#look man. if u think I’m reading too much into it. sTRAP IN

[mrfartpowered]

I’m so ill about Howard specifically because I have SOO many problems w the way he’s written and even the way he’s animated…but I see the Potential he could’ve had if they didn’t just slap the “funny fat guy” trope all over him and it makes me EVEN ANGRIER

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

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[taglist is closed]

[xohachi]

illuminate

| sherlock holmes x u |

word count: 966

u have a date tonight! ur actually on the date for the first half of the story and sherlock’s brooding about it so badly that he can’t sleep :( BUT u come back sad 😧 so he comforts u ☺️. {angst/comfort/cute ending} {this is for the girls w no dad.}

(LOOK AT HIS PUPPY DOG EYES I WANNA CRYYYYYY) (i hate writing stories in my notes app but I watched American beauty last night and that “you could never be ordinary,” scene literally ate me so i just haddd to write something based off it. so enjoy this blurb i wrote first thing in the morning at a sleepover)

The mundane tick of the clock nearly lulled Sherlock to sleep. He persevered through the heavy bricks on his eyelids, pacing the room thinking of you. The time now was 12:34am. You’d left for a date at around 8, you never went on dates. Sherlock preferred it that way, maybe then he’d get some sleep. He thought of you, the image of you in your little black dress and red heels… the way you styled your hair and left a few dangling curls to frame your already perfect face. The stubborn detective would never say it but it enraged him to see you dressed up like this for another man.

…

“How do I look?” You asked sheepishly. He watched your eyes meet his, inhaling the presence of your soul snaking its way into the void where his was supposed to be. Somehow during the time that the two of you had roomed together at 221B Baker St, Sherlock had fallen in love with you and he hated the fact that he didn’t hate it.

“You’re leaving?” His tone was low, monotonous.

“Yeah silly, I happen to have a date tonight.” You gave him a spin. His eyes locked onto the slit in your already short dress and how it hiked up even higher when you moved. A scowl snuck onto his face as he thought about you dancing with lesser men at sub par bars, the way they’d probably slide a hand down your back, itching for an invitation to taint you with their touch.

…

‘A date,’ He muttered to himself. A cigarette sat between his lips. Sherlock leaned onto the fireplace and pulled his head back as he exhaled. Finally, your footsteps echoed up the stairs. He put out his cigarette and scrambled to find a place in his chair. Quickly picking up his violin, fumbling with the tuning to look busy. You’d left the house wearing heels yet your footsteps showed no indication of heels on your feet. You’d probably taken them off after too much dancing & the thought brought a red jealous haze back into his mind but he decided to let it go. Your dark silhouette emerged from the shadows. Something was wrong. He quickly scanned you with his eyes. Messy hair, your left dress strap sliding down your shoulder, your hand on your right shoulder seemingly massaging a bothering ache, perhaps from carrying your purse. Turning around, a yelp emerged from your throat.

“Sorry,” You choked out, trying to mask your sobs, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You glanced down at the violin in his hands, yet his attention was solely on you. Sherlock’s eyebrow was cocked as he continued to silently read your tells. Shaky voice, running mascara, you’d been crying. Your arms were hugging your body, you’d been hurt. He stood up cautiously.

“He hurt you…” Sherlock concluded aloud, inching closer. His hands were somewhat extended towards you as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

“No, Sherlock he didn’t, I’m alright.” You closed the space between the two of you. The sudden feeling of your small hands on his chest electrified him yet also diminished a fraction of his anger. Physically sure, you seemed to be okay. Sherlock realized that you were hugging your body to console deep emotional pain. Physical or emotional didn’t matter to him though, all that mattered was that you were in pain.

“You’re crying. He made you cry, I’ll murder him.” His rough calloused hands cupped either side of your face, his words venomous with intent. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation but Sherlock had never allowed himself to touch you like this. The most touch you shared was when he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder during long train rides, even then he felt like he was playing with fire.

“He was good to me, I promise,” a small silence, “I did this to myself, with my own insecurities.”

“Am I… ordinary, Sherlock?”

The streetlights trickled through the curtains, illuminating the silhouette of you both holding back from indulging in your deepest desires. The image of you, gazing up at the cold detective with wide teary eyes, clinging to his word like he’s god reciting the bible directly to you. Him, his hands on either sides of your face, soothing you with his words, “You could never be ordinary, not even if you tried.”

Although your crying had ceased, his words broke the dam behind your y/e/c eyes. Your head fell into his chest and the sudden intimacy caused Sherlock tense up. He could feel you needing him, begging him to hold you just this once, to tell you that everything will be okay…and that he loves you so. He opened his mouth to protest the hug, only to be cut off by a small, “Please, just this once,” whispered into his chest.

Frozen in time, the gears in his brain began to short circuit. He was a sociopath, how could he feel like this? The two of you were never even meant to get this close. He could feel his defenses crumble. Every alarm inside his mind palace blaring. Emergency! Emergency! The void where his soul should lie was no longer empty. You’d fought your way past his defenses, seemingly effortlessly. He lived and breathed you. He burned for you, and only you. Your soul igniting him, Sherlock finally allowed himself to wrap his arms around your small figure tightly. His chin resting atop your head. He wouldn’t admit any of this aloud. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t say anything at all. This was enough for now, he’d just be here, with you, for you, in the moment.

[hobivore]

Mission 111: The Timebreaker | JYH

— Jeong Yunho x reader (f)

Prompt: "Hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt—fuck." & "If you're trying to manipulate me us, it's not working." from this prompt list. AU/Trope: science fiction-y angel!au, coworkers to lovers (or partners to partners or whatever the angel equivalent would be) Warnings: Django!Yunho but give him wings, apocalyptic levels of violence and a little bit of blood (nothing too explicit) WC: 2.2k A/N: Surpriiiiiise, your local writer cryptid has risen from the 10th circle of hell called Adult Responsibilities! This short story draws inspiration from Ateez’ delightful space-cowboy concept, biblically accurate angels and a spoonful of Welcome to Night Vale (which I used to obsessively listen to back in 2012). Shout-out to my lovely friend @augustbutwinter for kicking my ass into gear and beta-reading this piece. I love your galaxy brain! © hobivore Do not repost, translate, edit or otherwise use my stories without my permission. ateez masterlist | ask box

“Are you trying to get us all killed?” 

The timebreaker sneezes into his elbow. He’s covered in a fine layer of dust. The chains strapping him to the seat didn’t survive the crash, but he won’t get far either way: his timepiece remains safely hidden in your pocket. 

You ignore him and survey the wreckage in front of you. There’s very little left of your spacecraft. Dawdling will only cost you precious time, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep the flames at bay. 

A few crumpled feathers stick out from under the rubble. You pull with two hands, using your weight to unearth your equally crumpled associate. 

“It’s not like I can actually die, of course. I think. Not really. I’m not afraid of death anyway,” the timebreaker continues. “He looks pretty damn done for, though.”

You turn around and fiddle with what’s left of the control panel. Your partner coughs up thick globs of blood. He wipes his mouth with the back of one wing and straightens his glasses. "Hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt—fuck." 

“Welcome back,” you mutter. The control panel lights up once and fizzles out again. 

“Have you seen my hat?”

“This, here?” The timebreaker lifts one foot and your partner snatches the weathered cowboy hat from under his boot. “Sorry, I thought it was just a piece of debris. I didn’t mean to step on it.”

You snort. “Yunho’s awfully attached to that ugly old thing.” After a repeated bang on the control panel yields no results, you give up and grab your pocket pulsar. “Didn’t they go out of style over 600 billion years ago?”

“Real fashion is timeless,” Yunho says. “Besides, it's a keepsake from Earth.” 

You roll your eyes. “Ugh. You’re such a romantic.”

He winks at you. Behind you, the timebreaker coughs. “I’m still here.”

A glare shuts him up. Your many eyes tend to have that effect on people.

“Which way do we go?” Yunho asks. 

You check your pulsar. “We should head southwest for about 11 kilometres. We’re not that far off. You did a decent job crashing the ship.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you can walk with that leg?” 

“I’m fine, but it might take us a bit longer. Do you still have time?”

You nod. “I do. But the big boss won’t like it. You know his patience runs thin.”

“We’re bringing him a timebreaker! He ought to be happy with that.” 

Your eyes drift towards the man who’s still staring at the wreckage, appearing to be lost in thought—no doubt mourning what might’ve been his only chance at escaping.

“You’re right. Let’s go before the weather gets any worse.”

Above you the glittery storm clouds gather. With just your pocket pulsar left, navigating will be a lot more difficult if you don't cross the Great Plateau before the first rain falls. 

“So… you two are angels, then?” The timebreaker asks when the silence drags on for a bit too long. 

“Damn right,” Yunho says. “Ever met an angel before?”

The timebreaker shakes his head. “Can't say I've had the pleasure, no. They—I mean you, sorry—don’t exist in my universe.”

You grumble. He's awfully polite for a man who killed half a planet of innocents. “Just because you've never seen one doesn't mean we aren't there.” 

The timebreaker’s face turns sour. You don’t care if he doesn’t like you. There's more pressing matters to worry about: right now it's the unshakeable sizzling in your ears, the sound growing stronger with every step.

You rub your temples but the gesture brings no relief. Yunho watches you closely, rummaging through his coat pockets. After some fiddling he extracts a small bottle and hands it to you. He always seems to know exactly what you need. You down the liquid and make a mental note to thank him for that after you’ve finished this job. 

“Why does he have wings and you don’t? And what’s up with all the eyes?”

Your nostrils flare in annoyance and you’re thankful for the sudden crack of thunder that makes your captive jump. “No more time for existential chit-chat,” you say. The taste of ash lingers in your mouth. 

“If you give me my timepiece back I can get us off this planet,” the timebreaker offers. He almost trips over his feet in an attempt to keep up with you and Yunho. “Another universe maybe, just for the two of you? Something beachy? Sun, Martinis, a nice big bed, a few slaves to preen those pretty wings?”

You laugh and look at Yunho’s tattered feathers, still covered in dried blood. "If you're trying to manipulate us, it's not working." 

“Are we still heading in the right direction?” Yunho asks. He looks mildly flattered but not at all phased by the timebreaker’s implications, so you narrow your eyes at him. All he does in return is smile. If you weren't in the middle of a job you'd use his own wings to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“We’re slowly getting there," you sigh, handing him the pulsar.

“We’re heading away from the capital. The only civilised place on this planet.” The timebreaker glances past Yunho’s shoulder and points his cuffed hands at the device. His voice raises an octave when you start walking even faster. “Hey! What did I do wrong anyway? Since when is breaking time a crime? And who are you, the space police?” 

“You didn’t tell him?” Yunho asks. 

You shrug. “The less he knows, the better.” It’s a lie. It doesn’t matter: you just didn’t feel like talking to the man.  

“I’m sorry for my partner’s lack of proper protocol,” Yunho starts, and you close your many eyes for a moment to collect yourself and tune out the other angel’s lecture. The situation is starting to get on your nerves and you wonder if the flames have ignited by now. They probably haven’t—neither of your companions seem to perceive a sudden increase in heat. 

When you open your eyes again, the timebreaker’s face has gone blank.

“And that’s how we ended up here!” Yunho smiles and claps his hands together, as if he didn’t just give a detailed account of why the man will spend the remainder of his life in chains. “Any questions?”

“I—what the fuck,” the timebreaker says, “have more questions now than before.”

Yunho opens his mouth but you cut him off. Unlike the other angel, God didn’t bless you with the patience of a saint when They created you. “No one cares about obnoxious fools who run around universes breaking time. Killing innocents however? The boss doesn’t like that.”

The timebreaker tilts his head towards you. “Who’s this boss you keep talking about? God?”

You laugh. “So you’re a fool and uncultured.”

He looks ready to murder you. You’d like to see him try; it would spice things up a bit. 

Your partner shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “God died a long time ago. No, we call him the Captain.”

At the mention of his name the storm clouds rupture and shimmering glitter falls from the sky. You blink up at the sudden burst of colour. 

Suspicious.

“Dammit,” you curse, “we’re not even close.” You shake the pulsar, which buzzes sadly in the steady stream of luminescent sparkles. You huff and a small puff of smoke escapes your nose.

Yunho squeezes your shoulder. “Do you think you can do it here, if needed?” 

“It’s not ideal, but I can manage. The harvesting will be a pain, though. The soil is too muddy.”

“We can work something out. I trust you.” Yunho’s hand drops to his side and you miss its warmth already. Then he jumps in front of you, causing you to nearly barrel head-first into his chest. He spreads his wings and grins, “This is the skin of a killer, Bella.”

“Shut up.” You push him out of your way, suppressing a smile and trying not to look at the pretty glitter covering him from head to toe. Some of your eyes steal a glance anyway. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He’s still laughing. “For someone who pretends to hate Earth you sure know a lot about it. Who’s the romantic now?”

You don’t respond and push past him, aiming the pulsar at the glittery sky. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind your feigned disapproval and falls back at your side, his comforting presence grounding you like always. As annoying as he can be, you need him there. You’d trust him with your life. 

“I miss humans sometimes. It’s a shame they went extinct.” Yunho turns towards the timebreaker. “She was there, you know. During Armageddon. It was angels versus demons… pretty cool. I wasn’t old enough to join the fight yet. I’ve only heard the stories.” He elbows you in the side. “Tell him about it.” 

You groan. “There was a lot of fire. The end.”

The timebreaker raises an eyebrow. “What happened to the demons?”

“They were wiped out.” 

“That seems to be a recurring theme.” 

You turn your head and grin at him. “You could call it our… speciality.”

For the first time since you’ve dragged him from his universe, the timebreaker looks afraid. A shiver runs through him and his sharp teeth clatter. “I thought angels were supposed to be harbingers of peace. Chubby babies chanting glorias to God and all that stuff.”

“We were tasked to maintain the cosmic harmony of all universal laws,” you shrug, “but no one ever told us how to mete out divine justice.”

“You could say we’re just winging it.” Yunho grins. “Get it?”

The timebreaker doesn’t laugh. The crease between his brows deepens. “So let me get this straight: when you wipe out an entire planet it’s fine, but when I do it—” he huffs, an indignant sound, “—I get thrown in jail?”

You shrug again. “Collateral damage. It happens.”

“Fuck this,” the timebreaker says. Then he starts running. It only takes a few metres for his form to completely disappear in the downpour of glitter.

“Took him long enough.” Yunho takes the pulsar from your hands to save if from melting and sticks it in his pocket. “Are you ready?”

His glasses reflect an orange glow and you laugh. You know he loves this part of the job as much as you do. He can have this. “Go get him, partner.”

The angel spreads his wings and points at you. “I’m taking you out for dinner after,” he says. Then he disappears into the void. 

You draw patterns in the fallen glitter with one smoky foot and start counting. People tend to underestimate your partner by virtue of his angelic aura. They’re always wrong. 

It doesn’t take him long to return. The timebreaker shrieks when he sees you. “What the fuck happened to her?” He trashes in your partner’s arms. “I’ve got a family! Friends! They’ll come looking for me!”

“26 seconds. Not bad,” you comment dryly. 

“They will come!”

“Over there would be perfect.” You point at a spot a few metres away. “Thank you, Yunho.”

Your partner puts the captive down and pats him on the shoulder. He doesn’t run this time. Where would he go, hands bound, without a timepiece and with two angels on his heels? Maybe he wasn’t as foolish as you thought. Some of them keep running. 

“It’s going to be okay,” your partner says. It won’t be. “I’m sure you’ll be dearly missed. I can already picture the memorial service. Lots of flowers, sad piano music... it's going to be beautiful.”

The timebreaker pales. It appears he’s finally caught up on the plan. “What happened to jail? A proper trial?” He blinks twice, then recovers some of his rage and spits at Yunho, “You’ll regret this. My family will hunt you down and kill you both. They'll rip out your feathers one by one until there's none left.”

Yunho pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “‘I’m not afraid of death anyway’, you said.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t worry, death doesn’t have to be temporary. Some of us believe in reincarnation.” Yunho lowers his voice, knowing you can’t hear him over the roaring fire around you. “Not her, of course. She believes in total annihilation.” He gives the man one last gentle pat on the back before stepping away. 

“No one but you has mentioned jail.” You have to raise your voice because of the ringing in your ears. “And your family will find a shipwreck, remember? Such an unfortunate accident.”

“Extremely unfortunate,” Yunho agrees. 

The timebreaker doesn’t answer. His skin has turned the colour of grey mud. You feel the flames rise even higher, inching closer to him.

Finally. 

The last thing the timebreaker sees before the flames engulf him is the sky breaking open. You wrap around him and burn until there’s nothing left but a heap of sand and glitter.

Yunho retrieves an empty hourglass from his pocket and crouches down to fill it with sand. “The Captain’s gonna be happy,” he says while he pours more grains in the glass. "Look at the size of that pile!"

You suppress a yawn and shiver. You always get a little cold after the fire has gone down to a simmer.

“Chinese sound good to you? For old time’s sake?” Yunho hands you the hourglass and wraps a wing around your shoulder. “I know a place.” 

You elbow him in the side and smile. “Romantic.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

[heavenlyraindrops]

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 | 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 {𝙸𝚅}

☆ Warnings: Textfic, profanity, this has lost all seriousness, I don’t even know what’s going on

☆ 1.3k words | AO3, Tumblr

Taika: r u getting read

Taika: ready

Taika: send pic 

You: [one photo attached]

Taika: OO LALA

Taika: anddd it’s all over the screen

Taika: man I didn’t even get a second to edge to that I just bust everywhere…

You sighed, switching your phone off and setting it on the side of the dressing table. It continued to buzz relentlessly as Taika assaulted your chat with what you could only imagine were graphic obscenities; she never could settle for a simple “you look good.”

Applying a quick layer of lip gloss and adjusting the strap of your dress, you took a step back to look at yourself.

Is this too much?

You picked up your phone.

[13 new messages]

All from Taika, of course. You ignored them and began typing.

You: is it too much?

You: [one photo attached]

Taika: ermmmmm no?

Taika: you look secy 

You: yep, secy…

You: it’s just, it’s not a date or something so I don’t think I should put in this much effort

Taika: die

Taika: die

Taika: die

You: what

Taika: die

Taika: go fuck yoruself 

You: WHAT

Taika: act like it’s a date 

Taika: this is your only chance

You: you’re really fucking weird

Taika: r u gonna let him hit

Taika: remember to tap it before you wrap it

You: I’m blocking you

Taika: NOOOO MOMMY NO NOO 

You: jesus save me

A notification appeared on your screen.

Kenji: Hey I’m outside 

You: ok coming 

Tossing your phone inside your handbag, you quickly rushed down the corridor and put on your shoes. You opened the door and went down to the gate. The night air bit at your skin as you tugged on your coat.

“A motorcycle? Really?” You didn’t know what else to say.

He raised a dark eyebrow, jerking his head at the spot on the seat behind him. You clambered on. “What’s wrong with a motorcycle?”

You shrugged. “Dunno.” You froze for a minute, unsure of where to put your hands. 

He let out a low snicker at your evident hesitation. “Shoulders.” You frowned, settling your palms on his shoulders, digging in with your fingers. He barely flinched, instead revving the engine.

“So where are we going?” You had to almost shout over the wind. He didn’t reply, just went faster, making you clutch hard onto him. The city lights whizzed past you both. 

The ride was a blur, your mind mostly preoccupied with- with things that didn’t matter, and once you came to a stop it actually took a second for you to snap out of your daze. 

“Uh… where are we?”

“Tonkatsu Tonki. Uh, come on.” And without warning he simply went inside.

You frowned at yourself. Fuck you, Taika. This isn’t very date-like. But nevertheless you stumbled in after him. 

-

“Hey. Uh, I think you’re meant to dip the noodles-“

“In the sauce, yeah, whatever.”

You stayed silent and folded your hands in your lap, as he proceeded to not dip the noodles in the sauce. He paused, and his eyes flicked to yours. You flinched. 

He straightened up. “So. What we're here to talk about…”

“Yes, uh…” Not very date-like.

He paused again, as if he was thinking about something, then lightly shook his head. “We can talk about it later. Aren’t you gonna eat that?”

You stared at your plate, then picked up your chopsticks wordlessly.

He set this down. “So… how’s work?”

You looked up. “Work? Like…”

“Yeah, like, you know, work.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine I guess.” You twirled a chopstick in your fingers. “How about you?”

“Well, you know. Game next week. Training.” He shrugged awkwardly.

You laughed. It came out scathing to your own ears. “Fun.”

“…Yeah.”

Silence.

“So like, did we go to the same college, or did you just go to all the games to stalk me?”

You almost choked on your food. “What?”

“You know. The pictures.” He seemed so casual talking about it while you were prepared to turn your own skin inside out and crawl into your guts that it made you want to scream. 

“There’s a lot of pictures,” you said stiffly. He snorted, and began laughing, and you stared at him.

“C’mon, [name]. Why’re you so formal?”

“…”

“We’re friends, right? I mean, we know each other. At the very least.”

Friends. A label. You nodded. “Right, you’re uh, you’re right. No, we went to the same college. I was a biology major.”

“Huh? STEM? You’re a photographer now though.”

“Yeah, my parents wanted me to…”

Surprisingly, time flew. It was easy to talk to him. Barriers fell, the awkwardness melted away, and before you knew it he’d dropped you home, walked you to the door, and said goodnight.

Very date-like.

Except you’d both forgotten to address the actual issue at hand at all.

-

Kenji: We forgot to talk about it.

You: yeah…

Kenji: Let’s just talk about it now.

