the bed.

"Daddy," his kid whimpers stomach dripping cum, their cock’s spend, onto Geralt's sheets a they turn, cuddling into his side and onto his chest, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Geralt wraps an arm around his kid's hip, bringing them closer, pressing a kiss into their sweaty hair. "'s alright, Julek," he brushes their lips together, delighting in the way his kid sighs and tries to deepen their kiss. "Never thought you'd be such a kinky bitch when I held you in my hands for the first time, Jas, fucking your own dad."

Jaskier hides their head into Geralt's neck, their cheek hot against his neck. "Like you didn't enjoy it, old man," he mumbles.

Geralt huffs a laugh, runnig his fingers through Julek's hair, holding is kid close. "No, not like I didn't."

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

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AO3

This is another rough one, so pay attention to the tags.

...

He’s scared. He knows it’s stupid, Remus goes through this every single day, he should be brave, like his brother, but he’s terrified, because he’s gotten complacent, gotten used to not being taken.

 And he knows from Remus’s face, bruised and bloody, and how hard his brother fought, that he has the same sinking feeling in his gut, that something is going to happen, something bad is coming, and he wishes he had more than a brief glimpse of eye contact to say his goodbyes before they dragged him away.

 It’s the examination table. The smell of sterile cleaners fills the space, making his nose burn from the potency of it, as his ankles and wrists are shackled. He can feel his breath starting to speed, his heart starting to race as panic sets in, as he pulls at his restraints, though he knows it won’t do any good.

 “-don’t need them much longer anyway, should get new specimens soon, to repeat the tests, make sure they’re an accurate representation of their species’ capabilities.” He shivers, going completely still at that voice, as the door opens, The Scientist entering. He’s never seen his face, he’s always wearing a mask, a full body suit, that is always stained red by the end of these sessions.

 “Please. Please don’t.” He knows begging won’t get him anywhere, but he can’t help it.

 “Sedate him. I don’t need him whining through this procedure.” He hears the doctor snap, and he gasps as he feels cold gloved hands on his arm, a needle shoved into his skin. “Experiment 1.552: Organ removal. As the subjects are coming to the end of their usefulness, we will be measuring the effect of the removal of internal organs. We’ll start with the organs it seems humans don’t need, today the appendix. We’re using subject 2, given his much healthier physical state, for the most accurate results. We’ll give that a week, then move on to the liver…” the doctor’s voice goes hazy, the world around him spinning, colors flowing and shifting, like a kaleidoscope. He feels a sharp pain in his side, but it dims quickly, along with his awareness as he fades in and out.

…

Sirens. There are sirens. He can feel an aching, blazing pain in his side, as he half stumbles, is half dragged, down the hallway. Lights are blaring red, flashing and spinning, the sound is so loud, he can hear shouts, screams, orders being shouted but his mind can’t make sense of it, then he’s shoved through a door, and nearly falls to his knees, a strange pressure in his chest, but then Remus is there, lowering him to the ground, alarm bright in his eyes. His own drift shut for a moment, but flare open at the pressure atop the burning spot, a hoarse scream escaping his lips.

 “R… rem…” he chokes out, vision blurred and hazy, but he knows that gentle touch, knows it’s Remus, and if he’s with Remus, he’s safe. The pressure in his chest increases and he coughs, spitting out blood, distantly, he knows that’s not a good sign.

 “Shh, shh, it’ll be ok, RoRo, I’m gonna-“ Remus’s voice shakes, and he feels his brother take in a deep breath, “gonna patch you right up, just like always, yeah? Sound good?” He feels Remus gently stroking his hair, his hand pressing down on his abdomen, and Remus smiles at him, that smile lighting up his whole world, before he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

 “d…don’t think y-y-you can.” He whispers, choking on the liquid in his lungs, slipping further and further from awareness, distantly, he hears screaming, then his world fades to black.

…

He’s in another operating room. He’s weak, he can’t fight, but he tries anyway, though his chest is tight and he can’t draw in enough air, and where is he, where is Remus, what are they doing to him now?