You: we just saw each other thirty minutes ago

Kenji: Yeah whatever so

Kenji: Basically

Kenji: What are we gonna do about it

You: wym? just issue a statement saying it’s not true

Kenji: Yeah or we could make it more fun

You: oh hell no

Kenji: Come on [name] it would be funny

Kenji: Also it would be good for like

Kenji: Publicity 

Kenji: You might get hired more

You: what

Kenji: Look I kind of already told my teammates it was true so we have to roll with this for a while ok

You: WHAT

Kenji: SORRY

You: when I catch you…

You: so how exactly are we going about this.

Kenji: You’re gonna do it? You’ll help me?

You: sigh yes ig 

Kenji: Thanks

Kenji: Thankyou

Kenji: With these words I express my undying gratitude towards thee, in which I shall solidify the notion of with any favours mine body is able to lay at thine feet and mercy

You: ok yappatron 2000

You: how are we gonna go about this

You: what’s in it for me

You: and don’t say exposure I’ll kill you and use your skin as a lampshade

Kenji: Uhhhhh I’ll pay you????

You: are you telling me or asking me?

Kenji: I’ll pay you ma’am

You: …thanks

You: how much

Kenji: idk like $100

You: I am literally lying to the world for you

Kenji: I’ll throw on a few extra zeros at the end

You: thanks pookie bear!

Kenji: I’m regretting this 

You: you’re rich stfu 

You: so now what do I have to do

Kenji: Date at LEAST once a week. Preferably Saturday evening. If we could go somewhere that isn’t too private so people see us. Unless that’s kind of a stupid idea. Idk.

You: no I’m busy I have to go on a date with my bf every Saturday evening 

Kenji: You what

You: I’m joking yaptimus prime

You: doesn’t matter where it is

You: but you’re paying 

Kenji: …okay 💔

You: is that all

Kenji: You just like do stuff on social media and like uhhh attend my games idk

You: I literally work at your games 

You: You silly goose 

Kenji: Mhm

Kenji: Okay look I have to go now. Is everything settled?

You: yeah yeah sure it’s all good

Kenji: Alright cause my daughter just woke up so I have to put her back to sleep

Kenji: Bye

You stared at the screen.

His what?

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 12:  Drunken Silliness

Summary:  After an evening of drinking, you and Arthur both acknowledge your feelings...just not to each other.

Warnings:  Swearing; usual fluffy & slight angst; Approx reading time is 30 min +/-

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*This wonderful image is not mine. This comes from u/Reasonable_Emu2449. Found on reddit! 

You can hear Sean and Karen arguing from where you are sitting under the tree reading your favorite book. You try not to overhear them, but its hard to ignore. Something about one being "immature" and the other being "demanding". You discreetly look up from your pages and watch as they both wave their arms about wildly, hurling insults at each other, more than a few of which cause you to wince in their severity. It doesn't take long before Karen storms off in a huff and muttering to herself, effectively putting an end to the argument, and leaving Sean to stand by there by himself speechless (a rare sight in itself).

As she stalks off, Karen notices you and immediately changes her trajectory to make a bee-line in your direction. "Y/N! I need a drink. You wanna come?" she hollers, jerking her head towards the hitching posts.

"Umm..." you stammer, being put on the spot. 

"Sure you do, come on!" She waves at you to get up before you can even answer her with a 'yes or no'.

"Oh, uh, OK..", you reply quickly and unfold your legs to scamper to your feet and follow her to the horses.

When you get to the posts, you quickly tuck your book that you still have in your hand into your saddlebag and proceed to get Blue ready to leave. Karen angrily yanks on the leather strapping of Old Belle's tack, causing the mare to nicker and sway slightly before she slings herself into the saddle. "You ready?" she asks you impatiently, already turning her horse to the path that leads out of camp, desperate to get out as quickly as possible. "Right behind you," you confirm as you mount up, and Blue is quick to canter on to catch up to Old Belle.

The ride in to town is relatively quick. Fortunately, Karen is sulking too much to rant on the way there and keeps quiet. And smartly, you just let her be. You're about to drown your sorrows in alcohol, so you figure it best to let her pout in peace and not get her stirred up any more than she already is. Thankfully by the time you get into town and over to the saloon, Karen has calmed down for the most part. The two of you hop down from your respective mounts and get them hitched. "Pray for me, Handsome," you whisper to Blue with a grin as you lovingly pat his neck. The silver-colored horse nuzzles you affectionately with a quiet nicker then watches you bounce up the steps behind Karen and through the saloon's swinging doors.

Karen finds you two stools next to each other at the bar and immediately waves the barkeep over. "Two beers and keep 'em comin'!" she tells the man as she sets herself upon one of the smooth wooden seats. You settle in next to her and gratefully accept the cool bottle from the bartender. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, each taking alternating swigs of beer before you start to broach the subject of Mr. Sean McGuire.

"So..." you start tentatively. "Things not going so well with Sean, I take it?" And with that, the floodgates open as Karen proceeds to unload the burden of her frustrations off her chest.

"I love his boyish charm, but I can’t stand his childishness!" Karen finally concludes in a huff after a fifteen minute tirade. "Does that make any sense?" she asks, then sits for a moment in deep thought. "I don't know...He's fun and all. I guess I could do a lot worse," shrugs Karen. "Do you think I settled?" she turns to you, the exasperation pulled back just a bit from her voice now.

"No, I think you gave in," you snicker, giving her an impish grin. "Sean will wear a girl down eventually. I'm just glad he's fixated on you and not me!"

"Oh, there's a reason for that," she says smugly, taking another sip of her beer as she raises a knowing eyebrow at you.

"What do you mean?" you ask her, puzzled.

"I think any man in that camp is going to think twice about approaching you seriously as long as Arthur is around."

You just shrug, oblivious to her meaning. "He is protective," you nod in agreement. "But that's what he does. He looks out for all of the girls in camp." As you say this, Karen halts in her movements, her beer bottle half-raised to her pouty lips, and looks at you like you're crazy. 'Dear God, is she messin' with me, or does she really have no idea?' thinks Karen.

"Well, what about you and Arthur, then?" Karen narrows her eyes at you suspiciously. "Come on, you can tell me. What's goin' on there?", she asks with a curious grin as she bumps your shoulder with her own to try to egg you on in the conversation. You give her a confused look, shaking your head as if you have no idea what she's talking about, as you quickly take a gulp from your own beer bottle to try to avoid answering the question. But Karen is not going to give up on this juicy topic so easily now that it has presented itself. For this is a subject that the girls have been whispering about for awhile now, and Karen just can't resist prying at the open door.

“Ohhhh, no," scolds Karen. "If I have to talk about my dysfunctional relationship with Sean McGuire, then you have to dish about your undefined one with Arthur Morgan," she challenges.

“We’re just friends, that’s all," you say dismissively, rolling your eyes with another shrug.

Karen leans in closer to your face to catch you in the eye. "Do you want it to be more than that, (Y/N)?" You sit there for a moment looking into her beautiful, sweet face, not sure how to answer. You don't want things to get complicated with Arthur, but yet, you can't bring yourself to lie about your continually growing affections for a certain cowboy, either. When you don’t answer, Karen's eyes light up excitedly. “I knew it!” she exclaims, slapping her hand on the bar.

You slowly close your eyes and sigh sadly. "That’s not something he wants, though."

"You two talked about it, then?" she asks you, surprised by your answer.

"No, not directly," you reply sheepishly, looking down at the bottle in your hands. 

Karen clicks her tongue in disappointment. "Honey, I love Arthur and all, but when it comes to romance, he’s a box of rocks." She pauses to take a quick swig of beer before continuing on. "I mean, personally, I don’t get it. He’s kind of awkward and odd-looking if you ask me."

"Oh, I don’t think so," you answer quickly as you look back up at her. "I think he’s handsome and strong. And he’s not awkward, he’s…quiet, observant even. He’s a lot smarter than people give him credit for, too," you gush. You feel like a teenage girl with a dreamy smile upon your lips as you talk about your crush. You didn't realize just how much you wanted to talk about Arthur like this with someone else until now. It feels good to finally vocalize what you've been internalizing for awhile.

"Ooo, you sound like a woman who’s got it bad!" Karen cackles excitedly as she swats your arm.  

But just as quickly as your giddiness began, it drops in disappointment. "Doesn’t matter, though," you say with a slight shake of your head. "Men like Arthur aren’t interested in a woman like me."

Karen's face scrunches up and she looks at you as if you've just uttered the stupidest thing ever. "You mean a man with a penis?", she asks you sarcastically, causing you to choke on your sip of beer, and leading you to quickly cover your mouth to catch the dribble of amber liquid that falls down your chin. "What are you talkin' about?" Karen blurts out. "What the hell is that even supposed to mean, (Y/N)?"

Despite this feeling that has stewed within you for years, way before this moment, you have to sit for a second and try to articulate your thought process on this subject. "Arthur is strong, independent, and rugged. Men like that never show any interest in me. I’m always 'a friend'. I think I’m too outspoken, too inappropriate for most men." You pause for a moment, looking at yourself in the mirror that hangs behind the bar as if confirming it to yourself. "I don’t know my place. Well, I suppose my place is to take care of them, as that seems to be all that I'm ever needed for."

Karen sits quietly and lets you finish speaking, just smirking at you. When you are done, she purses her lips as if deciding just how to answer you. "OK, first of all, I don’t think you know what in the hell you’re talking about. Second, I’ve seen the way that man looks at you, the way he’s always fussing over you. And I’ve never seen him get on with anyone the way he does with you, (Y/N)."

“That’s just it, Karen. I think we are good friends because we both know nothing is going to come of it. There’s no pressure there. We can just...be,” you finish with a slight flourish of your hand to indicate how simple you think the answer is. "And besides, if we ever seem to come close to that point, he always puts a stop to it. That's why I don't think he wants to head down that path with me." You cast your gaze back down to the bottle in your hands again, a sinking feeling in your gut from finally admitting the truth. "But you know what? That's fine," you add after a brief moment. "I'd rather know him and be friends, than try to be together and have it end with him hating or resenting me. Because I just couldn't bear that," as you shake your head at the very thought of it.

Karen is pensive for a brief moment, processing what you've just told her. Her demeanor changes to a much softer tone, now, her anger towards Sean long forgotten. She is full of empathy for your obvious confliction and self-doubt. "Listen," she says as she rests her hand upon your arm. "For what its worth, I don’t think Arthur likes you in spite of those things, (Y/N). I think he likes you because of them. He already had the perfect woman, and look how that turned out. Let me tell you, not so perfect." She leans into you in earnest, trying to get the idea through that stubborn head of yours. You nod in contemplation, mulling over her observation. Could she be right?

And so, you and Karen proceed to drink your worries away. It feels good to confide your inner-most thoughts to someone who isn't Arthur for a change. Especially when some of those thoughts are about him in particular. The two of you laugh and tell stories, the wall of 'prim and proper' coming crashing down as the two of you relax and enjoy the atmosphere. The saloon is getting busier now as the afternoon sun begins its decent for the day. The amber glow of the candles in the wall scones, coupled with the music of the piano-player in the corner, is putting everyone at ease. There seems to be little-to-no tensions with the other patrons, so a bar-fight, thankfully, seems avoidable today. Some of the people have even started to dance with the music, creating a most-jovial setting indeed. And you finally let your guard down and allow a calm to settle over you.

As the comforts of alcohol take hold, the two of you eventually start to talk about men and swap your stories. "I had a guy once, all he would do is twist 'em," Karen points casually at her own breasts, "like he was trying to crack a safe open!" She rolls her beautiful doll-eyes and shakes her head. You laughed at the reference, nodding in understanding. "I know! What is with the obsession?!" you exclaim. "And they're always complaining that they need a 'big chest' on a woman! Really, all they need is at least a handful, a definite mouthful. Anything after that, they don’t even know what they're doing with it," and you take another swig of your beer to accent your point. Karen cracks up, slapping her hand on her knee, as she knows exactly what you're talking about, as she is pretty well endowed in that area herself.

But eventually, Karen's antics calm down a bit as if she is distracted by a new thought in her beautiful blonde head. "OK, so you’re not attached to Arthur, then, right?" asks Karen with a sly grin.

"Correct," you nod to her in confirmation, taking yet another sip of beer.

"Good! 'cause there is a fine looking gentleman at the other end of the bar who’s been looking you over for some time now.” She casts her gaze over your shoulder with a slight nod to indicate someone behind you. You turn your head to follow her gaze to see a handsome young man leaning on the bar, smiling back at you. Shocked, you immediately turn back around, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. Within a few moments, you watch out of the corner of your eye as the man downs the shot-glass in his hand, and pushes himself up from the bar. He discreetly tugs on the bottom of his vest to straighten himself out and runs a quick hand over his dark hair in an effort to make himself presentable. Then, he begins to walk towards you and Karen.

"Good Evening, Ladies," the stranger says with a kind tone to his voice, which makes Karen giggle with excitement, nibbling her lip in anticipation. "Evenin'", she replies, her eyes dipping demurely.

"My name is Sam. Sam Edwards. What’s yours?" he inquires politely. You can feel the blush starting to dust across your cheeks as his handsome smile dances from you, to Karen, and then back to you.

"My name is Karen, and this here is (Y/N)," offers Karen, when you are self-consciously hushed into silence. Typically, you have no issue speaking your mind freely, even in the presence of men. But on the off-chance that you catch a man's eye, it always leaves you awkward and shy. Sam is fairly tall, with dark, thick wavy hair that is combed back nicely. He's clean-shaven and wearing nicer clothing, nothing dirty or ripped. His boots are clean of mud and dust, indicating that he must not be 'of the elements' like the company that you currently keep. But he seems kind, his dark eyes shining as he smiles at you. In other circumstances, you'd be most excited at being approached by such a man as this.

"Can I offer you ladies a drink?" he asks.

"Um, no thank you, we have drinks," you reply politely, rolling your wrist and fingers towards the bottles on the bar in front of you.

"Hmm, yes, of course," he nods in acknowledgement, but not willing to give up just yet. "Would you mind a dance, then?" he smiles at you, holding out his hand. You blink back the astonishment in your mind as you stare down at his hand, then back to his face, not sure how to answer. When you sit there immobile, your mouth slightly open to find an answer, yet paralyzed with conflict, Karen gently nudges your shoulder with her slender fingers as a go-head, pushing you towards Sam and encouraging you to accept his offer. She knows damn well that you are hesitant because of Arthur. But if he's going to be stupid enough to drag his feet in moving forward with you, then Karen is not going to let this opportunity of a potential suitor slip away from you.

Your cheeks flush red as you lay your hand into Sam's, causing the handsome grin on his face to pull into a full-fledged smile of excitement. You hop down from the barstool and follow him as he leads you to the open area where a few others have already gathered to dance. Being respectful, Sam places his hand high on your back as he gently clasps your hand in his other one. However, he can't help but to pull you a little closer than usual to him.

"So, are you from here in town?" Sam asks you, awkwardly trying to make small-talk.  

"Not exactly," you chuckle as you both start to sway with the music.

"You and your friend having a good time tonight?" he continues, trying to crack that exterior of yours.

"Sure." You don't mean to be rude with your short answers, but you are not sure if you are comfortable with this. Sam proceeds with a string of compliments, commenting on your dress, your hair, etc. Its been a long time since someone flirted with you in genuine interest. Sure, there's always Sean's teasing, Micah's harassment, and the occasional mixed-signal instances with Arthur. But no one has been pursuant and shown you attention like this in a long time. And honestly, it feels pretty damn good to you. You eventually loosen up a bit and relax, as the two of you continue to dance as one song stops and the next one continues. You begin to let your guard down and allow yourself to laugh and smile; to be courted properly as a good woman should be.

"What’s your situation, if you don’t mind my asking?" Sam eventually asks, his eyes locking with yours with genuine interest.

"I don’t really have 'a situation'," you admit sheepishly.

Sam cocks his head at you in disbelief. "Now, how’s that possible with a pretty girl like you?" he counters skeptically.

You roll your eyes at his latest compliment with a slightly embarrassed grin. "It’s complicated," you finally admit, shaking your head at the nonsense of it all.

When the music stops again, it leads you to begin to take notice of what is happening between you and Sam, and you feel as if this is starting to take a turn that you are not so sure that you want it to. You suddenly pull away from Sam's grasp, blinking the blissful fog from your mind. "I should go," you mutter softly. For whatever reason, you have a sudden wave of guilt wash over you. You're not sure if its because of Arthur, the gang, everyone...no one?

“Can I see you again?” Sam asks hopefully, holding your hand in both of his, a slight desperation in trying to keep you from running from him.

You look down at his elegantly strong hands encasing your own and hesitate, torn as you are not sure how to answer him. What are you supposed to tell him? That you live with a bunch of wanted outlaws out in the woods? "I don’t think that’s a good idea," you say quietly at a volume barely above a whisper, with a slight pang of regret in your voice as you avoid eye-contact, fearing that if you look Sam in the eye, it will be your undoing.

"Why not?" he gently pushes, stepping a bit closer to you, confusion setting upon his face. He is not about to let you walk away so easily.

"Trust me, it just isn’t," you reply a bit more firmly this time, trying to convince yourself that you are doing the right thing for everyone involved. For this is also for Sam's safety as well. What if someone in the gang gets wind of this and sees Sam as a threat? And you can't help but chuckle internally at the irony of that thought:  Arthur wants to keep you at a distance from himself to keep you safe, and yet here you are doing the same for Sam.

Sam steps even closer to you now, staring down into your eyes in that oh-so dreamy and romantic way. You can almost feel the heat from his body, he's that close. He holds your gaze and you notice his chest rising and falling with his slightly-broken breathing in anticipation. Your eyes cast down to his lips, tempted to think what it would feel like to kiss him. He must sense your indecision and leans in slightly, as if to kiss you first and end your internal struggle. But suddenly you snap out of your reverie and pull back with a slight surprise. "I can't," you murmur again, so faint, Sam almost missed it.

"Please don't go," Sam begs in a hushed tone. You gently lift your hand and rest it on his chest, your fingers splay open and float across the fabric of his shirt and brocade vest, a last attempt to validate that Sam is real and standing right in front of you; to allow yourself to believe that he is willing to fight for you. Unlike someone else. But, you are not ready to deal with this sort of thing and the drama that it could bring. This just isn't fair. Why couldn't this man approach you when you are not living in hiding with a bunch of criminals? Or, why couldn't Arthur and you finally acknowledge what you know is burning there and just be together? Either way, you aren't getting what you want and it fills you with both annoyance and sadness.

"No, I...I really need to go. Thank you for the dancing. It was nice to meet you, Sam." And with that, you offer him an apologetic smile and step backwards to put space between you before turning around to look for Karen. Your chest is tight and you feel like you can hardly breathe. The room starts to spin and you suddenly feel the need to get the hell out of this saloon and now. Fortunately, Karen is still sitting at the bar where you left her, but she has since found some company. A rather cute blonde is leaning over her and openly flirting, causing her to blush and giggle. You quickly walk over to where she is sitting, and toss a few coins on the bar, grabbing the bottle that the barkeep conveniently has sitting there. "Come on, Karen, we need to leave," you inform her, and pull her off the stool by the arm, causing a quick yelp to escape her lips. You quickly drag her across the saloon floor and out the door before she can even put up any argument.

----------------------------------------

It is Arthur's turn for guard duty tonight. He stands quietly, smoking his cigarette, peering into the still night. He keeps his eyes open for any disturbance, but mainly, he's keeping an eye out for you and Karen. You've been gone for several hours now, but he's trying not to get too anxious about it. You are with Karen, and she can certainly handle herself. But then again, you are with Karen. So there's no telling what you'll get into when you're with her.

The evening is crisp, but not so cold. Autumn has not set in fully just yet, so there is still the rustling of the birds and squirrels in the trees as they prepare for the coming winter. He curls his thick fingers around the cigarette in his hand as he lifts it to his lips for another long drag, casting his watchful eyes from the hitching posts where the horse quietly graze to the path where he hopes to see you and Karen soon. Suddenly, his keen ears pick up on a noise off in the distance. He squints his eyes, trying to see in the dark as he tilts his head in an effort to discern where the noise is coming from. He hears it again and it is the unmistakable sound of Karen's cackle and your voice carrying through the still night air. Eventually you both come into view, riding up into camp. A wave of relief settles over Arthur to know that you two are both back safe. But that quickly turns to confusion, as well as amusement, as he can see that you are both clearly very drunk. Its not a bad thing to see you both so merry and carefree. But you are also both very loud and rowdy, singing and laughing and carrying on. So much for being discreet and hiding in the woods, he muses.

"What in God's name have you two been up to?" chuckles Arthur with a shake of his head as you and Karen get closer to the camp. The two of you have been too caught up in your own antics to notice Arthur until now, but once you set eyes upon the man, you both exchange a look between the two of you and instantly burst into a laughing fit. You had finished that bottle you brought from the saloon and have proceeded to get even more drunk on the ride back to camp. And of course, there has been much discussion about Arthur along the way.

Sighing, Arthur meets you along the path to escort you in. "Alright, then. Let's get you two in, safe and sound. Well, maybe not so much on the ‘sound’ part." He walks over and takes ahold of the reins of both of your horses to safely lead the animals over to the posts. Once she's at a complete stop, Karen is quick to bounce down from Old Belle, patting the horse's graceful neck in thanks. On the other side, Arthur is quick to walk around Blue to help you down from the saddle when he notices you almost fall, and you trip ungracefully right into his chest with an "oof!" "Woa! Easy, now," he laughs as he uses his arms to catch you and hold you up. "I got ya." "Thanks, Arthur, you’re a peach!” you drunkenly quip looking up into his face with a lop-sided grin. You quickly reach up and tap Arthur's nose with your fingertip, making a “boop” noise before taking his hat off his head to place it on your own and walk around him to link arms with Karen and saunter off towards the fire to join the others. Arthur stands frozen for a moment, watching as you and Karen drunkenly bump into each other with a ripple of laughter, astonished by your behavior before he cautiously follows suit.  

The evening carries on, and everyone is in good spirits tonight. There is laughter and singing in the air and everyone is actually getting along for once. Eventually, Bill stands to get another bottle from the supply wagon and announces to everyone that he has just grabbed the last bottle of rum.

"I'll arm-wrestle you for it, Bill!" you say cheekily, pointing at him smartly. A wave of laughter ripples throughout the group. Bill is even bigger than Arthur, and that's saying alot. You are dwarfed in comparison to the goliath, so your challenge to him is certainly a joke. Bill eyes you with a grin, before he simply waves you off like you're crazy. "You're as mad as you are drunk, woman!" he says shaking his head at you. "I'm serious!" you challenge back with a slight hiccup. "Come on!" you exclaim as you stand up and walk past him and over to the the nearest table. You sit down and prop your arm up for the ready, smacking the opposite side of the tabletop with your other hand to indicate his vacant spot, a big smile on your face. "Come on, Bill!" you holler over to him. You wave him over to you, and with a grin of his own, Bill finally complies. He settles himself down across the table from you, still eyeing you cautiously, and waiting for you to come to your senses and back out of this dare. But he eventually lifts his massive arm up onto the table, bending his elbow up. Bill lightly grasps your awaiting, and much smaller, hand in his, rolling his fingers around yours for a moment before he tightens down, readying himself. He locks eyes with you in a stare, eyebrow raised and ready.

"OK, then, when you're ready, I'll start the count," you say, a little too peppy for his liking.

"Hold on," halts Bill suddenly. "I ain’t fallin' for that again," he says, thinking back to when he dislocated his shoulder and you caught him off-guard with your counting and popped the ligament back into place before he was expecting it. "Someone else get over here and do the countin’!" he shouts as he waves over to the group. Javier is quick to his feet and strides over to the table. "Alright, friend, I got you. Think you can take her, big man?" he jokes as he gets closer. Bill just gives Javier a scowl in response before he returns his gaze back to you. You and Bill sit with your hands wrapped together, and you begin flexing your fingers to find the comfortable position again before they gracefully drape across his large and calloused knuckles. Bill blushes slightly at the feeling of your soft hand tightening around his own burly one, relishing the feeling of it, but quickly regains his composure to set himself to the task at hand.  

Javier places his hand atop of your two together. "You ready?" he asks, checking you both.

"Yep!" you reply with absolutely no reservation or concern in your voice what-so-ever. The rest of the gang looks on, curious to see what is going on in that head of yours. Bill nods to Javier and then meets your eyes again, bracing himself for your little competition.  

"OK, then," says Javier and then he begins to count. "One...two..."

And just as the syllable of "two" drops from Javier's mouth, you launch yourself across the table and kiss Bill full-on on the lips. Bill freezes, his eyes going wide, his eyebrows shooting up to his increasingly receding hairline. You can hear an audible gasp from the collective crowd, as well as Karen's unmistakable high-pitched drunken laugh of approval. When you pull back from his face, Bill looks at you in utter shock and is dumbfounded as to what just happened.

"Three!" Javier announces excitedly, lifting his arm above his head in emphasis. And before Bill can pull his mind together, you pull his giant arm down effortlessly, pinning his large hand to the table.

"Ha! I win!," you exclaim, smacking your hands on the table in triumph before you stand victorious, snatching the bottle of rum from him and taking a big swig from the bottle.

"What?! NO! Damn it!!" yells Bill, completely flabbergasted. The rest of the gang erupts in laughter and cheers as they all raise their own bottles and cups to salute you, including Arthur. After a few moments, Bill stands with a grin of his own, knowing he's been bested. (Truth be told, he's always had a soft spot for you.) He ambles over to stand next to you and puts his massive arm around your shoulders. “Laugh all you want, Jackasses," he says waving at the lot of them. "But the fact is, (Y/N) kissed me and none of you! I’d say that’s worth a bottle of booze," he says pridefully. You turn to him with a warm-hearted smile and pull his face down closer to kiss his cheek to show that there are no hard feelings, and hand him the bottle to share.

The festivities of the group continues well-on into the night, filled with laughter and fun. You all sit around the main fire, singing and sharing stories. You are still sitting next to Karen and Tilly, relaxed and carefree. Arthur sits across the fire from you and watches you with great interest. It fills him with such satisfaction to see you settled and free of the worries and stresses of your life, even if it is only for an evening. He reflects upon how much you've assimilated into this group of misfits, his family, accepting and loving everyone within it. You seem perfectly at ease and comfortable to exist within the harsh life that he himself lives. Where others have cast judgement, you have offered compassion. Arthur's chest tightens and his heart swells at the mere sight of you. And his face twists up slightly in concern, as he now realizes that he can't keep his feelings for you at bay forever.  

At one point during the evening, Hosea comes over to sit down next to you in the spot recently vacated by Tilly. “I like seeing you like this, (Y/N)” he says, a slight grunt of exertion crossing his lips as he lowers himself down onto the chair.

“What, drunk?” you questioningly laugh as you offer him a lop-sided grin.

“No, relaxed. Happy. You’ve been through a lot, my dear girl. You work hard. You do your part. Its good to see that you are 'one of us' now." The old man gives you a smile of approval and pats your hand affectionately. You warmly smile back at Hosea, appreciating his fatherly acceptance. Since you've lost your own father, you have a gap in your heart for such a role. You are truly very fond of Hosea and you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. "Thank you, Hosea," you whisper in his ear.

By the end of the night, the fire has died down and the chill of the evening air has indicated that it is finally time for everyone to retire to their beds. Hosea looks over at you, noticing that you are rather wobbly now, between the booze and the fatigue. He lets out a contented sigh before looking over to Arthur. "Arthur, why don’t you get (Y/N) to bed.” And the man waves his hand at Arthur to usher him over to you.

This statement causes you to sloppily giggle into your hands. “You hear that, Karen? Arthur has to get me into bed!” And both you and Karen erupt into yet another fit of laughter over your inside joke between the two of you, seeing as she now knows how you really feel about the man.

Arthur tries to hide the red in his cheeks with the brim of his hat as he sighs dryly at the embarrassing joke. "Are you done now?” he asks, walking over and standing over you with a bit of a scowl, not too amused. At this point, Arthur is tired and just wants to get some sleep.  

You instantly try to stifle your laughter, not wanting to irritate him any further, but a few huffs of snickering escape your lips before you can finally contain yourself again. “Fine, I’ll be good”, you say as you put your hands up in surrender. Arthur sighs in impatience again and gently takes your arm to help you to your feet. "C'mon, let's go. I think you've had enough fun for one night," his deep voice trying to sound authoritative in case you try any other antics that may embarrass him in front of everyone else.

Hosea and the others watch in amusement as Arthur gingerly wraps his arm around your waist for support as you lean heavily into his ribs, and he leads you away from the fire and towards the tents. Your images disappear into the darkness as the firelight leaves your forms, but everyone can still hear you as you continue to trip over your own feet like a newborn baby horse learning to walk, continuing to crack yourself up, and almost pulling Arthur down with you with each drunken step. Hosea shakes his head with a grin as all they can hear carrying through the still night is your laughter and Arthur shouting “Damn it!” in annoyance every two seconds. "That girl is going to be his undoing, yet," he whispers with approval in his voice to Ms. Grimshaw, who only nods in agreement.  

As you reach your tent, Arthur pulls back the flap opening with one hand as he has his other arm still securely around your waist to make sure that you don't fall over. He gets you inside the canvas and sets you down on your newly-acquired cot, looking you over briefly to assess the situation, before he kneels down at your feet to help you get your boots off. You sit quietly and obediently as you watch him slowly pry apart the laces of your boots with his large fingers. He is so careful and gentle as he handles you. You try your best to reel in your drunken behavior and smile down at him.

"Thank you, Arthur," you say softly.

"No need for thanks," he offers gruffly, keeping his eyes on his fingers and the work at hand.

"No, I mean...thank you, Arthur. For everything. Not just for taking care of me tonight, but for looking out for me all this time." He lifts his eyes and briefly looks at you before awkwardly turning his eyes back down, unable to hold your intense gaze upon him. "Weren't nothin'" he mumbles, still fussing with your laces.

"You saved my life, Arthur," you gently push the subject, "and have been looking after me ever since. I just want you to know how much I appreciate that." Arthur says nothing in return, but simply hums in acknowledgement with an ever-so-slight nod at the compliment. Now that you are in the quiet of your tent, away from the commotion of the crowd from earlier, you think back to the saloon and to Sam and your interaction together from this afternoon. You briefly wonder whether you've made the right decision to walk away from the proper gentleman who would have loved your company. But as you continue to watch Arthur kneeling in front of you at your feet, gently slipping off your boots, you know for sure. You smile to yourself and in a sudden burst of bravery, you lean over to kiss Arthur's cheek. Your delicate lips linger on his stubbled face for just a split second longer than needed, a clear indication of the tenderness that is intended. You hesitate for a brief moment after you deliver the precious gift, your face hovering next to his, before you slowly sit back up again. This causes Arthur to immediately halt in his task, as he begins to blush and get flustered. His eyes dart everywhere but to your face as he rapidly blinks in surprise.

“You’re sweet, Arthur”, you say to him, your voice a soft melody floating in his ears.

Arthur finally looks up at you again, rubbing his hand along his jawline nervously. “I’ve been called alot of things in my life, but 'sweet' ain't one of 'em,” he admits to you, a boyish grin pulling along his lips.

"Maybe you’re not hanging around the right people, then," you smile at him.

He chuckles a bit. "Huh...maybe you’re right." You continue to look down at him, still kneeling at your feet, and the two of you lock eyes together for a moment. You jut your head down towards him slightly, inviting and waiting for him to kiss you. 'This is it!' you think to yourself excitedly. 'Its finally going to happen!' Arthur slowly reaches up and moves a lock of hair behind your ear so that he can see your face clearly. But trying to be a gentleman when it comes to a woman, Arthur suddenly clears his throat and pulls back. He has fantasized about this moment so, so many times. However, he doesn't want your first kiss together to be when you're drunk, not wanting to take advantage of you in your current state. It would be one thing if you were both drunk. In fact, to be honest, that may be the only way he would finally get the nerve to act upon what he has dreamed of for so long. So rather than reciprocating your affection, he awkwardly pats you on the leg instead.

He clears his throat again, trying to dislodge the tight knot there and find his voice to answer the expectant expression that sits upon your face. "Get some sleep, would ya? I’ll see you in the mornin'," he replies quietly with a brief and awkward smile. And with that, Arthur stands up, gives you a slight nod, and quickly ducks out of your tent, leaving you sitting there alone, wide-eyed and mouth slightly gaped in disappointment.

In the stillness of the night, all you can hear is the far-off sounds of the critters still out and about nocturnally. You sit on your cot, motionless and in shock for a moment over what just happened. And honestly, you are more than a little dejected. "What the hell do I have to do to get this man to make a move?", you whisper exasperatedly to yourself as you raise your hand towards the tent opening where Arthur was just standing and let it drop into your lap haphazardly in frustration. Every damn time that you think something will happen between you and Arthur, he will always pull away from you. The beautiful flirtations that cause warmth to spread in your heart always end in disappointment. You treasure the sweet interactions between the two of you, but you don't know how much more you can take without it moving any further. It can't be coincidence, can it? He has to feel something for you as well, right? You continue to sit there in disbelief, even in your drunken state. You lift your eyes to the ceiling of your tent, as tears of frustration start to well up in them before a single tear makes it over the brim and cascades its way down over your cheek.

------------------------------

The next morning, Arthur peels open his blue eyes at the sound of the birds in the trees. The morning sun creeps its way in through the slight gaps of the tent flaps and dances along the walls of the canvas as the morning breeze shakes the fabric. Its quiet in the camp this morning after last night's festivities, so he allows himself to take his time and slowly rise for the day. He sits up on the edge of his cot, running his hand through his messy hair with a yawn as he slowly comes to full consciousness. A smile slowly spreads itself across his bearded face as he remembers the events of the preceding night. He is feeling pretty good about that kiss you planted on his cheek last night and how you had called him 'sweet'. He replays the conversation over in his mind and thinks on how you looked at him. Over the time you have been here, you have become the camp sweetheart and yet, you were smiling sweetly at him last night. Him! Arthur has been mulling over his doubts over whether your flirtations are just that, or if there there could truly be something more behind it. But last night may have been that definitive proof that he needs. Or at least, maybe enough for him to finally act on it to find out?

With his hands on his thighs, Arthur pushes himself up with a slight groan to a standing position and stretches his long arms towards the ceiling of the tent before digging around in his trunk to find some clean clothes to put on. He checks himself in the small mirror hanging off of the side of his wagon, running his fingers through his tousled hair again before he pulls back the sides of his tent. He heads over to the wash barrel to toss some fresh water on his face, a bit of a bounce in his step as he walks. As he stands at the barrel, Arthur hears voices and realizes that he can overhear you and the other girls talking from where you all sit on the other side of one of the supply wagons. He can't make out what you are all saying at first, but curiosity gets the better of him. Cautiously, he sneaks a little closer to the wagon so that he can hear you all better.

"Well, well, (Y/N)! I'm surprised you're up already! How you feelin'?" asks Abigail as she watches you slowly lumber towards her and the other girls with a cup of steaming coffee in your hands.

"Not as bad as I thought I would," you admit as you carefully lower yourself to the ground to sit and rub your hand over your face. "I made sure I drank some water before I turned in for the night. Of course, getting up in the middle of the night to get sick helped, too." Your face turns sour at the memory of it.

"Well, that's what happen's when you go out drinking all day," laughs Mary-Beth. "You and Karen got a head-start on the rest of us. Serves you right!"

"Oh, I think it was well worth the trouble," smirks Karen in that smug, knowing tone as she gives you a look before sipping her own cup of coffee. This comment makes Arthur pause as he secretly listens from the other side of the wagon. What's this now? Could you have told them about what happened between the two of you in your tent? He leans in to side of the wagon a bit more intently to see if he can hear better.

"Oh, you should have seen the man that was making eyes at (Y/N) in the saloon yesterday!" exclaims Karen excitedly, eager to tell the juicy story.

“Ugh, Karen!” You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you shift your weight on the ground. The other girls gasp in shock, as you are not known to openly flirt with anyone. Anyone, except Arthur, that is. And the girls begin to giggle and eagerly ask their questions. "You're kidding!" says Mary-Beth.

"Oh, he was handsome and very interested," Karen gushes. "What was his name, (Y/N)? Steven?"

"Sam", you reply quietly, bringing your coffee cup up to your face in an effort to hide behind it.

"They danced and laughed…" giggles Karen. "That man didn't want to let her go, I tell you!"

From where he's standing, Arthur cringes and he shifts his weight uncomfortably from hip to hip as he overhears this conversation. This bit of information makes Arthur a bit jealous and self conscious. 'Of course...that’s why she was acting all sweet last night,' he thinks to himself, staring down at the ground. 'She was all hot and bothered over that other fella.' His chest begins to tighten and his head starts to pound. Arthur quickly turns and walks away from the wagon, not able to stomach anymore. All of the excitement and hope he had when he awoke this morning has evaporated within moments. 'Damn fool. You waited too long,' he admonishes himself internally. "Just as well, she probably wouldn't want you anyway, you ugly bastard," he mutters out loud to himself as he heads back across the yard and over to the tables.  

But unfortunately, Arthur has walked away too soon. If he would have had the strength to hold out, he would have caught the most important and amazing words he could have heard in a very long time. Arthur walks away before he can overhear you and the other girls talk about your crush on him.

"Are you gonna see him again, (Y/N)?" asks Mary-Beth hopefully, leaning forward in anticipation.

“No”, you say quietly, but definitively, with a shake your head.

"Why not?" she asks, confused as to why you'd turn your back on a handsome gentleman caller.  

"Yeah, (Y/N), why not?" jokes Karen nudging your arm with that same glimmer in her eyes. You just shake your head again, not wanting to talk about it in front of everyone else.

"(Y/N) doesn’t want that man because she wants Arthur!" Karen announces to the other girls.

You groan slightly as you roll your eyes closed and hide your face in your hands in embarrassment. The girls are wound-up with excitement and start hooting and laughing. "Oh, don't go on all embarrassed, now, (Y/N)" teases Abigail swatting at your arm. "This ain't nothin' that we haven't already guessed at."

"You need to tell him!" says Tilly, eyes all alight and wide. "You simply must talk to Arthur right away! You know he ain’t gonna make a move, so you’re gonna need to. Why wait?!" Tilly is not usually the love-sick fool that Mary-Beth is, but she sees Arthur as an older brother. She was brought into the gang at a young age like he was, and she has grown up with him. And Arthur has always had a soft spot for Tilly and watched over her. So to have her "brother" possibly find love again after all this time has Tilly giddy with excitement.

Back over at the tables, Arthur can hear the lot of you laughing from across the yard. He can't hear the specific details of what you are all saying, but it’s OK. He already knows what your’re all talking about, knows that you are all gushing about some handsome new prospect; someone who is no doubt better than him, and someone who could very well be the one to eventually call you his. Arthur's face contorts in annoyance as he slams the coffee pot down on the table. He sips the steaming liquid out of the cup, ignoring how it scalds his tongue, and shakes his head as his eyes squint up in a slow-burning anger at himself.

Hosea is now up and about as well, and approaches the table where Arthur is to get himself some hot water for his morning tea. As he fusses with his cup, pouring the water over the herbs, he notices Arthur's foul mood out of the corner of his eye. 'Jesus, its too early for this shit,' Hosea thinks to himself. He stands there and studies Arthur for a moment, his all-knowing eyes narrowing a bit in observation. He knows the younger man better than anyone and, more importantly, Hosea isn't afraid to call Arthur out on his bullshit, either. "What's the matter with you?" asks Hosea.

"Nothin'" replies Arthur curtly, avoiding eye contact. His gaze is aimed in your direction.

The older man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief moment in exasperation. "Are you seriously mad about last night?," asks Hosea, meaning how you had carried on drunk and joking at Arthur's expense.  

"No. I don’t care about any of that," Arthur waves dismissively with a pout.

"Then what’s your problem?" pushes the old man.

Eventually, with a heavy sigh, Arthur relents a bit at the sound of his 'father's' voice. "It’s just…", he hesitates before continuing, the weight of his confusion over his feelings finally coming to a hilt, overwhelming him and, at last, spilling over. "Why can’t I ever get what I want?" he answers, waiving his arm in the air in frustration before letting it drop with a slap against his side.

"What the hell are you talkin' 'bout?" asks Hosea, confused.

Arthur looks at Hosea for a moment, then turns his head to look over at your tent to where you have since wandered back and have started shaking out your clothing for washing for the day, and then back to Hosea with a slight tilt of his head, an unspoken signal.

"Oh..." says Hosea, as it clicks together what Arthur is rambling about. Then the old man chuckles, happy to see Arthur finally admit to what Hosea has already known for awhile now. "Well, did you tell her how you feel about her?" presses Hosea, arching his eyebrows to accent his point.

"Oh sure…'course!" says Arthur. "Just not to her face…or out loud," Arthur says with biting sarcasm and giving Hosea a glare as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

"Sweet Jesus," says Hosea, pinching his nose again. "Do you want me to talk to her for you?" Hosea asks, fully annoyed at this point now.  

"What?! No! God, no!" exclaims Arthur quickly, his body fidgeting nervously.

"Good! 'Cause you’re a little old for me to be talking to girls for you," Hosea scolds him, sipping his now-steeped tea.  

Arthur hangs his head, avoiding Hosea's disappointed eyes. "I’ll do it…in my own time," he says quietly, looking down at his boots as he kicks absentmindedly at the grass with his toe. The thumb of his hand involuntarily hooks into his gunbelt as the fingers of his other hand adjust to hold his coffee mug tighter.

Seeing his son so dejected, Hosea softens, a look of sympathy replacing the annoyance that was just previously spread there. He steps closer to the younger man, lifting his hand to Arthur's shoulder. "You need to do something about it soon, son. Because if you don’t, there’s surely others who will," Hosea warns in earnest, yet soft-spoken and serene. "And with a girl like that," as he motions towards your tent with his tea cup in-hand, "it won’t take long to happen."

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Hosea's, a shadow of pain held behind those blue orbs. "That's just it, Hosea. I think it already has," says Arthur in disappointment.