 “None of that, now. Easy, darling.” A gentle but firm hand on his shoulder pushes him back down, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. A scaled, sharp face comes into view. That’s strange, the guards always wear masks, always hide their faces. “we’re fixing you up. You sustained a deep injury to your abdomen, it nicked a vein. You lost a lot of blood and suffered severe internal bleeding and trauma. We need you to stay still, alright?” The being reaches out, carefully stroking his cheek. He leans into the gentle touch, letting his eyes slip closed again. He doesn’t know why, but he believes him.

 “losing him-“

 “nearly done!”

 “venom-“

 Then something warm sweeps through his veins and he gasps in a deep breath, the luxury of oxygen in his lungs sweet enough it knocks him unconscious.

…

Bits and pieces.

…

Someone dabbing at his forehead with a cool rag.

…

Soft hands wrapping his abdomen in bandages, that same scaled face coming into view as he hisses in pain, saying something his cotton filled ears can’t comprehend.

…

Water, cool, sweet, water, hitting his tongue and he swallows, unable to even open his eyes, hearing the distant murmuring of people talking lowly.

…

He tries to call out, tries to reach out, because Remus, where is Remus, he needs to know, he needs to see if he’s safe, if he’s safe!

…

He’s fighting, screaming, crying, he can’t stop, he’s afraid, he’s sitting up, barely registering the warm blankets, the softly lit room, trying to lunge to his feet, only succeeding in falling to the ground, gasping in pain at the searing shock of electric ice shooting up his right side, vision blurring, but he can’t stop, he has a gnawing sense in his gut that Remus is in trouble, Remus is hurting, he needs to find Remus!

 “Darling, what are you doing?!” He looks up, blinking several times at Janus’s voice, he thinks that’s what the Naga has said his name is, he can’t quite remember through the haze that fills him. He feels Janus helping him up, settling him back in the bed, pushing him down as he tries to get back up.

 “Remus! Where… where is he… where…” his eyes jerk to the door as it opens, jerking fully aware and awake for the first time in what feels like years, at the sight of a tall, crystalline man and a winged figure carefully carrying Remus.

 “REM!” He cries out, trying to jolt out of bed, jolt to his brother, but Janus just pushes him back again, simply arranging the pillows so he’s halfway sitting up, before Janus backs away, allowing the other two to lay Remus down beside him. Instantly, he is pulling Remus to his chest, running his hands through his brother’s hair, up and down his arms, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to stop watching every inhale and exhale.

 “Is he ok? What happened to him? What happened to his hand?” He asks, noticing the bandage wrapped tightly around his knuckles.

 “He is fine. Due to a severe stress reaction, he passed out, after having an emotional outburst. He just needs rest. As do you.” Then the crystal man is gone. The winged one shoots him a small smile before following, leaving only Janus with him, watching him silently for a moment.

 “thank you.” Janus startles at his words, puzzled expression slipping across his face.

 “For what?”

 “For getting him out of there. Getting us out of there. For… for saving him.” He says softly, looking up at Janus, eyes watery. Janus lets out a surprised laugh.

 “You were the one bleeding out in that godawful hellhole, and Logan is the one that patched you up. You were the one dying.”

 “maybe. But he was the one who was gonna pay for it, in the end.” Janus nods, eyes softening with understanding, and Roman gets the feeling that Janus understands perfectly what he means.

 “Well. Get some more sleep. And if you try to get up again, I swear I will knock you out myself.” Janus says, startling a laugh out of him. He sees Janus’s eyes light up, his own smile growing, before he turns and walks out the door with a small wave, leaving them alone.

 He pulls Remus a little closer, breathing in his scent as he closes his eyes, safety washing over him.

 …

 He wakes slowly, realizing that Remus shifting and stirring is what has woken him up. Immediately, he starts murmuring again, smoothing back Remus’s hair. He can pinpoint the exact moment Remus wakes fully, his eyes shooting up to take in his face, staring at his eyes, breath hitching before Remus buries against him, sobbing.

 “please… please don’t… I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fought, I should have fought harder, I thought you died because of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…” Remus trails off, his sobs shaking his entire frame, and Roman holds him closer, his own tears welling to the surface. “I let them take you away, I thought they took you away, they took you.”

 “Remus, Remus, Remus, I know, I know, it’s not your fault, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here, I’m here, and you’re here and we’re safe now.”