[moonrisecoeur]

i have been. debating sending this bc i know i am cringe. op i am so sorry feel free to ignore and delete bc this is just actual pure filth lmfaooo

op i literally think about pegging leon 24/7 its a full time JOB inside my brain i need to peg that man so fucking Bad its not even funny. i know hes so fucking Noisy. i wanna make him beg for my strap, i wanna fucking edge him until hes begging and crying to be fucking ruined. i wanna pretty him up, put eyeliner on him so i can make it run down his face from fucking him so hard. i wanna mark up his neck and pull his hair while i pulverize him. i wanna tell him hes taking it so well and how hes such a good boy, how pretty he looks bent over for me while i fuck his cute ass. i want him to hug me while i praise him bc hes so overwhelmed. tell him how hot it is hearing him moan and whine, encourage him to make as much noise as he wants, itd be cute to watch him try to not pillow bite because hes trying sooo hard to do what you want like a good boy. i want him to be borderline Incomprehensible, voice shaking and cracking as he tells me how much he loves me, how much he loves the way i make him feel. i wanna make him cum untouched. i wanna overstimulate him. i wanna grope his fat tits and milk his dick. i wanna make him watch himself getting fucked. put him in a collar, lingerie, fuck anything-hed be gorgeous no matter what he wears. shower him in kisses and affection and make him feel the most loved he has in his entire LIFE while short circuiting his brain n marking him with bites and bruises for everyone to see.

re2 leon is my fave man he has my heart and god id love to just take care of him. after a long shift i wanna slam him against the door and fuck him while hes still in uniform. make him feel so good. such a whiny cutie. cuff him up and bite his freckles while i fuck him late into the night, clean him up and cuddle him after, make him breakfast in the morning n give him kisses.

re4/re6/older leon is a subby bitch too. just as god damn fine and id do oh so horrific things to him. hed love it so much, not having to think, make decisions, take charge. just let me whatever i want to him. hed get off so hard being under you and told how fucking good, pretty, perfect he is. he needs your approval so fucking bad-its all that poor man wants, god he needs it so BAD. he needs to feel safe and loved and wanted, like this is Critical. id make SURE i fuck him so good he cant even think about his insecurities or problems. and dear fucking lord do not get me started on that slutty waist and button down of his in re6. he's keeping the gloves on while i press his hands into the mattress and bite his arms.

its so fucking funny bc i hc leon as a switch BUT GODDDDD SUBBY LEON MAKES ME FUCKING FOAM AT THE MOUTH LIKE A RABID, FERAL ANIMAL

its not a want it is a NEED

I NEED THIS MAN UNDER ME I NEED TO REARRANGE HIS GUTS !!!!!!!!!!!!

guhhh last anon again but now i really cant stop thinkin about sub leon. legit i have so much more to say i just love him so much. theres so much. More. i wanna say but lord. im trying so hard to be normal man 😭😭

first off. hi. hope u had a yummy thanksgiving if u celebrate it and if not i also hope ur having a good day !!

ALSO WTF WHY WOULD I DELETE THIS i literally woke up this morning and checked my tumblr notifs as one does and i literally see this behemoth of an ask and im reading through and im literally screaming bc why is this my internal monologue. like. did u get inside my head or something??? did u steal this from my brain bc i literally think about this approximately 1000 times a day.

i’ll literally be at work and my thoughts be like ughhh i wanna hurt him and make him cry but also want to love him and take care of him but also want to fuck him so so slow and deep i can feel it moving around if i put on hand on his abdomen and then i just spiral and then i remember im making a fuckin caramel macchiato or something >.<

so!! in spirit of our delusion i’m planning to write smthin for u based off of this vibe!! just give me a lil bit 👉👈

BUT TELL ME EVERYTHING TELL ME ALL UR THOUGHTS I WANT TO HEAR THEM ALL I WANT TO KNOWWWW ‘i have so much more to say’ okay prove it. tell me everything

[tusk-rumours]

wendigo helps us to uck

authors note: proper fic because i am not drunk

aazytexdwszaasxdcvunybvrcxsdcf gbnkujy hgfds

summary: wendigo hurts us, the boys are concerned so we fuck

co-wrote with @mxilkyways , thank you so much for this! you’re gonna ask me what i’m doing and it’s called crediting you for your hard work 🥰🥰

----------------

we hunt in the woods

the wendigo gives us big scratch

owie

seqg 5sqon68rn uf

we go bacj to motel, dean cursing as he drifves

the door closes, the boys face us

what the frick?!?! tgqrt whas bit xiii, ma.

i did what i had to do, come lick jp my blood, freak. ok

desan licks our wound with his sexy, active tongue, while sam crouces down, wrapping his arms around our leg, mosnimg.

sammy come up here.

but baby you're injured, i dont want to hurt you, let me make you all better okay?

fuck me.

okay.

dean p0uts you flat on the bed, spread like butter on a quality, fresh slice of white bread. he setlles over you, sam on hus back like a monkey, as they both stare down at yu hungrily.

bite my wound.

they bite like vampires, hungry and needy. as they do this, it summons prince charming from shrek.

im hot, and i have good hair. my lips are cherry flavoured, want to taste?

mmmm yes please dean sighs, leaninfg in. prince charming and dean move to the other bed, makimng passionate love. mmmcherry, CHREERY.

me and asam, alone.

you aere so fucking hot i wanna lick you all over, giving you everything you want, just top me and fuck me already i need you more than i need air to drink. please.

i have been waiting for you to day that, i wanna rail you and hold you and pull yiur hsir and put me uop into yorur lungs, trust me im that big.

i bet u are.

come get this sexy, i say.

wait i gotta make a tweet, get the fuck off me sam.

w-what? no, pay attention to me.

no, my fans need me, i must make a semi-problematic tweet that will have the internet spiralling and half of. it turning against me, please, let me do this, its critical to the development of my career.

baby no, just talk to me.

i cant over the moans of dean and prince charming, they loud af.

lets go somewhere private.

no i wanna join. chaerming, let me top you, and i can pull those luscious locks to a new dimension, fairy godmother dont have to know ok

you are a. beast y/n

let me unravel you like the layers of an onion, my prince. let me shove my dronkey sized strap on up your dragon sized badussy, king.

yes, my maginifcant queen - i will let you penertrate me.

what about me? dean whines as his weaping weanus sits erect against his breasts

yes, you will get attention too dean, now go annally fuck sammy while i tweeet about prince chaerming and i

ok, slay

good boy dean

my tweet: 'i love my prince charming he is so humble, i fuck him like no other, sammy and dean are fducking nedxt to me but i ignore, thus me previal, i look at my golden retriever boyfriend above me, the cherry scent filling my synapses. a medieval meal, please. he says right away ma'am and takes me straight to pound town in a land far, far away.'

10k reblogs in 10 mins. #iconic

ok now u can fuck me. proceed sire.

he insered

his rather large genetalia broke forth my vaginal ducts and penertrated me. i could thus feel every vein and protrusion amgong his beast as he rapidly thrusted into thy vagine. his sire's hips sputter as hsis seed fills my walls, childering swimming in my hole.

i groan

sam - we stop. im having a vision.

what is it

prince mr sexy charming will murder us all!!!

oh no

seize him dean states in that sexy dominant tone of his.

the clothed fly back on our bodies. sam, are you sure?

yes, kill the bastard.

no but his monster cock :(((((

live without it whore

k. '

he dies bc dean strangles him.

man, i wish, i think.

sam reads my mind. i can read minds too, purify yourself you fucking dirty slut.

wait, NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

sam pours holy water on me, and i burn.

mm nedcrophilly.

emnd of scene.

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

What happened with chapter 19 of reason?

i'm super late to responding to this but i'm glad u asked this bc i completely forgot that the tumblr app ppl (not the users, the creators/reviewers, idk what they r called) reviewed the ch. 19 post & decided it needed a community label aka a 'mature: sexual themes' label so ig that makes it so u can't read it unless ur 18+ ? at least, i'm assuming that's how it works anyway

Regardless, it's annoying bc other chapters have had a lot more "sExUaL tHeMeS" than that one-and have prolly mentioned worse (ex. the chapter w devon's past etc etc) BUT that one got flagged somehow

But basically, I'm just gonna repost chapter 19 in this post & if it gets flagged/labelled again I'll jus make a separate post w a ch. 19 summary or something

~ Reason - ch. 19 repost below ~

Devon quickly placed the last dish on the rack and grabbed a hand towel. She hastily dried her hands before looking down at her clothes to make sure she hadn’t gotten them wet.

They were-in fact-not wet, “Perfect.”

Just as she headed towards the door she paused. She patted at her sides.

“Shit.” she muttered, “My bag.”

She ran to her room and grabbed her bag.

Just as she ran back to the living room, Levi had entered the apartment. He wore his typical Scout attire minus the ODM gear. His scout regiment jacket was also slung over his arm.

She suddenly got a flashback to their second encounter on the street—where he’d defended her from a drunk man. He’d had his jacket slung over his arm just like that.

She shook her head, “Levi..Hey.”

He briefly looked her up and down, “Where you going?”

“To work. I’m running a little late.”

She spoke quickly as she slipped through the narrow space between him and the door.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if your—“

“Wait.” he suddenly threw his jacket onto the table before stepping out and closing the door behind them.

She raised a brow, “What-“

He locked the apartment door, “I’ll walk with you.”

She blinked, “Oh.”

She didn’t think too much of it as she headed towards the steps. He followed after her.

“How late are you?”

She glanced over at him. He looked tired-which was typical for him-but it still didn’t make her feel any better about it.

“Not that late. I just want to have enough time to walk there, y’know.”

He descended the steps alongside her. When they reached the bottom he opened the door for her to walk out first.

“Thank you.” she murmured.

The moment they stepped outside they were greeted with the searing hot warmth of the sun. She adjusted the top hat over her eyes.

She kept a hand on her purse’s strap as she walked through the crowded streets. She glanced over to see Levi walk in stride beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“Have you been getting any sleep?” she asked-a bit hesitant.

He didn’t look at her when he answered, “What-do I look tired.”

She didn’t get the chance to respond because a line of three kids suddenly ran in between them.

“Sorry!” One of them called out.

Suddenly one of the kids stopped and stared. He then whispered something to his friend.

His friend perked up, “Captain Levi?”

Another kid suddenly joined them and pointed at Levi, “It’s Captain Levi!”

“Tch,” he grumbled before grabbing her top hat and placing it atop his head. He lowered the brim in an attempt to cover his face.

She chuckled, “You don’t want to meet your fans?”

“No.” he responded flatly.

She laughed once more before looking ahead to see that the road was getting more crowded. This road was always busy because the market was nearby.

The moment she stepped into the swarm of people, she drew her purse tighter around herself. When she was younger she used to utilize crowds like this. She would pickpocket whatever she could get her grimy little hands on.

She gasped when she almost ran into someone. She’d been too immersed in her thoughts to notice. If it hadn’t been for the hand on her back, she would’ve been face first on the ground right now. She glanced over to see a stern looking Levi standing right behind her.

Just as he caught her peeking at him she quickly faced forward. She swiftly began to make her way through the crowd-his hand on her back silently guiding her through.

When they finally weaved their way out she sighed in relief. His fingers skimmed her back as his hand dropped.

She stopped to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand, “We’re finally here.”

“Where is it?”

She pointed a little further down the street towards the bookstore. Her manager stood outside. She appeared to be rearranging the books on the mini-stand by the window.

“Ah,” he murmured before turning towards her and placing the hat back on her head.

She stared as he readjusted the brim.

“Thanks for the cookbook.”

He seemed to freeze for a second before dropping his hand, “Your welcome.”

“I hope…you didn’t think that would make me forgive you.”

A glint of amusement entered his gaze, “I would never bribe you.”

She squinted, “I hope not.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” he said flatly.

She rolled her eyes.

For some reason, she was hesitant to go.

“I made a couple recipes from it. The leftovers in the fridge are actually from it.”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding.

“Let me know how it tastes.” she added.

“I will.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek before mumbling, “I guess…I’ll get going.”

Just as she turned away, his hand caught her elbow and drew her close, “Wait,”

He spoke briskly, “I’m gonna be away a while. Expedition Prep and stuff.”

His grey-blue eyes searched her face, “Don’t do some dumb shit like die when I’m away.”

Despite his hands on her making it incredibly hard to focus-she couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

She tilted her head, “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

His hand slid down her forearm ever so slightly, “Don’t worry about me.”

She cracked a smile so distracting he almost forgot that they were in public.

“I wouldn’t dare.” she mocked him.

She slipped out of his grasp and ran towards the bookstore.

She stopped short when her manager and two of her co-workers seemed to be staring at her. She slowly made her way towards them.

“Hi, Sorry if I’m lat-“

“That’s your husband isn’t it?” Her manager, Larsa, asked with crossed arms while staring past her.

Her other co-worker, Piper, shook her head, “Of course not. She’s so young. They are probably engaged.”

“That’s definitely her fiancé,” Iris-her other co-worker-added, “She wouldn’t touch him so publicly if they weren’t.”

Devon flushed in embarrassment. Although times were progressing it was still unusual to see a man and woman touching in public if they weren’t betrothed or married. She couldn’t use the excuse that Levi was her brother either because they didn’t look alike in the slightest.

She faltered at her words, “I-um-yeah, fiancé.”

“Then where’s your ring?” Larsa questioned.

“Um-we can’t afford one right now.”

Piper’s eyes softened, “You guys are runaways aren’t you? It would explain why you don’t talk much about yourself.”

“Aww,” Iris pitched in, “We won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

Devon’s eyes widened.

“Look at him,” Larsa was still staring past her, “He’s still staring at her like a lost puppy.”

Lost puppy? Those were the exact words she would use to describe how Monty looked at Imada.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that Levi was-in fact-still standing where she’d left him. But nothing about his stoic disposition indicated lost puppy eyes to her.

She quickly turned away and her face red with embarrassment.

“Guys, let’s just go inside.”

As she hastily ushered them through the door, Iris sent a friendly wave Levi’s way. Devon immediately reached out and put her hand down.

“What?” Iris blinked, “I can’t wave at your fiancé?”

“He’s not—” Devon was redder than a tomato, “Just go inside.”

He watched the girls bicker as they entered the bookstore. He only left once Devon closed the doors behind herself.

Devon stopped reading when she heard the front door open. She set the book down quietly before glancing at the mini clock on the nightstand.

2:38 am.

She stood up and walked to her bedroom door. She pressed her ear against it.

She frowned when she heard nothing.

She cracked it open slightly only to see Levi walking straight into the bathroom. Her eyes widened as she saw his dress-shirt was smeared with blood. He held a box of gauze pads in his hand.

She ran out of her room.

“Levi?”

He stopped in the bathroom doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, “Go to sleep.”

She swallowed, “Your bleeding…”

He closed the bathroom door.

She stared in astonishment. Her mind was racing with questions. That was a lot of blood.

Just as she hesitantly turned into her room she heard a low hiss. She stared at the bathroom door in contemplation.

She bit her bottom lip before quietly stepping up to the door. She pressed her ear against it. Low grunts of pain could be heard.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before knocking. After a bit of shuffling, the door cracked open slightly. She only saw a glimpse of his bare arm.

“What.”

She hesitated, “Let me help you.”

Just as he was about to shut the door, she wrapped her hand around the door’s edge.

“Please.” she whispered.

There was a moment of silence. For a second she contemplated withdrawing her hand in case he slammed the door closed anyway but-to her surprise-she heard the door chain drop.

She opened the door slowly to see him step back.

He was shirtless. His pale skin was lined with marks of healed scars. He wasn’t broad by any means. In fact, he was rather the opposite. He was narrow but incredibly-incredibly-defined. There was something about the way his wire-y muscles corded his body that made her see just how lethal he was. He was undoubtedly strong.

She couldn’t pin down why…but his body scared her.

She didn’t understand how people only associated strength with broadness. Under all that prim clothing he had hidden such strength… It made her realize that—despite his height and all her training—he could break her if he wanted to.

She swallowed.

He didn’t look at her as he removed the gauze pad from his wound. It was a long but thin gash under his chest, along his ribs. It seemed he had already sterilized it-from the smell of rubbing alcohol and the open bottle of it on the sink-but it was still bleeding profusely.

She walked over and gently took the gauze pad from his hand. She slipped between the narrow space between him and the sink and lightly dabbed at the wound. Her hands were shaky at first but after repeating the motion a couple of times she regained her composure.

When she turned to grab another gauze pad, the tip of his nose grazed her cheekbone.

“S-sorry,” she mumbled-even though it was no fault of her own.

She dabbed the fresh pad along his wound-never letting the blood spill out too far. His hot breath trailed down the bare skin of her neck. She knew he was looking at her-because even if she wasn’t meeting his eyes, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her skin. It made her skin feel hot and prickly. It made her shirt feel too thin. It made her stomach churn in a way that only seemed to happen when he was around.

And it was taking everything-everything in her-to not look back at him.

Instead she turned away again and disposed of the pad in her hand to grab another. She also grabbed the bandage tape.

“D-do you have scissors?” she asked, her voice uneven.

He took the tape from her hands and pulled out a length of it. He placed the tape’s edge between his teeth and ripped it off. He handed the tape piece to her.

She took it. His arm went around her to place the bandage roll back onto the sink.

She placed a fresh gauze pad to the middle of the tape and pressed it to his wound. Thankfully, it was bleeding much less now. When she wrapped the excess tape around him he inhaled sharply.

She glanced up, “Too tight?”

Her breath caught when she realized how close they were. Up close, water dripped down his face-he must’ve wet it when he entered the bathroom. Strands of his dark hair stuck to his forehead.

His deep voice felt right at her ear when he muttered, “It’s fine.”

She gently smoothed out the bandage once more before stepping back. The tape was rather sturdy so one piece would do just fine.

“Should be all set.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“Thank you.”

She finally met his gaze and her heart immediately fell. His dark gray eyes seemed to carry a newfound weight. The shadows under his eyes were more palpable than before. His lips were parched and one end of his thin eyebrows looked as if it had been flayed off. He looked like a completely different man compared to the one who had dropped her off to work a month ago.

Is this what being a Scout does to you?

She wanted to ask him what happened. She wanted to ask him how he’d gotten injured. She wanted to ask if the expedition had-at least-been a success. But his third rule forbid her from doing so.

Three… don’t ask me about Scout stuff.

His words echoed in her mind.

“You have work tomorrow?” he asked-unexpectedly.

“Yes.”

He motioned with his chin towards her room, “Get some sleep.” 

She nodded-still slightly dazed, “Good night.”

She closed the bathroom door behind herself on the way out.

a/n: here's the link to ch. 20 if u need it :)

[igbylicious]

hwa: Dommy mommy Hwa? sign me the fuck uP. These words you speak remind me of twitter user hwcberry's art :')

hellooooooo all their art is gorgeous????? (*♡∀♡) i just spent soooo much time scrolling through their account asdkjadsjkdas god i really don’t want to get a twitter account but on days like these i am TESTED (.❛ ω ❛ .)

(I can't stop imagining mommy!hwa taking care of the members when they're sad and miss home, are stressed from too much work and too little sleep etc ;_; Just, woo/san/yeosang/[name] crying into his tiddies as he pets and reassures them, coos over them, and then probably rails them to make it all better.)

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ♡

i Need seonghwa's cock and strap Right Now actually byeeee

that popped into my head literally while typing out the post and i’ve been HAUNTED by the visual ever since T_T

this fucking SENT me, there's something so mean (affectionate) about treating a sub's body like they're something to be toyed with and made to do things just for the dom's amusement. smth smth light objectification,

yes yes YES!!! >:3 ngl objectification is highkey one of my favourite kinks askjdskajads she’s just SUCH a versatile queen and plays so nicely together w/ so many other kinks! and she doesn’t even need much for a big impact, like even just a lil sprinkling through your degradation or praise will already spice things up deliciously (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

strongly agree that he'd have a very hard time hiding how good he feels >u> you know that sorrowful looking crease he gets in between his eyebrows when he sings smth particularly high? yeah.

THE EXACT MENTAL IMAGE I HAD IN MY HEAD HOW DID YOU KNOOOOOOWWWWW (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

hongjoong: YEa he very much has the vibe of someone who will be a bit of a meanie, but will immediately drop the act and make sure you're okay if you he gets even the slightest sense that you aren't enjoying it. he's actually so so polite and, more importantly, genuinely caring, and he'd do his absolute best to only do things both of you actually enjoy ; ;

nooooo for real! ;; i can picture Hongjoong as a sadist dom i cannot picture him as even a slightly careless or self-centered one ;;

every single thing you said about sub joong, [chef's kiss emoji]. i don't think i've actually seen any sassy brat hongjoong fics, but now i wanna >U>

i don’t think i have either! the NEED for it tho oof, i just need this man to sass and roll his eyes at me (or Seonghwa uwu) and get wrecked for it PLEASE 🥺

NO i remember this too. the menace.

oKAY so that was NOT a feverdream i hallucinated up abt Yunho good good good good good (i’m not good)

and yet i can't help but feel like he's pretty vanilla. it always seems just a bit off to me when he's written as a hard, mean dom (no hate to those that live their truth though 💯💯💯).

lol not to go off on a ramble and get too deep abt horny kpop fantasies but honestly the differences are always really fun to see, to me at least! like, atinys are all looking at the same ppl and the same videos and yet we can still end up in such DIFFERENT places. obv part of it is projection of our own preferences, but also that we all take away and focus on very different aspects of these men. it just says smth abt the inherent subjectivity of human perception and idk i just find that stuff interesting (ᵔ◡ᵔ)

(just as long as everyone does have that same live-and-let-live attitude abt it lol)

(also; HUGE fan of the soft vanilla Yunho agenda! it’s just so sweet to think abt and suits him really well ;; ♡ )

his eyes just look soft and light in a way i can't imagine ever changing, even though i've literally seen them change when he's on stage lol. but like, in his own personal life? im not convinced. ig i'll have to keep reading hard dom yunho things for research purposes :3c

LOL the things we do in the name of research ♡(>ᴗ•)

i think it’s in some very small moments for me! like; the wanteez episode in which they play the zombie game (w/ Yeosang as the judge who gets eaten, not the one in the high school) is one of my go-to watches if i need a quick pick-me-up, and there is this tiny moment where Yunho lowkey warns Mingi abt goofing off that is seared into my brain @_@ and since i rewatch that episode pretty often, that moment has prob coloured my view of Yunho more than it really ought to (but that’s what i mean abt perception being so subjective!)

but tbh also just the intense contrast w/ his usual softness is a huge appeal for me @_@ and i can’t explain why Yunho scratches that particular itch while for someone like say, Yeosang, i am not into the contrast-factor at all! i just don’t see it! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the horny brain does not always make sense lol

ANYWAY that’s enough of my hard dom Yunho agenda lol i shall free you from my ramblings xD

see now that you say this, i can very much imagine him enjoying things he doesn't personally care for, only because his partner is visibly/audibly affected >:3

saaaame he strikes me as SUCH a ‘gets off on his partners’ pleasure’ guy :’3

ACK smol yunho ;A; he deserves to feel so so small and cute always!!! i think he would be SUCH a good boy, just as you said =u= all big pleading emoji eyes and whimpers. he deserves the world ;A;

he is so sweet and kind and has such beautiful big brown eyes and i am a simple soul; i just wish to see those eyes tear up a lil from how good he feels 〒▽〒

ok Mood,

asdjkdsj yeah i saw that abt Yeosang in your post and i was like ‘yeeeeep i feel ya’ lol. i have enjoyed a few fic w/ him as a hard dom, but it’s like… idk how to explain. those tapped into smth where i could enjoy the mental image of him cast into that role, without any strong sense of ‘i could actually imagine him being like this’. (i feel a similar way abt AU’s that deliberately make major changes to the guys’ personalities! it’s fun, just in a different way than versions of them that stick closer to what they seem like irl!)

[edit: OH you literally said this right after lmaooo]

lol same-braining! (´ ω `♡)

...who said that,

a choir of angels straight from heaven singing their beautiful truth… ;; [standing ovation]

you already know i live for every single sub!san word that comes out of your mouth (and atp dom!san words too)

[picture me making the exact same face and gestures as Wooyoung in the gif you shared in your reblog (♡μ_μ) ]

no fr thats SO fucking cute and i can totally see it especially with less experienced mingi :'))

inexperienced Mingi would be so incredibly precious!!! („ಡωಡ„)

i just think he's always in the mood to sub. and im right :3

me five minutes ago: we all see and interpret these men in such different ways and that only makes the fandom all the more interesting & fun :)

me now: this is 100% correct Wooyoung told me so himself in a dream 😤

not a day goes by where i don't think about this wooyoung. he was so happy he couldnt help but be silly about it T_T <3

LOOK AT HIM FAAAAACEEEEEEEEEE ;; god he’s just SO precious i can’t w/ the lil hand gesture 〒▽〒 ♡

OH WORM??

I AM SO EXCITED ABT THE NEXT WHIWAY CHAPTER YOU HAVE NO IDEA HE’S GONNA BE SUCH A MENACE UWU ♡

im losing commenting-steam but ACH K sub jongho being well behaved.....what a dreamy little guy i love him and ilu too MWAH <3

lol i love how you wrapped that up hahahah (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) energy low, Isak OUT!

(but for real i’m glad you tap out if the energy isn’t there! i love your commentary so much but i love you and you taking care of yourself even MORE hehe (´ ε ` )♡ )

SUB / DOM ATEEZ HARD THOUGHTS

@wooyoungisbaby Isak asked abt dom / sub thoughts for the guys, and my rambling got out of hand. as it always does lol. self-control? we don’t know her

(ik you suggested to do this for the whiway au but! then i wouldn’t be able to talk abt sub Yunho :( & i can’t not talk abt sub Yunho :((( so these are just general thoughts abt the guys hehe~ ฅV●ᴥ●Vฅ)

sooooooo i am a huge switch-teez enthusiast; and this is essentially a bullet-point dissertation w/ a selection of d/s thoughts for each of the guys that make me go particularly 👀 they’re not meant to be speculation abt the guys’ preferences, just things that are very easy for me to imagine & that i think would be very very hot of them (｡◝‿◜｡)

warnings: dom / sub themes obv. also mentions of; penetrative sex, overstimulation, oral, ass eating, mommy kink, lingerie (on Hwa), riding crop, strap-on, DP in unspecified holes, dacryphilia, shibari / bondage, premature ejaculation, hair-pulling, drooling, sadism, corruption kink, brat taming, sugar daddy vibes, jewelry on reader, hand kink, implied choking, fingering (again unspecified holes), edging, puppy play, role play (including cnc for Yunho but no in-depth details), cockwarming, marking / bruises, blindfolds, pain kink, praise kink, dry humping, degradation kink, orgasm denial, dirty talk, biting, hair pulling, face sitting

a/n: gender neutral reader. genitalia are mentioned once w/ options. implied double anal penetration in absence of a puss, implied pegging in absence of a cock. there is a brief mention that reader could wear heels if they wanted for a scenario.

also my Yunho bias shows hard x_x i tried to keep the lengths under control but i just let myself go for his and i shall not apologise for it asdskjdasjk

⩥ SEONGHWA

Dom:

whether he is soft & gentle or hard & mean, Seonghwa is always elegant

even with sweat dripping off his nose from the exertion of fucking into you, even with his lower face covered in slick from eating pussy or cum dribbling down his chin from sucking dick, he is the most graceful dom to ever walk this earth

his long tongue is a blessing but his technique and dedication are divinity

you WILL get overstimulated

yes i have the mommy Seonghwa brainrot. yes i like imagining him in lingerie and a corset and make-up and heels while he’s in utter and complete control

to finish the look; riding crop??? riding crop.

also idk why but the thought of Hwa with a strap-on makes me so fucking dizzy. this man fucking you w/ two cocks at once

his strap would be so sleek and elegant too just like him

matches his favourite lingerie probably; Hwa is dedicated to the aesthetics

speaking of aesthetics; shibari (that’s it that’s the tweet)

saccharine sweet if you earn it

Sub:

fucking pathetic sloppy mess as a sub

listen i just really love the hc that Seonghwa is super sensitive and might cum prematurely asdskjasdjkdaskj

will prob cum from just being manhandled into giving head if he can get even just a lil friction going somewhere 👀 as a sub he likes to get sloppy, loves having his hair pulled

(ass, cock or pussy, this man gets drunk on it)

like if you want to do a long scene together; it’s so easy to just get a quick orgasm out of him and then have a real fucking hyper-sensitive Seonghwa at your disposal for the remainder of the night uwu

tie him up for maximum effect

cries so easily 🥺

can’t hide a thing, every ounce of pleasure shows on his face like an open book

hiccups and sobs and bite-swollen lips bc he keeps gnawing at his bottom lip, so so easily overwhelmed

…again; lingerie. put him in thigh-highs and knead at the soft flesh and cover those thighs all over w/ bites and hickeys

⩥ HONGJOONG

Dom:

listen…………we all know that grin………………………………………

what kind of world do we live in if our captain is not at least a tiny bit of a sadist??

lives to hear you beg

degradation as praise? praise as degradation? the line between being praised and being demeaned is soooo fucking razor-thin w/ this man

100% on purpose he likes it when you can’t tell for sure

(tho he is super cognisant of your state of mind. if he sees the doubt is genuinely getting to you, you’re getting a dose of pure unmistakable praise to settle you down)

he’ll happily tame a brat but he looooves ruining a sub who is already pliant for him. just to be mean.

i’m all aboard the Hongjoong corruption kink agenda

not even necessarily in a ‘you are inexperienced’ way (tho he can work w/ that 👀)

but watching you go from all immaculate and put-together to a depraved begging mess

yep

that does it for him

likes giving you jewelry to wear during sex. delicate body-chains and pretty necklaces that bounce when he fucks you. lowkey sugar daddy vibes; he loves seeing you decked out, but he esp loves seeing you decked out in things he bought you

Sub:

so while i love the image of Hongjoong offering himself up on a silver platter to you w/ a crooked grin; tbh i feel like he has potential to be a sub who outbrats even Wooyoung if he is In A Mood

the SASS on this man!!!

but once you break that snarky attitude? dear god the whines coming out of him ♨_♨

(listen do not be surprised if i use some variation of the word ‘whiny’ in every single sub section bc i know what i like and i am shameless abt it asdkjasdj)

noisy squirmy boi

on his elbows and knees, biting at the sheets as he gets fucked hard from behind, going slack-jawed and drooling on the bed as you wreck him into a stupor

fucked into complete physical exhaustion in the direct aftermath — but let him have a quick nap and his energy is like… he might still be tired but he’s also feeling so replenished? esp mentally

if he’s recently had a lot of on his mind then you might be treated to deep philosophical musings during the aftercare abt the world, the universe, life and everything

⩥ YUNHO

Dom:

i get pulled so hard into two directions w/ this man pls it’s not funny anymore i need HELP

he’s both the softest vanilla and the hardest freakiest dom out of the bunch to me, he's got my brain spinning

listen yall we all know how willingly Yunho indulges the fandom’s massive hard-on for his hands, imagine what he’ll do if he’s your partner ♨_♨

he gets off on how much you get off on having his hands around your neck

also unless i hallucinated that whole thing; Yunho has said he likes hearing atiny whine his name (sir?!?!?!?) so I'm gonna say he's a tease even when he's soft with you

takes you to the brink with those long fingers over and over again, pretends the edging is by accident

presses sweet kisses on your forehead or your tummy or your thighs as he laughs softly at your whining but points out he needs to get you prepped first for what he's packing; he just doesn't want to hurt you uwu

whether it is sincere sweetness or w/ an edge of mocking, depends entirely on his mood

(fake sweet Yunho my beloved ;;)

you're not fooled by his shenanigans but there's little you can do except gasp and squirm under him as his fingers press against your sweet spot again

still he’ll praise you every step of the way, and the payoff is more than worth it, he always makes sure of that

ok so the next thing isn’t really a dom / sub thing but it’s going somewhere that is, pls hear me out;

Yunho is totally up for some playful rp; he’ll do cheesy porn set-ups w/ you except he cannot keep a straight face through them to save his life lol. very lighthearted silly giggly sex that still makes your toes curl

he can keep a straight face through a very different type of role play; cnc

it’s not uncommon for Yunho to try and make you laugh during sex if a moment presents itself — but here he fully sinks into the role and there won’t be any light-heartedness until the aftercare,

and then you’ll be giggling twice as much as usual, once the timing is right ;;

the aftercare giggles are for Yunho’s benefit too; he needs to make and see you smile & laugh to feel like he’s fully come back into himself. to regain the right emotional equilibrium after taking on such an intense role

then he’s your sweet smiley golden retriever again ;;

might just fuck you again if you both have the energy, sweet and soft and slow this time ♡

Sub:

OKAY SO FIRST THINGS FIRST i gotta bring up that video in which Seonghwa and Wooyoung wear heels for a shoot and they joke around abt their heights — but then Yunho turns to the camera and whispers he’d like to be small; bc he’d be cute!!!

he’s always been pocket-sized in spirit to me so that had me by the throat asdkjasdkjd

so yeah i like to think he enjoys feeling small as a sub! not in a demeaning way, not even in a physical way necessarily!

(tho to be down on his knees in front of a dom who is either pretty tall or wearing heels (or both) does make him feel fantastically fuzzy)

no, it’s more like a cute lil pup who’s getting spoiled bc he’s a good boy uwu

(actual petplay optional~ ฅV●ᴥ●Vฅ)

love a sub Yunho who’s soft and well-behaved

and he wants to be! he wants to be a good boy and get pampered by his dom!! but sometimes his big golden retriever energy gets the better of him oop

(the video clip of a literal child scolding Yunho because “this hyung just won’t listen to me” lives in my head rent-free.)

and Yunho just can't always fight his brain when it sends him a fun impulse askdjdaskjsd

but it only takes gentle steering to get him back on track; like i said, he wants to be well-behaved for you 🥺

ok but to circle back to the puppy play

Yunho who loves being your good boy and is so playful and sweet — but he obediently lets you take your time to work him up and get him desperate

big brown eyes shimmering at you as you scratch him behind the ears while stroking his big hard cock

begging you to let him fuck you, to just let him inside you

so you sit in his lap and cockwarm him but you can tell it’s not enough, gets teary-eyed and he bites his lip to stop himself from whining bc you’re already giving him so much and he wants to be good

so you have mercy on him and let him fuck you from behind — if he makes you cum first

now there’s a demand Yunho can work with

usually he’s a hands-on guy but in puppy mode he prefers using his mouth and tongue. so he’s snugly between your thighs, getting himself messy. constant eye-contact as he peeks up at you, massaging your thighs and maybe even leaving a bite if he’s feeling cheeky — but he knows better than to tease too much

he is so far gone by the time he’s finally allowed to fuck you that he can’t do anything but mindlessly rut until he cums hard, gasping and shaking

still he makes sure not to collapse on top of you, instead slides off to the side and pulls you into his arms for a snuggle 🥺

(see Isak i wasn’t kidding abt whipping up a 1k essay just for Yunho alone! lol oop)

⩥ YEOSANG

Dom:

so tbh it’s much easier for me to picture Yeosang as a sub, but i do have this very specific idea for him that i can’t get out of my head of like

curiosity-driven dom Yeosang

maybe he was a lil shy at first, cautiously exploring your body and testing your reactions, but his eyes just lit up with intrigue when you let out a loud moan he didn't expect

that moment kick-starts it all, with him becoming bolder and bolder to seek out any other responses to his touch

do you moan when he kisses you here? do you gasp at a bite there? squirm when he pinches here?

and he never grows satisfied as he maps out your responses to pleasure — and pain, if you are so inclined

like

Yeosang stumbles into the whole pain play thing purely by accident but it’s barely even abt the sadism for him? if that makes sense?? it’s all about you and your arousal and the wide range of pleasure he can draw from you

he just wants to know

there’s always this sense of wonder abt him and his sparkling eyes when he’s playing w/ you

he probably gets even more experimental as time passes, actively on the look-out for new things he can try out

you’ll just be having a quiet evening and Yeosang comes up to you w/ that adorable small smile that on a surface level is full of innocence

but no he’s cutely excited to show you some obscure toy he found online and wants to know if you’re onboard ^^

Sub:

so vocal (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

shy but has a reeeaaaally hard time holding himself back if he’s overwhelmed

seriously so so noisy w/ lil whimpers and moans and quiet hitches of his breath. takes a bit for him to truly get loud, but dear god you’re still treated to a goddamn symphonic masterpiece of delectable noises

speaking of getting him loud 👀

if Yeosang trusts you but there’s some last remnant of shyness that he needs to shake off

he loves getting blindfolded

not seeing anything makes it easier for him to get lost in the pleasure; if nothing else exists in the world except you and your touch, he has nothing to be self-conscious of

that’s where he can get loud

can’t sit or lay still if you’re worshiping that gorgeous body or giving head; you’re gonna have to hold him down to stop his fidgety squirming uwu

gets flushed easily too

bruises like a peach and tho he gets shy abt marks in visible places, he lowkey loves it when you treat his chest like a blank canvas

pls gently brush his hair back & give his birth mark a lil peck during the aftercare okay? 🥺

⩥ SAN

Dom:

is it cheeky to say “just read whichever way”? it is?? okay alright lol

no but okay this man is dripping w/ care & devotion i want him SIMPING!!!

he LIVES for the praise and the validation, all it takes is a lil bit of encouragement and positive enforcement; and he may be the dom but you’ve still got him wrapped around your finger

while he can be the softest of soft service doms, it doesn’t take much to get San a lil rougher w/ you; he gets amped up easily and loves using his strength to your advantage

but you want him to be a mean dom? you can get him there but you’ll have to WORK for it by riling him the fuck up w/ some attitude bc this man’s natural instincts are to just please you all through the night (´︶｀)

San also loves to surprise-pin you against the wall. there’s just smth abt the spontaneity and passion of the moment that gets him going hard

depending on his mood he could either fuck you right then and there, or ravish you only to pull away w/ a smug, self-satisfied grin at how wrecked you are from just making out and a bit of dry-humping

(he’ll be back. San is too horned up to not finish the job)

Sub:

MAKE! HIM!! WHIMPER!!! AND CRY!!!!!!!

no but seriously a flushed Sannie pouting up at you when you deny him again 🥺

just the thought of him as like

a very very soft sub who yearns to get fucking wrecked by you 🥺

make him whine and writhe until he can’t handle it anymore and tears begin to streak down his cheeks

body worship melts this man into a fucking puddle and yes i am also talking abt tittie appreciation here

he always wants to be so strong and reliable for others but here in your care is where he can let all of that go 🥺 and just break down until you put him together again 🥺

SO MUCH CUDDLING IN THE AFTERCARE

YOU COULDN’T GET OUT OF HIS ARMS IF YOU TRIED

PLS DON’T TRY; JUST LOVINGLY STROKE HIS HAIR AND WHISPER SWEET PRAISES AT HIM 🥺🥺🥺

⩥ MINGI

Dom:

okay so i also get pulled so hard into two very different directions when it comes to dom Mingi askjasdjkdsa

one is Mingi the needy mess

like

maybe he doesn’t even mean to dom you but he’s so desperate for it he just can’t wait and ends up overwhelming you and it’s lowkey kinda clumsy but very sweet and oh god he just wants you so so bad 🥺

BUT THEN THERE IS

Mingi w/ his damn cocky on-stage energy?? and he’s intense and confident and knows what he wants??? (you, ruined)

like idk either way i have many feelings abt dom Mingi being super intense and he will overwhelm you either way, either by accident or by design

just strap in tight bc he wants to hear you ♨_♨

very vocal himself too. i like the thought of him spewing filth at you first but very quickly losing the capacity for any coherent dirty talk

still

you will hear him too OOF

high & whiny or low & raspy? y e s

Sub:

PRINCESS MINGIIIIIII!!!! (♡°▽°♡)

spoil him give him whatever the hell his heart desires!!!!!! again a NOISY MESS!!! tears up easily but doesn’t like to admit he’s crying uwu

gets even more discombobulated than as a dom hehe~

however

much like his buddy Yunho, i don't think Mingi often deliberately tries to misbehave

but he can get a bit sulky sometimes if he feels neglected

or, on the other side of the spectrum, just a touch too confident if he’s gotten too used to you giving him exactly what he wants and starts treating it as a given, or makes lil jokes abt it

it edges against that cockiness again but tbh it’s also lowkey endearing on him as a sub; his blind faith in your devotion to his pleasure

but you may choose to give him a lil reminder of who is actually in charge ♡ denying him a few times until he’s whining and babbling incoherently at you should do the trick perfectly ♡♡♡

don’t be too mean abt it tho :( remember he’s a princess :(((

⩥ WOOYOUNG

Dom:

OKAY SO YES ISAK I’M FULLY W/ YOU ON THE BRAT THING

like i said truly my favourite flavour of dom Wooyoung is a fucking tease of a menace who isn’t so much a dom as a brat who hasn’t been tamed yet

if he’s domming you and you’re in the mood to turn the tables? this man’s switch is flipped in an INSTANT you just gotta yank his hair hard and spew out some filthy degradation and he’s putty in your hands

brace yourself if he’s got you tied up tho lol. he is gonna enjoy himself :3

honestly he should change his home-address bc this man lives w/ his face between your thighs. gets so fucking drunk on you but never so much that he ever stops his teasing

a true edging enthusiast

hope you like bite-marks on your skin lol

and yet…

and yet i have a big soft spot for soft dom Woo too 🥺

who takes care of you after you’ve had a long, frustrating day 🥺

i feel like he could bigtime spoil and pamper his partners if he feels they really need it 🥺 he might still tease you a lil but it’s only to get you out of your head, maybe even just to make you laugh 🥺

Sub:

love a sub Wooyoung who balances a praise and a degradation kink like he’s walking a tightrope uwu

like we all talk abt his degradation kink bc of course we do!! with good reason!!! but have you seen his giggles and smiles when the other members compliment him???

sometimes he doesn’t even know himself what he’s in the mood for today — or so he tells himself. any bratty urges will make themselves known real damn obvious within mere seconds lol

instigator to the max

initiates phone sex w/ you and then hangs up on you just before it Gets Good just to rile you up (this may be a semi-spoiler 👀)

but he loves the combo special where he brats out to his heart’s content first, gets humiliated and/or punished for his trouble, but oh boy then his mood turns and he eats it UP to get praised for being such a good boy now (´꒳`∗)

will beg you to ride his face

(he’ll have you riding his face as a dom too, he just won’t be begging 👀)

⩥ JONGHO

Dom:

so i actually love love love gentle soft dom Jongho 🥺 but i decided to focus on the flip side for this post

hard dom Jongho who has a mean streak and looooooves to tease the fuck out of you. he doesn’t even need to verbally degrade you (tho he might); you hear his cocky chuckle and know exactly what a pathetic mess he thinks you are for him

but gets soft and SUPER ADORABLE in the aftercare??? just imagine this man fucking you within an inch of your life and then he cleans you up after

and gives you that sweet gummy smile while he’s literally wiping his cum off your body w/ a warm cloth???

giggles when you exhaustedly call him a menace or praise him?????

god i just perished

he loves playing it nonchalant too tho. having you between his legs sucking him off, looking down at your teary eyes and swollen lips bobbing up and down his fat cock like he dgaf

don’t let him fool you — watch for how tightly his hands are clenched into fists

Sub:

just wanna spoil & baby him :( def feel Jongho has to be ‘in the mood’ to sub, but then pls just be so soft with him and take care of him and make him feel good :(

he’d generally be a very soft, well-behaved sub;

he feels that if subbing is the role he’s taking on, then submissiveness is the role he’s taking on, youknow it’s almost matter-of-factly for him

THAT BEING SAID; Jongho is still Jongho and won’t keep his mouth shut if he feels you’re doing or saying smth that deserves to be teased abt or made fun of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

your response needs to be a lil calculated;

he doesn’t really enjoy being outright punished or treated as a brat too much. prob feels it’s undignified lol

…unless he’s already super far gone 👀

so the secret here is to pretend you’re letting his teasing slide — until he’s at the fucking brink and then he’ll accept you laying on a lil bit of punishment as payback 👀

he’s not super loud in bed but you’ll get the prettiest lil breathy gasps and moans out of him asjksdjkdsajkdajs

[grippingbeskar]

not a bad day part 2 | frank castle

part 2 (read part 1 here)

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 7.4k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receving, handjob, mxf intercourse, pain kink, blood kink if u squint) swearing, mentions of violence, description of bruises/wounds, general sexual content

a/n: hey hey i only wrote this because you guys asked for it i hadnt really planned on it so i had to pull a direction out of my ASS but you r all so sweet so hopefully it meets yalls expectations LOVE U K BYE. ALSO bonus points if you know what book the quote is from, i’m sure you can all figure it out!!!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You’d been driving for twenty minutes and Franks hand hadn’t left your thigh. Racking your brain for something to crowd your focus, anything but the way he inched his hand further and further up, his track-pants still covering you from your quick change at the gym. You could see your face in the rear view mirror, and the evidence of what he did to you was plastered all over it. Flushed cheeked reflected back to your still-dazed eyes, the darkness from outside doing nothing to stop its flare.