 “don’t go. Don’t… don’t go, don’t leave, please, please, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go, I can’t… I can’t if you go. Please stay.” Remus begs desperately, eye to eye with him, and he feels his own heart breaking, forcing a smile to his face as he brushes back his brother’s hair.

 “I’m not, I’m not going anywhere. I promise, Rem, I absolutely promise.” He yawns, exhaustion slipping back over him like a heavy, comforting blanket, and he feels Remus slip behind him, cradling him against his chest, carding his hands through his hair, and feels… happy, yawning once more as Remus shifts closer.

 “Go to sleep, brobro. I’ll be ok. As long as you’re ok, I’ll be ok. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Never, never, never. I swear.” He smiles, letting his eyes slip closed, because he knows Remus will be right there, when he wakes up.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 9 Part 2

Posting a little early today!

Mention of guns.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 9, cont. 2019

Sunday, six days until Armageddon

The shadows were long in the garden. It was summer, and the sun had begun to think about slipping placidly beneath the skyline. The leaves of the apple tree dappled the orange light upon the lawn. They swayed in a humid breeze.

A glum-looking ten-year-old sat swinging his legs on the sturdiest branch. Next to him, coiled up and listening intently, was a large black snake.

“She said it made me look grown-up.” The boy gave a careworn laugh.

“Ugh,” said the snake, sympathetically.

“She’s a grown-up, and she gets to keep her hair long. I told her, I’m growing it for a reason. Don’t want everyone staring at this stupid thing all day, do I?”

Adam gloomily scratched his close-cropped hair. His nails raked the base of a red, curled horn on the left side of his head.

“Tarquin’s going to be here, and he’s gonna call me rhinoceros-head all day.”

“Headbutt him,” suggested Crowley.

“I did once, and his dad threatened to sue.”

That sounded about right, from what Crowley gathered about the Dowlings’ social set.

“I don’t get why she wants me to be normal and not head-butt people, but then she takes me down to a weird old barber who smells like dad when she’s throwing a fancy dinner, and shaves all my hair off. I’m practically bald now. It’s all everyone’s going to talk about.”

“Weeell.” Crowley wiggled his head from side to side. “You know, being the birthday kid has its perks.”

Adam gave him a withering look. “Like what, getting the secret service to karate chop them? I’ve tried that, too. Nobody listens to me.” He sighed, theatrically.

Crowley said nothing. Adam clearly hadn’t grasped that what he had just said was categorically untrue.

“Sometimes they really don’t listen,” Adam mused. He tilted back to stare into the leaves. “Like, they can’t hear me. Like someone’s scooped their brains out.”

Crowley’s long body gave a nervous twitch.

“Once I asked Dad if he used to hear voices at night, too, and he screamed.” Adam looked disturbed in remembrance. “Like he’d stayed up all night watching fifteen-rated movies. That’s how scared he looked. And then he looked at me and it was like he forgot what had just happened, and he looked confused and scared. And then he smiled and asked me what I wanted for my birthday.” Adam shook his head in disgust.

Crowley was unsurprised. The mental disintegration of the remaining humans left in this place was a long time in the mix. There was only so much memory erasure, perception alteration, and of course walking in on eldritch horrors using the bathroom,[1] that the human mind could take. The demons had got bolder the more their numbers grew. The last human staff member had broken down, weeping, five months ago, and been promptly replaced by a motivated imp. The only people, besides the Dowlings, who had stayed on were secret service members, though turnover was still high, and the men and women Crowley saw patrolling the grounds stroked their guns for reassurance a lot, even by American standards.

If Crowley had been in charge of this operation - just saying - the whole thing would have been handled discreetly, with subtlety and finesse. But Hastur simply loved being cartoonishly appalling, so there they were.

“Thing is,” Adam said, “I don’t even know what I want for my birthday.”

Crowley was aware what one present in particular would be. They’d all been briefed on it at the beginning of the week. He spied on Adam from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about getting a pet?” he said, so nonchalantly the words strolled out in a smoking jacket, lighting up.

“Oh yeah. I could get a real snake.” Adam brightened.

Crowley was offended. “Rude. Just saying.”

“It is a bit weird, though. Having an imaginary talking snake. Nobody else does. It’s probably because they’ve all got pets and brothers and sisters and stuff. I could get a snake with a machine gun in its mouth.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Or, a snake that shoots poison out of a machine gun.”