Looking away, you let the soft hum of the radio drown out your racing thoughts, and you tried to figure out where you are going. Frank just moved here, so you figured he wouldn’t have a place yet, keeping your eyes out for apartment buildings. You also knew he never stayed anywhere too long, the small conversations you would have between training sessions revealed how constantly he moved, and that was believable when you looked behind you, stacks of bags and boxes filling the boot and back seat. You guessed it had something to do with his job, although you weren’t sure what that was exactly, only knowing he was an ex marine. Either way, none of these things took prevalence when his hand squeezed your thigh, dragging your eyes up to him.

“You hungry?” His voice was low, and when you looked at him all the words left your brain and you just nodded. He had put on a shirt now, the grey fabric loose on his shoulders, and he had one hand hanging over the top of the steering wheel, driving with little effort while keeping his other on you. He moved his head towards you when he spoke and his eyes flicked down to where his hand was before returning to the road.

Frank could hardly focus on driving, focus on anything except getting you back to his place. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d thought about it for weeks, getting you to come home with him, and now it was really happening he was acting like a starved man. He’d driven you to yours first, fishing through the water for any clothes and important shit you needed for work, and even that was a fucking task. Not because it was hard, most of your stuff would be fine, just annoying as shit to get through all the water, so he just grabbed whatever was on top of your dressers and shoved it in a bag while you assessed the damage. It was hard because all he was thinking about was the underwear drawer he could see, open and calling his damn name. He had no idea what clothes you wanted, only ever seeing you in your gym gear, but these piqued his interest. Whole lotta sets, laid out neatly for him to scroll through, like you wanted him to do it.

If he was a better man he would have just dumped it in on top of your shit like he had with everything else, but he couldn’t. He liked all of them, only because he could imagine how good you would look, but you had so many he forced himself to pick a few favourites, knowing he would be the one to see you in them. Some of them looked complicated, ties and strings looped together in between straps, and as much as he knows how fucking sexy you would look all tied up in that shit, he was a simple man.

Bright red. Like a bull to a flag, his hands went right to them. They had a couple straps Frank recognised, and the lace between his fingers was soft, and he could imagine how it would feel against your skin. Against other parts of you. His erection still tucked in his waistband was fucking painful now, and the array of outfits he could see you in did nothing but make it worse. He heard you coming back through the doorway, feet wading through the three inch high water, and he swiped the whole drawer into the bag, placing those red ones up top.

So now as he was sitting here, feeling you squirm under his hand before he’d even touched you right, he just kept thinking about how close he was to his apartment, all his trained patience left on the mat of the gym floor.

“You wanna get something, or I can cook?” He tried nonchalantly, spinning the steering wheel with his palm.

“You can cook?” You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. Was there anything this guy couldn’t do? He laughs a little and does that half smile thing that sends your stomach threading in knots.

“Yeah. Thank the army.” Sarcasm hints in his words as you nod.

“Okay, but Im expecting big things, Castle.”

“Big things, huh? Think I can do that.” His hand squeezes your thigh again and you have to press yourself into the seat.

You watch as he accelerates, swerving though the traffic probably a little faster than he needs to, but the added adrenaline just makes your blood pump faster. He finally indicates and pulls in, parking on the side of the road in front of a tall building. It’s brick on the outside, and has a fire escape winding up the front, black stairs stopping at every window forming platforms. Frank pulls the handbrake and turns, picking up your bags and getting out.

“This is way better than my place.” Now you were really curious about what he did for work.

“You tell me that when you’re inside.” He comes up beside you and unlocks the front door leading into the lobby.

“At least it’s waterproof.” He laughs, pressing the button on the elevator a few times.

No lights come up, no indication it’s coming down to your level. He gives it one more go, and then looks over at you. You know what he’s going to say.

“Fine. We both have shitty apartments. I feel like no one really wins here.”

He just laughs again, and his hand comes onto the small of your back as he leads you up the stairs. You stay right behind him, one of your hands balling up on the waist of the track pants to keep them up. It doesn’t take too long to reach his door, and the door is already open when you reach the top because he was so damn fast, Frank dropping your stuff on the table and closing it behind you.

You can’t help your curiosity. Even though you feel a lot of things for Frank, you don’t actually know that much about him. Stepping further in to the apartment, you let your eyes travel across the furniture. It looks like it came with the apartment, and that would make sense considering how the place feels like someone else’s. No photos are on the walls, no clothes lying around, not even a glass on the table or shoes at the door. Maybe it was his army training keeping him neat, but you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest at how lonely the place felt. The only thing that you could see in the small apartment was a few books on the table in front of the couch, and you immediately honed in on them.

Frank let you wander. He felt like you were staring into his fucking soul, even though he had nothing in here. Maybe that was telling you more than it should, but he just watched as you picked out the one thing he kept out. Your fingers traced over the spines of a few of them, picking one up. He had his page marked by folding it over, and you opened it.

“I am past scorching; not easily can thou scorch a scar.” You read out loud, and look up at him. “You read it before?” He nods his head.

“It was my kids favourite.” As soon as he says it your mouth drops open and the book in your hands feels like it’s on fire. You close it quickly and put it back on the stack, careful not to lose his place. Was.

“Jesus, Frank. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.” You bring your hand up to your mouth and bite your nails, unsure of where to go or what to say. He walks over to you, grabbing your hips and pulling you against him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I wouldn’t of brought you over if I wasn’t okay with you seeing.” He kisses the top of your head and you sigh, a little bit of sadness for him sticking to you like glue, but it makes you feel all warm inside knowing he wanted to share that with you. He pulls away and looks down at you, his eyes drawing lines up and down your body. “I like you in my clothes.”

“Get used to it. You tore my old ones.” Your eyes find his and he smiles. His hand comes under your chin and pulls you towards him, a light kiss brushing your lips and pulling away far too quickly.

“How you feelin’? Tired?” Shaking your head in his grip, he pulls you closer, and you suck in a breath when you feel him, hard and throbbing against your thigh. “Good. I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go now, okay?”

“I- okay.” You can feel the shift in the air just like you did in the gym, when he was underneath you. Thinking about that makes you remember just how naked you are under these pants, your underwear still in tatters in your pocket.

“I’m gonna cook you a nice meal.” You don’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. He leans down to kiss your jaw, and you feel his teeth brush against your skin lightly as he comes up to your ear. “After I’ve got you fed, your gonna get changed. Want you comfortable. Sound good?”

You swallow hard and nod.

“Yes.” The hand on your hip leaves the hem of your pants and travels up, his fingers finding your skin. Your eyes close against the contact, and you are reminded of how much of him is left to explore. He melted you back in the ring at the gym, but you wanted to feel him break like you did. You wanted to feel his mouth on your own - you haven’t had enough of the way he kisses you, how his lips are so soft even though every other part of him is hard. He draws little circles; tracing with his fingers aimless patterns, and you can feel their path. “Then what?”

He doesn’t say anything else, just kisses you again. You accept it gladly, with the hand on your back tightening and pulling you closer. His grip on your chin disappears and it finds your hair, now free from your ponytail, slightly tangled and falling around your face. In one swift movement he picks you up and your legs swing around him, tightening and pressing you both together.

He groans when he feels you against him, as wet as you were in the gym, and when you move your hips to grind against him he can’t control the way his body reacts, meeting you in the movement. Your hands reach into his hair again and he loves the way your fingers feel there, so soft and sweet and gentle.

“Distractin’ me.” He mumbles against your lips and you giggle, hearing him suck in a breath and drop his head. He walks with you still in his arms, around the island in the kitchen and sits you on the counter. Standing between your legs, he leans both hands on the outside of you.

“You don’t have to cook. I’m not hungry.” Your hands come up at grab his collar, pulling him into you.

The only thing that stops Frank from tearing into you right here, right now, is knowing how long he has waited for this.

The nights he’s spent in this fucking apartment with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of how well you’d take it. How the hands he took hits from all day would feel scratching at his back, drawing blood as you screamed his name. How you would feel, how you would sound when he drove into you, finally giving you what you would come to beg him for. He had a plan, and only years of training, mission after mission filled with hours of waiting for the right moment would prepare him for this, having to lean away from you and flick the fucking stove on. He had a plan, and he was sticking to it.

“Stay there.” He says, and you nod even though his back is to you.

“Yes, sir.” You can see the flex of his muscles as he reacts to the name, and you smile as he unconsciously reveals another thing about himself. “So, what’s on the menu in this master plan of yours? Smells good.”

“You’ll like it.” Your slump your posture as you watch him work, pulling small containers from a cupboard above his head.

“That’s not an answer.” He laughs over the sizzling in the pan and you roll your eyes. “I can just take you down again and force you to tell me.”

“What makes you think you could?” His voice is so deep you swear you can feel it underneath you, and you have to shift on the table and press your legs together.

“Did it once, didn’t I?” You let your mind drift back to the gym, how angry you were, laying punch after punch into him and how he just took it, how his eyes were hardly open when you flipped him over and held him down. You hear a sound come from Frank, but the loud sizzling in the pan doesn’t let you decipher what it is.

You watch him, kind of in awe. Here was this guy that you only ever saw beating the crap out of other people in the gym, this guy who taught you how to throw your body behind a punch, this army made man throwing spices and herbs in a pan, a tea towel over his shoulder as he creates something that definitely smells incredible, and you have no doubt it will taste the same.

He seems to be finishing up, you let him work in silence as he grabs two bowels and pulls out what you think is pasta from the pan, and layering it into a portion size. He brings the bowel over to you, turning around and handing you a fork. You go to grab it from him but he just shakes his head, holding it in front of you.

“You gonna tell me what it is yet?”

“What? You don’t trust me?” You roll your eyes and swirl the fork in the bowl, getting a large mouthful and putting it to your mouth.

You close your eyes and let the flavour melt in your mouth, and you recognise it instantly, although this is far better than when you make it. Your eyes flash open and you see Franks face in front of you, a smug smile on his face.

“See. Knew you’d like it.” You go to speak but his finger comes across your mouth. “Eat.” You roll your eyes and he hands you the bowl, leaning back on the opposite counter and eating his own. Swallowing, your fork is already in the bowl preparing for the next mouthful.

“This is fucking incredible, Frank. How’d you know I love this?” He looks at you with his head still tilted down.

“Wild guess. Fettuccine Alfredo’s a crowd favourite.” You shove another mouthful in.

“Well it is. You cook a lot?”

“Not so much anymore. S’Good to have someone to cook for.” That hint of sadness sticks you again, and you hate to think of him here by himself.

“I can help with that. I eat a lot; and I’m practically homeless right now, so.” He shakes his head again, smiling, and you fall into a comfortable silence, both of you enjoying the taste of Franks work.

He knew you’d love it. He could tell from all that time you’d come in the gym, some shitty protein bar and an half an energy drink in your hand that you don’t have time to cook, time to sit and enjoy a decent meal. He wanted to take care of you, and having you on his kitchen table, practically drooling over the food he just made with an entire night ahead of him, he couldn’t think of a better way to do it. He watched as you devoured the bowl, the metallic scratching of your fork signalling you were finished.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Seriously.” You hand him the bowl and he chucks it in the basin of the sink carelessly with his own, scooping you off the kitchen counter and sliding you onto the floor, the hard edge of the table digging into your back. You didn’t care as long as Frank kept this close to you. He leans down to your ear, the rise and fall of his chest closing the tiny gap.

“I can think of a few things I like more.” His voice rattled your bones, it was low and heavy, dripping with lust. He picked you up and your legs wrapped around him, one hand holding your weight and another picking up one of your bags, taking you down the end of the apartment towards his bedroom.

You would have snooped a little more had your eyes been able to drag away from his face. They were so dark, looking at you the same way he did in the ring just hours before. That look almost like he wasn’t in his right mind - it made your stomach flip and your core tighten. Throwing the bag against the bed, he leant in to your neck, pressing light kisses where your pulse betrayed your racing heart.

“Do you wanna shower?” The words aren’t inherently sexy, but the way he says them, breath drifting over the wetness his mouth had left, it made you shudder. You wanted this so badly you thought you might pass out if you didn’t have him right now, but the sweaty sports bra and track pants you were wearing had you feeling less than desirable - and you wanted no distractions other than him. You nodded, and Frank let you down slowly. Disappearing for a second, he brought back a towel and nodded his head towards the door in the back. “In there. I’ll bring the rest of your stuff in.”

He leaves. Part of you thought this was some elaborate plan to get you naked, but the bag next to your feet tells you otherwise. Fine. You can play the long game, too. 

Unzipping the bag, it’s impossible for you to miss. Bright red, placed neatly on top of your clothes, none of which are folded like the set of lingerie.

Shit.

Your knees nearly buckle at the thought of him, sifting through your drawer and imagining you in each and every pair. You can see the pieces of his brain falling into place, and it makes your heart sore, that maybe he had been waiting just as long, had been feeling the same things in every one of those training sessions when he held you a little longer than he needed to.

You move fast, swinging the door open to the bathroom and stripping off, taking what is hardly called a shower, doing the bare minimum to get rid of the sweat and whatever else you accumulated through your day. Within probably 2 minutes your out and dried, and you pick up the bright red set sitting on the counter. Your heart pounds as the fabric slips over your legs, and you try to remember how to breathe when you think about Frank, standing outside, knowing exactly what your putting on. You slide over a t shirt and shorts just for the purpose of making him take them off. You look at your face in the mirror and it slows you a bit - no makeup, hair still damp. You look a bit flat, but considering how Frank ate you out while you looked your literal worst after a workout, it doesn’t bother you as much as it usually does.

You open the door into him. He was waiting, like a predator, soft and stalking, you didn’t even hear him come back in the room. He looks at you up and down, and as nervous as his stance makes you, towering over you with his shoulders squared, hands coming out to pull your hips towards him, his face has that soft smile that makes you feel easy, and it settles your gut enough to speak.

“Any other surprises, Castle?” His head has dropped to look you up and down, and he finds your eyes behind his lashes.

“Sweet’art, you have no idea.” He picks you up and you drop whatever you were holding, maybe the towel, you don’t remember. All you can think about his hands are back on you, and you realised it was too long. Too long between touches, since his skin was on yours, you missed that fire only he ignites in you, even if it had only been a few moments.

He walks with you, your legs wrapped around him again, and you can feel him. How hard he is, and you realise he’s probably still hard from the gym. It had been at least two hours since then, and you suddenly feel a little mean. Your hands run down his shirt, stopping at the waistline of his shorts, but it’s only there for a second when he suddenly drops you on the bed, him standing above you at the edge. When you shift you can feel the crossed over bands of the bra he picked out for you run along your back, and you smile a little, and of course he catches it.

“What you smilin’ about?” He muses, admiring how perfect you look, spread out on his bed.

“I might have a surprise for you. Although, you might be able to guess what it is.” 

“Yeah? What’s that?” Frank isn’t thinking of anything, just you, smiling up at him, and for the second time today he thinks you look like a angel. 

“I can show you.” 

There it is. Frank nearly caves in at the sight of your shirt, sliding ever so slowly up your stomach and when he sees a tiny but of that bright red colour, he can’t believe he didn’t remember. His mouth literally waters at the sight, not just because of how goddamn sexy you look in it, tiny straps holding up the fabric, and the sheer lace reveals just a hint of whats underneath. What’s really getting him is that you knew. You knew he laid that shit out of you, and you knew he’d chosen it, just for him, and you wore it.

You wore it so fucking well.

He keeps watching as you sit up, giving him a perfect view above you as you slide the shorts down your legs. He feels his jaw twitch because he’s biting down so hard, but its when he sees the bottoms of that damn set, lace and straps more akin to fucking string that he loses composure, crawling on top of you, holding both your hands above your head in one of his own.

“Fuckin’ perfect. Knew you’d look so good.” He praises, kissing your neck, adding to what feels like the hundreds of marks he’s left on your body. When his face comes back to yours, forehead pressing into your own, you feel the heat of his compliment spreading across your cheeks. “Dont be embarrassed. Look so fuckin’ hot.”

“Good surprise?” You can’t help but feel shy under him, he was so sure of everything he did, and as good as he made you feel, you still struggled to look him in the eye when he replied.

“Best. Best one.” His lips find yours and suddenly the room spins. He moves slow, each of you melting into the simple pleasure of just being there, no time limit, no one waiting for either of you. His tongue flicks across your bottom lip and you let him in eagerly. He still holds your hands above your head, not allowing you to touch him like you want.

He was still wearing a fucking shirt. Your hands tug a little under his grip and he lets them free, instantly finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over both of your heads, and its then that you see the bruise.

It hadn’t come through before, but the evidence of how hard you were hitting him earlier has spread up his rib cage, and your lips tear away from his in a gasp.

“Frank! Your-” You dont have any words, guilt seeping in place of them.

Frank is staring at your face, searching it, trying to figure out what he did wrong when he follows your eye-line. There was definitely a bruise, purple and green in a small fist size circle right on the highpoint of his side. He leant up on his knees to get a better look at it, and you followed him up on your forearms, his weight keeping you down.

It was nothing compared what to what Frank was used to, and by the colour he knew it would go down in a couple of days, which disappointed him. He loved that you left that, left evidence of how pissed off you were - its exactly what he wanted, and the only reason he felt a tinge of regret was because the look on your face made him so.

“Hey! Its nothing. I’m used to it.” Your confusion is evident, the way your eyebrows come together on your face, but his hands straighten your chin to look at him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t.” He leans down and can’t help but kiss you. “Wanted you to, though.”

He keeps kissing you, fearing his confession will make you pull away, that you’ll tell him he’s sick in the head and to take you home. He feels one of your hands find his hair and pull gently, and when you moan into him as he presses you deeper, a weight comes off his shoulders as he realises your not going to leave him.

He feels your free hand come to the bruise on his ribcage, your gentle touch running over the slightly sensitive skin. He tries to keep a straight face while he kisses you, not wanting to scare you off, but when you press into the bruise with your thumb, he loses all composure and grinds into you, saying your name, no denying how much he fucking loves it.

“Doesn’t hurt, huh?” You say, and Frank just shakes his head, holding your wrist to where your hand lays against the bruise as he grinds into you again.

You are sweating. Its not hot in here, and you are almost naked but Frank makes you so unbelievably hot you cant help it. You knew you didn’t want to hurt him, like, badly. You knew that. But the way he said your name when you touched him on his ribcage, it had the same dripping lust that his face did when you hit him in the gym. He wanted you to mark him, make him yours, and like hell if you weren’t going to indulge whatever he wanted to do right now.

“You look beautiful.” He’d stopped kissing you and was letting his eyes run up and down your body, taking his time now that he didn’t have to look away. Didn’t have to hide how damn beautiful he thought you were. You just smiled up at him and your hands came up to his shoulders, forcing him down. 

“Need you, Frank.” God, Frank nearly collapsed on top of you. The plan. Right. He needs to stop staring, stop admiring, there was plenty of time for that later, but now - right now, he was going to give you everything you want and more, and he was going to enjoy it. 

“Alright, baby. You tell me if you wanna stop, okay? Just say the word.” You nod and kiss him, hard and fast. He gets the hint and laughs into the kiss. “Impatient. You gonna be good for me, like earlier?” You nod again and he pulls his head away, sitting up. 

You feel before you see his hands move, sliding up over your tummy and cupping your breasts, the soft lace rubbing against them makes you moan at the touch.

“Thought about you for so long. ‘Bout this, too.” He leans down and places a long, wet kiss to your left breast, leisurely licking and biting at the skin, and your back arches at every little nip. He presses his head into your sternum as he switches to the other side, hands replacing where his mouth no longer was.

“Shit, sh- feels good. How does-” He was just touching your skin, but it lit you up like a Christmas tree, feeling every single fibre of your being vibrate at his torment. He just hums against your skin, drawing another moan, and one of his hands come behind your arched back, finding the strap.

“As much as I love this on you...” He trails off as he unclips it with one hand, pulling it over your head. “Fuck.” You didn’t think your cheeks could go any redder, but when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and looks up at you, you feel like you are on fire. Your hips move against him, trying to get any friction on the part of you that is yearning for him, and his mouth comes off your breast to place soft kisses down your stomach.

He switches sides every time he moves lower, making sure every part of you gets the attention it deserves. He could spend hours kissing you like this, tracing every inch of your body with his tongue, hearing his name fall from your lips when he traces over a sensitive area. This was so unlike everything he had to do in every other part of his life - so full of ugly, painful shit he cant seem to escape, but here, with you underneath him, he’s never felt more at peace.

“Frank. P-Please.” You arch into him again and he hooks his fingers around the strings of your underwear. They were so goddamn small they disappeared in his hands, and his cock started leaking just at the fucking sight of it, how they dug into your skin a little, the soft curves of your hips practically begging him to take them off you. He slides the fabric down your legs, inching them slow enough to entice shivers to shoot up your spine.

He knows he’s been looking too long, but he wants this image in his head for the rest of his life - you panting, your body wet and glistening from his mouth, and your pussy even wetter, dripping down your thighs before he’s even touched you.

“Fucking perfect.” He mutters to himself, and he can’t help himself as he dives into you, hands and mouth working you how he knows you like it. 

“God! Frank I - Fuck!” Your hands find his hair and pull lightly - and he growls.

“Harder.” He says into you.

“W-what?” Eyes flutter open to find him looking up at you, like he always was.

“Pull harder. Know you can, sweetheart.” His words pull you towards your edge, and you shift a little to find a better grip and yank him into you. You aren’t thinking of anything but what he tells you to do, and how fast his tongue is flicking your clit, making you see stars. “Thats fuckin’ it. Good girl.”

You can feeling him moaning into your pussy, the vibrations against you only heightening the incredible feeling shooting down your legs and up your spine. You wont last much longer, and you pull harder and harder at Franks hair as your thighs start to shake. His free arm comes up around your leg and runs up and down your thigh.

“Relax. Just like before, yeah?” You nod at him and try to relax your body, something about him always makes you tense and fucking shakey, but his words and hands on you are overwhelming, and when his mouths returns to your clit you lose all grip on reality, your mind going blank as you cum on his tongue.

Again. 

“Fuck yes. Let me hear you.”

It seems like the drop lasts forever, the faster his mouth and fingers work you the more drawn out your orgasm, and your moaning his name over and over.

“Louder.”

“Frank!” You practically scream, no other thoughts in your head but him and how good he makes you feel.

He slows his movements only when your legs drop from their own weight and your hands can no longer keep their hold on him. 

When he tears his mouth from you he moves fast, coming up your body and kissing you on the mouth. You can taste yourself on him, and he sounds as out of breath as you are.

He will never get over how it feels to kiss you. His hands come under your back and he spins you so you both lay vertical on the bed. He’s on top of you again, but he can’t think, can’t say anything as both your hands come up to his chest and drag down, nails scraping slightly as they draw closer to his pants.

He watches your hands as they disappear into his shorts, and your hand finds him straight away, unable to control how his hips jerk into your grip. It feels better than his own; softer. Sweeter, somehow. Your thumb slides over his tip, using his pre-cum as lube to slide your hand along his length, and he has to grip the bed frame to keep from losing control and fucking your hand.

“Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy.” The hand not above you, holding onto the bed with enough strength you think it might crack, pulls his shorts down the rest of the way, and you lean up to kiss him while focusing on keeping a slow, steady pace on him. He feels fucking huge in your hand, but he’s making sounds every time your thumb brushes over his head and you need it so bad you think you might cry.

“Need you to fuck me, Frankie.”

“Yeah? Need it bad, huh?” You nod and he pulls your hand away from him, intertwining his own in yours, fingers fitting perfectly together. “Alright, baby. Always so good. So wet for me.” His hand paints slow lines up and down your slit at he lines himself up with you, the head of his cock replacing his fingers. He leans down to kiss your mouth, and he swallows your gasp as he slowly slides into you.

It was tight. Too fucking tight. Your eyes squeezed shut and every muscle in your body seized up. It had been so long since you’d actually been with someone, but Frank made you so fucking hot you thought it wouldn't matter. You feel like he’s splitting you open, pain and pleasure mixing in your brain. You were so desperate, head still in the clouds from Franks mouth that you start spewing out words before you can stop yourself.

“Fra-aaaa- fuck i’m s-sorryjesus christ - so big I-” Frank stops moving as soon as he feels you tense up, and he can’t even breath because he feels like he’s going to blow his load just at the sight of you so desperate to have him even if it hurts.

“Shh. Shhhh, I got you sweetheart.” He kisses you and you try to shift underneath him. “Stop.” You listen and stop wiggling, and instead you look up at him. “Good. Now don’t move.” You just nod, whimpering, nails digging into his shoulders as he dips his head and kisses your neck. He stays right there with you, giving you as much time as you need to adjust to him.

This was it. This was his plan, his fucking dream come true. He didn’t care if he wasn’t moving, didn’t care if he never did. All he wanted was to be here, inside of you where he could feel your little gasps and whimpers before he could hear them. You obeyed his every command, and it was so different to when he trained you, still seeing that fire he loved when you dug your fucking fingers into him and bit his shoulder, but you were sweet and yielding to him, and he was going to make it good for you.

“How you feelin’ baby?”

“M’good. Good.” Your face is buried in his shoulder but you can feel yourself relaxing, adjusting to him. He fits you so perfect, so right you can’t imagine being anywhere else but right here. He kisses your forehead.

“I’m gonna move, just a little, okay?” You nod and say his name and he slides in and out of you, his hips only slightly pushing back and then meeting yours again. Both of you moan, a chorus of pleasure filling the room.

“Dont st-stop.” You strangle out and he looks down, you catch him as strung out as you. He just nods and your fingers can feel the strong muscles under them flex and roll, as if it takes all of his strength to pull himself out of you. He draws back, just enough until his head stretches your entrance and then slides back in.

“Feels good, princess?” Your heart flutters at the name and your nails still scrape up and down his back, but you nod, bringing his face to yours again.

“So good. More.” You whisper into his mouth and he obliges, soft thrusts making your body tighten every time he fills you. 

“Greedy.” He grinds into you and continues his slow pace, kissing you with every breath. “You feel amazin’. Give you whatever your want.” His hand runs through your hair and you feel a drop of something wet on your hand. Pulling it from his back to above your face, you gasp, seeing a tiny speck of blood.

“Fucks- sor-”

“Dont. Please, don’t stop doing that.” His voice comes out broken and you hear a splinter from the bed head behind you, and it messes you up so bad that you just throw both arms around him and let your hands control their own movements. You don’t do anything to hurt him on purpose, instead finding a compromise and just doing whatever feels natural. Frank is fucking you so good that you can’t feel the tips of your fingers or how hard they scratch at him, but he shudders when they come back to him, and you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Does that feel good, Frank?” You try to keep your voice strong, but he just grinds into you again and picks up the pace. 

“S’ good. Too good.” 

“H- Oh, fuck!” Frank sinks into you and goes faster and its all so good, so much, that you cant hold your head up anymore, letting it drop into the pillows as your back arches into Franks chest, his arm coming underneath you to hold you close to him. “Dont stop, fucking hell.” 

“Taking me so well. Pussy’s fucking made for me.” He keeps slamming into you, and you hear something crack, the sound so far away you aren’t even sure if it was in the room. Frank pulls you up and before you know it you are straddling him, his pace never missing a beat.

The new position lets him hit you deeper, and you feel closer, both your bodies touching in every possible place - chests rising and falling in sync, lips connected and two strong arms moving you against him.

“M’gonna cum, Frank.” He swallows your words and you know he’s close too, your hands feeling the tightening of every muscle they scrape over. 

“Give it to me, princess. S’ good.” He mumbles in your ear and he just keeps driving into you - relentlessly. You can feel yourself about to fall, seconds between the build up and the aftermath when you feel Frank kiss below your ear and whisper to you.

“For me, come for me. For me.” You shatter, feeling every part of you spill and splinter over the top of him, the warmth of his own orgasm following as soon as you clenched around him. He moans your name, and you can hardly hear it over the way you scream his.

That was the sound that sent him over, that and the way your hand dug into his side, not realizing you were pressing on the bruise you left him. He fucking loved it, he could feel how scratched up his back was and he knew he was gonna feel it for days, see it for days, and the way you pushed and tugged at him as you came around him; there was no amount of training that could of held him back from following you. 

You were both exhausted, bodies heaving and hands unsteady. He keeps you on top of him and he goes to lay back, but rises back up. This makes you finally open your eyes, and you are greeted with the smiling face of Frank, his forehead against yours. You were both sweaty and gross but neither of you cared, and he stayed inside you as he put his mouth to yours again, both of you using it to ground yourselves back to reality. 

“How you feelin’?” His voice is gravelly, and your eyes flutter as he kisses your nose.

“Amazing.” He laughs and your chin drops to his shoulder. Thats when you see it. “Holy fuck.” He turns over to look where your looking, and then just shrugs and kisses you again.

The bed frame was caved in, broken splinters of wood falling against the pillow case as you kissed. Frank didn’t give a fuck, the bed was shit anyways, and he was just glad he moved you out of the way fast enough that it didn’t cave in on your head. Worked out in his favour anyways, because he got to watch you ride him as you came, and he would break it again if thats what he got. 

“Broke it?” You say between kisses.

“Fuck it. Buy a new one.” He says, and you are both finally melting back to your bodies, Frank slowly sliding out of you, and you miss it instantly. “You are gorgeous, you know that?” 

“So are you.” Blushing, you return his compliment and he laughs again. “But where are we gonna sleep?”

“Couch?” His eyes still aren’t open fully so you nod your head against his, knowing the couch will mean you can sleep closer to him. He reaches over to the floor and brings his shirt back up, sliding it over your head. “Like you in my clothes.”

“What about you?” You say as he lifts you off the broken bed and takes you out of the room.

“I sleep naked. That okay?” Your eyes widen at the prospect.

“Yes! I mean - yep. Whatever.” He laughs, falling on top of you on the couch. He slides behind you and you can feel every inch of him behind you. You are going to get no sleep tonight, and the idea makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“You are going to stay here, yeah?” The question surprises you, as it really should be you asking.

“If thats okay? I can totally find som-”

“No. Stay. Stay with me.” You nod and roll over on the small area of the couch, and his arm stays wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” He smiles, and you wish you could take a photo of how he looked right now. You can’t believe it took you this long to make a move, to pursue whatever this was between you both, but boy are you glad you had a shitty day today.

Frank was relieved. Relived to have someone else in this apartment, and fucking ecstatic that someone was you. As he watched your eyes close, lips parted slightly, he flicked his eyes over to his phone on the table. It was a shitty burner, but it had this little camera in the back, and he flipped it open, capturing you asleep in his arms, the first photo he’s ever taken on it

Eventually the two weeks you both spent in that apartment filled his phone with the most ridiculous photos, as well as some not so ridiculous, particularly featuring that red set of underwear. The fridge that used to be so plain was soon covered with photos of you, photos of him and you, some horrible quality and some looking like art, but it didn't matter. Nothing before mattered, because you turned his shitty apartment into a home, and for once it didn't feel so damn lonely.

[yslkook]

TiO (8)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook is a man of mystery and you take him on a date.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, a shitty relationship, unprotected sex (pls use protection, these two are being foolish) , some choking, grinding, making out, oral

word count: ~6.3k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. a big thank you to @cutechim for creating the texts for me lmao<33

***

Jungkook remains tight-lipped about what it was he had done over the weekend, when he had gone with Jin and Mina to a tattoo convention a few hours away. They had ended up staying the night there, and while Jungkook wanted to ask you to come with him, he wondered if it was too soon to ask. After all, you were both still enjoying each other’s company at your own sweet pace.

Eventually his little secret gets put on the back burner for the rest of the week. You were supposed to get bubble tea with him on Tuesday, but unfortunately a last minute work issue with your client and your application came up. You’d ended up working late, your eyes screaming in fatigue and went straight to bed that evening. He had understood, of course he did.

On Thursday, he was supposed to grab lunch with you at a cafe that he thought you might like, but this time it was him who had a conflict. His older sister had showed up to the tattoo parlor without any prior notice. She does this every so often, when things aren’t going well with her on again, off again shitty “boyfriend”.

Jungkook had sighed, cancelling on lunch with you to spend time with Jooyeon and comfort her with fried chicken and ice cream. You had sent an understanding thumbs up and a promise to call him later and end up having lunch with your work wife, Kira instead.

Kira who doesn’t fail to point out the glow in your cheeks and your general aura, even though it’s been nearly a week and a half since you saw Jungkook last. You roll your eyes and ignore the flames in your cheeks (and her laughter), and change the subject to your work projects. She tells you about some of the coding issues and compliance issues she’s been having with her software, and you tell her about the hours you’ve been pouring into your application for your client.

It doesn’t bother you that Jungkook hadn’t asked if you wanted to meet his sister. After all, he’d told you bits and pieces about her and her relationship. And in the last few weeks, your relationship has blossomed so beautifully. There was no reason to rush, you think. You’ll meet her hopefully under better circumstances for her.

Jungkook spends most of the evening with Jooyeon, letting her cry herself to sleep in his bed. His sister hardly ever cries like this, with sobs full of pain and hurt because of another man. But it’s been happening too much lately, too many fights and too much of Joo losing herself. It makes Jungkook see red more often than not. He knows what you’d say- that she needs him more than anything else and to not be so impulsive.

He makes sure Joo eats a warm meal before she falls asleep and he shoots you a text:

Jungkook: baby

You: hi

You: everything ok?

Jungkook: no, joo’s bf is a fkin asshole

Jungkook: she’s sleeping

Jungkook: miss u

You: im sorry baby :( can i call you?

He jumps at the chance, the sound of your voice and sight of your pretty face on video call instantly calming him. Jungkook is sure to wear a beanie to hide his surprise for you (but you don’t question it. After all, you’ve seen him in beanies plenty of times before and it’s dim in the apartment.) He moves to the couch, asking softly for you to tell him about your day. You recount every single detail from memory, shifting under your covers to tell him about how you had nearly stumbled down the stairs in front of your manager’s manager because you had missed a step.

It pulls a soft laugh from him.

“Jungkook,” You say quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jungkook sighs, “She’s just… Byung-woo and her have had this on and off thing for years now. He won’t commit to her and she just refuses to see him for what he is. Like, when it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it’s awful. I wish she’d fucking see it for herself. I don’t know what to do anymore, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmur, wishing you could hug him, “All you can do is be there for her but be honest with her. She’ll come around soon, hopefully. It’s hard to see past a shitty person sometimes, when all you want is for them to love you.”

“I hope so, too,” Jungkook says, “She’d love you, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Jungkook chuckles, “Maybe you can meet her someday. Under better circumstances, I mean.”

“Really? You want me to meet your older sister?” You ask softly, feeling a little flustered, “That’s serious.”

“I told you, baby,” Jungkook soothes, “I’m serious about you.”

“Yeah. Seriously crazy about me,” You giggle to yourself. You know if Jungkook was with you, he’d flick your forehead.

“It’s true,” He murmurs, “Maybe I can see you this weekend?”

“Yeah, you still have to show me what you did over the weekend! Take care of Jooyeon first,” You reply, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop stuff off, just tell me.”

“I will,” Jungkook promises, “Sleep well, I miss you.”

“Sleep well. I miss you.”

***

Jooyeon ends up leaving on Saturday morning after a lecture from Jungkook and with determined resolve in her eyes. You jump at the chance to take him out tonight, knowing how stressed he’s been the last few days.

You: be ready at 6:30 tn, im taking u out. and dress slutty

Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret your text when he reads it. He considers asking Mina and Mei what this means, but ultimately leaves it alone. Replying to your message with a quick thumbs up, he busies himself with getting ready to see you (and surprising you, finally after a full week of wanting to show you what he had done.)

Once you parallel park your car (which takes far too long than you’d like to admit), you grab the small bouquet of purple roses that you had gotten for Jungkook and text him saying that you’ll be up in a few minutes.

Taehyung had caught you struggling to parallel park, and had told Jungkook with a snicker. Which earned him a punch to the arm.

There wasn’t a particular reason that you had chosen to get purple roses for him, other than the fact that they reminded you of him. You hope he likes them.

Jungkook hears a soft knock at the door, and can already envision you behind it. He hopes you like his surprise, the one he’s been teasing you for a week about. You had given no hints of what you would be wearing- you had only sent him one selfie that didn’t give much of a hint into your outfit. He has no doubt that you’ll look gorgeous, but still.

Maybe Jungkook’s nerves shouldn’t be this intense, but he can’t help it. He swings the front door open, only to be greeted by you swaying on your feet with your hands held behind your back. His heart throbs when you pull your hands apart and present him with a beautiful bouquet of purple roses.

How ironic.

“Hello,” You say with a small smile, suddenly feeling a little shy and gasping when your eyes land on his hair, “Wow. You weren’t kidding…”

His hair is tied back into a ponytail, but it’s unmistakably elegant and so violet. Two neat pieces of his newly dyed hair fall into his face effortlessly, but then your gaze reaches the piercing on his left eyebrow. Your lips remain parted in surprise and without thinking, you reach up to touch his hair. It’s still soft, as it always is.

“Come in, baby,” Jungkook says, taking the roses from you, “You must really like me, huh? Got me flowers and everything?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, cheeks heating up, “Don’t get a big head.”

Jungkook only grins wolfishly at you and winks at you, eyes unashamedly glued to your ass. You roll your eyes, and swat his shoulder as you watch him put the rose in a vase and place it in the center of the dining table.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in his shared apartment (that he lives with Taehyung and Jimin in) but you somehow feel shy in his presence again, as if it was the first time. The first time you had been here with him had been the first time you had spent the night at his apartment several weeks ago, after a night out with your friends.

You let your gaze wander, curious eyes settling on the subtle matching of the furniture and the cleanliness of the apartment. There’s not a stray speck of dust in sight, but maybe you’re distracting yourself from addressing the pretty purple of his hair. Your mouth is dry, and you’re probably drooling a little. You wonder if Jungkook prepared for this, the same way you did (in that you had washed your car, cleaned every inch of it and gotten a new car freshener).

A faint scent of fresh laundry and lavender sits in the spaces of his home. It calms you and gives you the boost to turn your eyes to him.

“Thanks for the roses, baby,” Jungkook says, giving you a smile and starry eyes. He pulls you into his arms, your back against the counter. “Surprise. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” You mumble, brain deciding to short-circuit with the way he looks at you. His smile turns into a smirk, deciding to further render you speechless by pressing himself closer to you and cradling your neck. He’s careful not to touch your face. He doesn’t want to mess your makeup up terribly, at least not yet.

“I know you like my hair. Your face says it all, baby,” Jungkook continues and ducks his head for a quick kiss, “You’re pretty.” He does quite like this dress, light blue and dotted in small flowers with thin straps. His eyes are instantly drawn to the drawstring at the center of your chest and he quells the urge to pull at it.

Jungkook’s mouth waters when he sees the side split of the dress but you want more from him immediately, but he pulls away to your chagrin. Even with the simple kiss, the burgundy color of your lipstick stains his plump bottom lip.

You shiver. It appears that he tried to take your words via text to heart- to dress slutty. He’s wearing a loose animal print button up, with the top three buttons undone. It gives you a delectable view of his pecs, his collarbones and a hint of the tattoo on his right side. As if you weren’t already weak in the knees for him as it was, he wears a black coat and tight, leather pants.

Jungkook pulls it off, like he pulls everything off and the purple hair blends seamlessly with his look. Tonight, he’d opted for two silver hoops in each ear and a thin silver necklace to match.

Your knees are weak, they’ve been weak since you had seen him in this offensive outfit and his hair, his new piercing that was clearly an attack on your entire existence.

The purple hair. The piercing. He’ll be the death of you tonight, you know it. Your legs are wobbly, panties already probably a little wet just from seeing him and from a few of his kisses. But you can’t help it. Without thinking, you press your lips to his, drawing your tongue into his mouth eagerly. You are so hungry, so eager to devour him and drink up anything that he offers you. Jungkook tugs you closer to him lightly by your waist but-

“Seriously? Right in front of my dinner?” Comes an amused voice from behind Jungkook and you nearly screech at the familiar sound of Jimin’s voice.

“I- I didn’t-You-” You stammer, feeling your face heat up to a degree that it’s definitely never heated up to before. You hide behind Jungkook to fix your surely wrecked lipstick. You’re certain his own lips are probably comically smudged with your lipstick as well. “Sorry Jimin, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, we’ll leave-”

Jungkook only rolls his eyes at Jimin’s wide smirk and knowing eyes. He hears you scolding Jungkook for not telling him that anyone was home, to which he promptly responds “well, you didn’t ask!”

Despite the very natural and easy flow of conversation between you and Jungkook in your car, you still feel overheated and jumpy, your fingers incessantly tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not Jungkook, it’s you and your own nerves. It’s not the first time you’ve gone out to dinner with him and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve had him in your car. If Jungkook notices, he says nothing.

“Where are we going, baby?” Jungkook asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the road despite being at a red light.

“Umm, that place you mentioned the other day. The one we talked about trying together,” You say softly. Jungkook can only wonder why you’re a little quiet, but he thinks he knows. You slip into your head so easily and he doesn’t mind gently tugging you out of your thought cloud and into reality with him.

“Can you help me park,” You mumble sheepishly, “I get nervous parking in such tight spaces.”

“Yeah, pull over here before it’s impossible to,” Jungkook murmurs. You nod and do so, hopping out of the driver’s seat to switch places with him. But before you can get in the passenger’s seat, Jungkook grips your wrist loosely. You look at him curiously, with wide eyes and he drops a kiss to your lips, swallowing your surprise.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, “So fucking pretty, baby. I love this dress on you.” You preen at his praise, leaning forward for another kiss with a shy smile. He subtly squeezes your left tit before letting his hand travel downward.

“You look really good, Jungkook,” You murmur before he kisses you, “I-I really, really like it. A lot.”

He gently caresses your thigh from under your dress, the heat of his hand shooting straight up your core. Jungkook slips his tongue into your mouth quickly, coaxing your endearing nervousness away. As if you both aren’t pulled over to the side of the street where cars are passing you by (and surely wondering why you both were making out like this in public).