Crowley didn’t bother to point out that some snakes could spit poison without the aid of a machine gun attachment.

“You’ll never get a real snake that talks to you,” he said.

Adam shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You’re not really talking. I’m making up your half of the conversation, aren’t I? I’m really just talking to myself.”

Crowley could say nothing to that.

“Be nice not to have to talk to myself for once,” Adam muttered.

Crowley couldn’t fault him for that. He’d missed a lot of things, the past seventy-eight years. High on the list was someone to talk to. The closest thing he had to a conversation partner was a boy who didn’t even believe he was real. And who was going to bring all life on the planet to an end later that week.

~*~

Wednesday, three days until Armageddon

Crowley skulked around the edge of the lawn, glaring at anyone who looked like they wanted a canape.

The Dowling’s back garden had been taken over by a marquee the size of a small chapel. The sweet, piping voices of children rent the air, while their parents milled, schmoozed and mingled. Many of them gave confused looks to the rows of decapitated stems in the flower beds. Ligur had been busy.

Crowley’s white waiter’s coat was stiff as a straightjacket, which suited him fine. What a bloody awful decade this had been. He was keen to see the back of it. Less keen to see the back of literally everything else.

Shit. He didn’t want the apocalypse. But there was nothing he could do. Even if he’d come up with some feeble plan to nudge the whole thing off-course, he was alone down here. The last time he’d had an ally he could have turned to for aid, Britain was at war with Germany. It would have been a stupid plan, anyway. Never would have worked, whatever it would have been. The only thing that would have made it worthwhile would have been Aziraphale’s company while they worried away the last eleven years. Well, so much for that. It had been a toe-curling span of gradually hunching in on himself to contain his unvoiced scream. Frankly, he might as well try to feel relief that it was finally over. So long, Earth. It’s been real.

He looked up and saw the cherry on the sundae. Hastur and Ligur, each in a grubby version of Crowley’s server outfit, hulked up the lawn towards him.

“Hi guys,” he said as they reached him.

“Get in the marquee. We need eyes on the boy,” Hastur growled. Not so much as a howdy. Whatever.

Crowley nodded. The children were all being entertained in the marquee at present. The pre-adolescent shrieks had all concentrated in there for the past twenty minutes. Crowley was surprised none of his people were in there. For the last three days, the only glimpses he’d got of Adam were through a phalanx of demons flanking him. He secretly missed their bedtime chats.

“No-one else available?” he asked.

Hastur looked nauseated. “The bastards all fled. Nobody could stand to be in there.”

Crowley frowned. “I know children’s parties can be grim, guys, but we all knew what we were signing up for.”

“Nobody signed up to watch a godawful magician,” Ligur spat.

Crowley kept his face carefully blank. His stomach turned cartwheels.

“Really? That awful?”

“Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hastur looked haunted. This was a demon who volunteered for extra guard duty in Dis whenever they needed cheering up.

Crowley’s heartbeat picked up. There were, surely, lots of terrible magicians specialising in children’s birthday parties. Most of them, in fact. He shouldn’t let his imagination run away with him.

Hastur pulled themself[2] together. They leered at Crowley.

“Get in there, then.”

“Enjoy,” Ligur smirked.

They slunk away. Crowley ran a hand through his hair. He squared his shoulders and strutted towards the marquee at a controlled saunter. His steps only wobbled when he got close enough to brush the tent flap with his outstretched hand.

A posh, desperate voice prattled away inside. Crowley’s insides somersaulted.

He slipped into the tent.

A smattering of bored children sat on the floor at the front of the stage. The long-suffering secret service stood at intervals around the edges of the space.

At the front of the room, mugging in a dusty frock-coat and a pencilled-on moustache, was a face that Crowley knew better and more dearly than any on Earth.

He swallowed. Behind his shades, he blinked, hard.

It was Aziraphale.

---

[1] Demons were terrible about locking the door, and all other basic courtesies. It was a matter of unprinciple.

[2] Hastur viewed all human progressive values with bewildered contempt. However, their time in a female corporation had sparked a glimmer of self-knowledge, and they now embraced gender-fluidity. This did not affect their grooming habits in any way.

(Link to next part)