“Are we gonna be those people who have a roadside quickie,” You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder when you pull away.

“Roadside quickie? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jungkook says but his lips twist into a wicked smirk, “But hey, if you wanna give me road head, I’m not going to complain about it-”

“Ha, you would be so lucky,” You scoff, feeling your nerves beginning to ease out of you, “C’mon, our reservation is soon. And then we can talk about road head.”

Dinner goes perfectly and after a glass of wine you feel those inexplicable nerves wash away. What did you have to be nervous for anyway? It was Jungkook- Jungkook who you’ve known for years. Your friend before any of this. He asks you about work, how your application is going-

“Your client sounds pretty demanding,” Jungkook muses, “You keeping up with it okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even an application engineer so I’m just learning as I go. My true roots are data and data science but I get to see all of it. Which is cool. But also time consuming, like the other evening, I had to read up on the compliance regulations. But my favorite thing is creating modeling and programs for this app, it’s really cool because it’s healthcare specific. So I’m learning about that sector as well, it’s mostly python but we’ve been doing testing with different healthcare providers in the area and they’re all responding really well to it-” You’re rambling, you know it, but your passion for your career knows no bounds and Jungkook makes no move to stop you. He only smiles at you, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, gesturing for you to continue.

It’s funny. Not even a few months ago, you would have cut yourself off from your own rambling. In an attempt to convince yourself that the other person didn’t need to hear about it. Maybe that was Sora’s subconscious influence on you. Today, you don’t think twice about it, glowing and shimmering under the dim, blue lights of the restaurant as you tell Jungkook more about your job.

He makes your heart race and he’s sitting right in front of you. Your chin is in your hands as you listen to the pretty words slipping out of his lips. He’s so dreamy, and you struggle to not let your gaze stray from his eyes and linger on his exposed tattoos and chest. You don’t even know where to look, deciding to settle on the way his newly purple locks fall to his forehead just perfectly.

“What do you wanna eat for dessert?” You murmur, looking at the menu and cautiously allowing your foot to brush against his.

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming-

“You,” Jungkook says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Corny,” You roll your eyes, but nudge his foot again. You end up deciding on sharing a slice of decadent, chocolate mousse cake. Which Jungkook ends up finishing off when you satisfy your sweet tooth after a few big bites.

He leans over without a second thought, thumbing away stray cream from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb and he looks at you with wide eyes before grinning roguishly.

“Wanna get outta here, baby?”

“Should I take you home, Jungkook?” You ask, finding the courage somewhere in the remnants of the glass of wine currently evaporating from your system to take his hand in your lap once you’re both settled in your car.

“Do you want to take me home?” Jungkook asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“I have some wine I think you’d like at my place. I just got it,” You say a little breathlessly, “And I have to inspect something, I might need your help.” Jungkook laughs, a little derisively and you pout.

“You don’t have to bribe me with wine, baby. You know I would’ve been down regardless,” Jungkook says, squeezing your hand, “What do you need to inspect? Do you have a leak or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a leak alright,” You say under your breath, thinking about the growing wetness in your panties, “My man just showed up here with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing, looking like a damn model after one whole week. I have to inspect him.”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I would love to be your lab rat. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen the inside of your bedroom before-”

“Who said you’d get that far?”

“I already did, baby. Did you forget?” Jungkook’s smirk widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. He gently cups your face, thumb on your chin and hovers just over your lips. You think he’s about to kiss you, so you close your eyes in anticipation of his lips on yours.

But it never comes. Instead, his breath fans over your cheeks and he lets out a low laugh. “I sure didn’t forget, and I know you didn’t either.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, ignoring (but letting out a smile) when he chuckles. You decide to hold his hand for as much of the drive back home you can.

Jungkook’s hands are on your hips even as you’re fumbling with the keys to your front door. He’s a distraction, his warm heat plastered against your back and the simple act of opening your damn door feels like too much of a chore. When Jungkook’s lips glaze over the back of your neck, his fingers roaming your waist, it’s difficult for you to focus.

So Jungkook scoffs and turns the key for you. “Can’t open the door, baby?” Jungkook taunts and you level him with a glare.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself in front of my door!”

“You like it,” Jungkook says, shutting the door behind him and hugging you as you try to walk away from him to wash up. You escape his grip with a giggle and lock yourself in your bathroom, while Jungkook waits with a disgruntled pout.

When you come out, you head into the kitchen to pour out two glasses of wine and bring some snacks out. You’re not particularly hungry, though you wouldn’t mind eating and you’re sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind either.

Your train of thought is of course interrupted by the man himself and he wraps his arms around you from behind, pushing you into the counter. One might say that Jungkook is being clingy, but you know this is how he shows his affections. Through physical touch more than anything else. And you quite like it, you like the reassurance of his body close to yours. It’s what you’ve always wanted and never known that you needed.

“Missed you,” He breathes into your hair. Even if he’s been with you for the last few hours… You understand him. It feels like you’re both making up for lost time. For time that you could’ve spent together, rather than apart.

“Me too,” You murmur, “Can you take this to the couch, honey? I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.”

Jungkook hums and kisses your temple, squeezing your ass before heeding your soft demand. You sit next to him, thighs touching, and pour out a glass for both of you to enjoy. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his bicep and turn the television on. But neither of you are really paying attention.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs, “I had a good time tonight, baby.”

“Don’t I know it,” You say smugly, “It’s not everyday a pretty girl takes you out for din-” He cuts your words off by pulling you into his lap, somehow not spilling even a single drop of wine in the movement. You would’ve killed him if even a hint of a wine stain appeared on your velvet couch.

You press your hand into his shoulder, the hint of his tattoo and the glint of his piercing catching your eye. You swirl your glass of wine with your other hand. “What a precarious position to be in,” You say dryly, even grinding your hips into his playfully. He gives you a look, and stills your movements with one hand on your waist. Jungkook sets his glass on the coffee table behind you and cradles your neck, pulling you down for a sharp kiss. It’s almost desperate and needy, nothing like his kisses from before.

You slip your tongue into his honeyed mouth, tasting seeds of his desperation with your tongue. But then, you remember your wine glass and pull away from his lips with a lewd smack to reach behind you and place it on the coffee table as well.

“So pretty,” Jungkook moans, pushing the straps of your dress to the side and dotting your shoulders in wine-stained kisses, “Pretty girl, my pretty baby-”

You tilt his cheek towards you for a kiss, whining into his mouth at his praise. It shoots down your spine in a delicious hum and his hands roaming the expanse of your back makes you feel warm and powerful.

The way your hips move in time with his, the way you fit into the crevices of his thighs and his chest- he just wants to give you everything. He wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Jungkook will give you everything, if you let him.

“And what about you?” You rasp with swollen lips and wild eyes when you finally pull away. You press your fingers into the exposed, inky part of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned for your eyes. “You look so fucking good all the time, but-but I told you to dress slutty and you did this for me, huh? You did this for me, bunny?”

Jungkook’s cock jumps in his tight pants and his throat goes dry. Your eyes are devious, filled with mischief and sin and he gives himself to you fully and wholly.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods eagerly, “Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you, baby.”

“A-and your hair,” You mumble, feeling a little lovesick, “I love it, I love it, I love it-I just wanna- wanna make you feel good. Can I do that, bunny? Make you feel good?”

Jungkook nods with wide, doe eyes, wondering how the tables were turned so quickly.

“Take me to my bedroom,” You demand softly. The glasses of wine and snacks on the tray are left forgotten as Jungkook easily scoops you up in his arms. Even with your lips soft and slow against his neck, he somehow makes it to your bed.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve had Jungkook in your bed (or that you’ve been in his bed). It’s not the first time you’ve peeled his shirt off meticulously and licked your way down his chest, to unbutton his tight pants. It’s not the first time he’s seen you on your knees on your bed (to alleviate the strain on your knees if you were on the floor).

By now, the shock of your impatience has worn off. Jungkook frequently reminds you to slow down, that you both have nowhere to be except with each other.

It looks like his pants are glued to his legs, and while you can appreciate the visual, you want to appreciate the real thing. You groan in frustration and Jungkook does the work for you, pushing the offending fabric away and breathing a sigh of relief. You crawl closer to him, nails featherlight against his taut thighs.

He’s golden, his body taut and spilling with swirls of color in the divots of his muscles. Your mouth waters.

But Jungkook moves your hands away when you start inching closer, wanting to palm his cock. He joins you on the bed, pushing your back to the bed and hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips. His hands are tight and warm and welcome on your hips, a flare of desire shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy. You buck your hips up towards him with a pout but he only squeezes.

“What did I tell you,” Jungkook murmurs, swatting your thigh lightly.

“You’ll have to remind me,” You breathe.

“Told you to slow down, baby,” Jungkook says, letting his fingers trail up your thighs and slip under your panties. His hand is warm in contrast to the rings on his fingers. They do little to cool your skin, though. “Impatient girl.”

“You say that like a bad thing-”

“And you talk so fucking much,” Jungkook drawls, hovering over you and dropping his weight on top of you, nudging your cheek to kiss you. You reach upwards to thread your hands through his hair but he’s quick, so much quicker than you. Jungkook pins your wrists with just one hand, and the mere action, the mere display of strength has you sighing and your pussy fluttering.

“Lift your hips,” Jungkook says thickly, and you do so immediately. It’s easy for him to pull your black lace panties off to the side. But before he does so he gives you a small smile of approval, knowing that you wore them specifically for him to see.

“I really do love this dress, baby,” He says, “Makes your tits and your ass look amazing.”

“Take it off, then. And see the goods up close,” You say, wiggling against his grip.

“I will,” Jungkook says lazily, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” Without a single warning, he lifts you up easily into his lap. Your bare pussy brushes against his bare cock deliciously, your hips moving of their own accord. He stills you again, and carefully unzips your dress and pulls it off of you. His fingers on you are soft but firm, leaving your head spinning and hazy.

You haven’t even had his cock yet, and you’re about ready to combust. Jungkook pushes you on the bed, your tits bouncing with the force of your back hitting the mattress and hovers over you. You pull at his hair a little impatiently and he groans, the sound reverberating across the walls only to ring in your head. You want to hear it again, and again and again.

“Jungkook,” You whine, “Please, bunny, do something. Look at me, look at my pussy, come clean me up-”

“So needy,” Jungkook murmurs and ignores you in favor of kissing your tits, rubbing your nipples with his fingers, “‘M needy for you too, baby.”

“You’re so hard, so big,” You babble, “Please, want your cock, baby.”

Impatient. Jungkook kisses your chest, your belly, your hips and makes you cum on his tongue twice (while you tear up and cry a little bit, gripping his purple locks fiercely and holding onto his shoulder) before letting you stroke his cock. You’re about to push him on his back to blow him with determined eyes, but he stops you.

It appears he’s impatient too, and he wants to see you cream his cock before cumming all over your tits (which has become his favorite place to).

“Jungkook,” You breathe sharply, “There, baby, right there-” You cut yourself off with a groan, stilling your hips and pushing his face into your chest. Jungkook’s groans are muffled against your tits, but you feel the wetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue over your nipples.

“Shit,” You mumble, “Feels so good-”

“So pretty, baby,” Jungkook coos, pulling away from your tits to look up at you with lust in his eyes, “I’m yours, all yours-”

You groan, bouncing on his cock even harder as a flare of possessiveness flashes across your belly. “Move back,” You say softly, “Lay down. I’m gonna ride you so good, baby.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to catch his breath before your nails are on his chest, trying to hold yourself steady as you push yourself down onto his cock, pulling a deep moan of your name from his lips. His hands are tight on your hips, watching with wide eyes- he doesn’t know where to look, what to do.

He squeezes when one of your hands drifts over his and rests on top of his hand.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Jungkook mumbles, “Whatever you want baby, I’m yours-”

“You talk so much,” You say hoarsely, with a wicked smile, “It’s cute.” Your free hand floats upward, resting loosely at the base of his neck. His chain is cold against his heated skin but all he can focus on is the glide of your hand over his neck.

His cock twitches inside you and your smile widens. “Is this okay?” You whisper, “This okay, bunny?”

“Harder,” Jungkook groans, “Fuck, harder, baby.”

“Like this?” You ask innocently, closing your hand around the sensitive spots of his neck. His pretty eyes flutter as he nods, a quiet moan slipping out into the air.

“You’re pretty like this,” You say softly, “Shit, you’re pretty like this…”

He lets out a choked laugh at that. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his hastily. Jungkook thrusts upward, hips meeting your ass but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. Not just yet. You breathe into his mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft whimpers.

You wet your lips with a loud smack and cradle his cheek gently. Jungkook is mesmerized by the heat in your eyes, smoldering and burning through his skin. You let your fingers glide over your clit, gathering wetness and before Jungkook can ask what you're doing-

“Open,” You mumble hoarsely, “Open, bunny.”

Pushing a finger past his chapped lips, you gasp at the sight of him below you with your fingers in his mouth.

You could cum just from watching him. His tongue swirls over your finger before sucking lightly with a pretty flush covering his cheeks. Your eyes widen, another gasp brushing over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” You mumble dreamily, “You’re so good, bunny.”

Your body is burning, jaw slack and the feeling of Jungkook’s bare cock inside of you almost too much to handle. It was wildly irresponsible- he wasn’t wearing a condom and you weren’t on birth control, and it was a conversation for later. But you can’t think, not when it feels this good, not when you’ve had a taste of his cock in this way. Besides, he always pulls out just in time. But still, you both should know better.

“Oh, Jungkook,” You whine, “‘m close, I’m so fucking close, make me cum, bunny-”

“Baby,” Jungkook rasps, “My pretty baby looks so good on my cock like this. My smart, kind, b-beautiful girl, my angel-”

Tears prick your eyes- it’s easy for you to become overwhelmed like this. You tug your hands away and thread your fingers through his, dipping your head for a kiss.

“You like that, angel? You like being mine?” Jungkook murmurs, slowing your hips so he can take over. But he knows you’re close.

“Only yours,” You mumble. Jungkook pulls you into his chest swiftly and flips you so that you’re on your back. He places your legs over his shoulders and brackets your head with his forearms, his necklace just above your nose and his hair tickling your face. But you're mesmerized by the determination and adoration in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You murmur brokenly, “O-oh, y-yeah, baby, there, mmmf-” You squeeze his biceps with a gasp, watching his face closely. Pushing his hair behind his ears, you cradle his cheek and pull him down for a sweet, long kiss.

His fingers dance across your thighs and rub your clit in slow circles and murmuring soft words of praise in your ear. You’re vaguely aware that your body erupts in a tidal wave of flames, warming you from inside out. You don’t hear anything except for your cries of his name, you don’t see anything but him through your blurry eyes.

“Baby,” Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “O-open your mouth, baby. Fuck, baby, this pussy- I’m gonna cum, baby, fuck-”

You open your mouth with hooded eyes and your tongue lolling out and Jungkook pulls out of you abruptly with a series of curses. He’s not fast enough to get all of his cum in your mouth, some of it landing on your cheek. You swallow his cum with a dopey smile and open your arms for him to bury his face in your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook says breathlessly, rolling off of you and pulling you into his side, “This pussy’s gonna be the death of me. Where’d you learn to ride dick like that, huh?”

“I’ll never tell,” You mumble, “Gimme a kiss.”

And so he does, tasting himself on your lips. He kisses you nice and slow, just how you both like after a night like this. Eventually he cleans you up and you do the same for him.

Under the covers with only the shared warmth between your sheets to keep you company, you rest your head on Jungkook’s bicep and look up at him. Your fingers continue tracing patterns on his chest, tracing the swirls and curves of ink as they appear.

Jungkook dips his head to nudge your nose and you softly laugh as his hair falls into your face. “What are you thinking about, baby?” He murmurs, lazily draping an arm over you. By now, you’ve realized that Jungkook is possibly the most vulnerable with you in moments like this. When you’re both bare and basking in a post-sex haze.

That’s not to say that he’s not vulnerable at other times. But it’s just different like this.

You take his hand and thread your fingers through his. His fingers are bare, as you had taken his rings off and they’re currently sitting in your jewelry dish on your dresser.

“We just,” You murmur, “We spent so long being apart. When we should’ve been together. All because I…”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly but gently, “Don’t do that. You’re where you’re supposed to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“But we wasted so much time not being together because of me,” You mumble forlornly, feeling your throat getting a little dry, “Because I listened to Sora and didn’t-”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook says, pulling you in for a hug and a forehead kiss, “That’s not true at all. We’re together now, and we both had some growing to do. That’s what matters.”

“Okay,” You reply in a strained voice. You don’t quite sound like you believe him, and Jungkook makes a mental note of that. “Do you feel like… we have lost time to make up for?”

“Do you feel like that?” Jungkook counters, making your heart skip a beat, “Because I don’t. I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t beat yourself up for that. It’s in the past, baby. Forgive yourself. There’s nothing to race against, it’s just me and you.”

“I’ll try,” You say a little meekly. Jungkook nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss, one that has your toes curling and your belly flipping. He shifts so that you’re tucked into his side, surrounded by him and his hands on your skin. He kisses you until your previous thoughts don’t feel so loud in your head, he whispers to you and pulls sweet laughs from your throat until you can detach from the strange cloud that had suddenly appeared.

He’s your safe place.

*********

MoM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ULTRAANONYMOUSEY @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[johnsamericano]

Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.

Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!

warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.

“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”

“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.

“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”

You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.

Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.

“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”

Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.

“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”

Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.

“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”

“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”

“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”

“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”

“Doyoung...”

“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.

“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”

“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”

In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.

“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”

“What...?”

The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.

“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.

“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”

“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.

“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”

“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”

“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”

He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.

“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.

You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.

“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”

With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.

“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.

“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.

His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.

“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.

“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”

As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.

“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.

“How could you forget to wear protection?!”

“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”

You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.

“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.

“I don't know what I want to do.”

“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.

He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.

“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”

“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”

Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.

“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.

Jeno was the last person to find out.

“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.

“We have to tell you something.”

“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.

“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.

His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.

“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”

“You want me to say something?”

There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.

“I rather have a girl this time.”

“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.

“Try me.”

(...)

As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.

“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.

You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.

“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.

“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”

“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.

“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.

“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”

“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”

“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.

“The whole truth, Doyoung.”

There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.

“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.

“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”

“Rude much.”

“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.

“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.

“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”

[atzsslut]

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) : 

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff 

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn 

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago. 

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.  

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now. 

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan. 

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages. 

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets. 

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit. 

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer. 

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable. 

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker. 

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet. 

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug. 

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist. 

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car. 

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”  

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body. 

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off. 

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you. 

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul. 

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in. 

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned. 

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented. 

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you. 

“M’lady.” he offered, 

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.” 

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that. 

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard. 

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s. 

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now. 

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already. 

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big,  bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you. 

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside. 

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc. 

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’ 

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you. 

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact. 

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you. 

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home. 

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together. 

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up. 

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint. 

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point. 

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground. 

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest. 

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point. 

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning, 

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion. 

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?” 

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together? 

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen. 

Until now. 

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense. 

So, you took a small step forward. 

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask, 

“Who’s stopping you from asking?” 

[gyuluster]

the prince and the jackal | {f}

collab oneshot | fantasy! au | 11.8k words

“Because the prince of the earth can make you fall not only for nature, but the boy who rules over it.”

s u m m a r y : in the Kingdom of Terrae, you, a metalbender, believe in the deforestation to modernise the land. As a member of the Lumberjackals, you thrive on cutting down trees and stealing resources until you get caught by the Crown Prince, Choi Beomgyu, a lover and embodiment of the nature you wish to destroy. However, instead of imprisoning you for your crimes, Beomgyu decides to show you the beauty and wonders of nature, leaving you to doubt your beliefs, your identity, and your very feelings for the certain boy determined to change you for the better.

w a r n i n g s : prince! beomgyu, woodcutter! metalbender! reader, reader hates wildlife and all things nature, beomgyu is sunshine and flowers and everything good, shit ton of wildlife and fantasy stuff, bts kim line are part of the lumberjackals so are evil in this story i am so sorry y’all, beomgyu has a pet squirrel called jisung yes han jisung, kind of enemies to lovers not really but im pretending it is

p l a y l i s t : fairy of shampoo by txt | colours of the wind by judy kuhn | willow by taylor swift

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : yes i am back from the dead to bring this fic hello!! this is a collab with @soobmint​ @juunnies​ @bffsoobin​ @honeyju​ pls do read their parts too they’re so sexc <3 do lemme know what you all think and thank you for reading!!

back to collab masterlist

back to my masterlist

“And this prayer I make,               Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.”  — William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey, 1798.

“ONE MORE BLOODY TREE, AND I’LL SCREAM THIS FOREST DOWN!”

You ignored the complaints of your comrades, trekking deeper into the forest. 

The sun was nearly drowned out by the towering shade of the surrounding trees, and there remained a constant buzz of the animals, either scurrying away or chirping in the skies. The cut up logs strapped on your back was a huge burden, and slowed your steps as you trudged onto the muddied pathways, staining your boots.

“_____, how much longer until we go to the markets?” one of the men asked, exhaustion clear in his voice. 

“Just a few more logs, Tae,” one of the woodcutters, Seokjin, answered, casting a side-ways glance at you. 

“But we’ve already got so many!” the former whined, pointing to the goods over their shoulders. “We can make decent money today!”

Unsheathing your sword, you cut away at the vines in your path, masking your sight ahead. It must be here somewhere, you thought, eyes darting sharply to every flower and bush. It has to be.

“Haven’t you fools understood already?” a snarl resonated from the group. Your horse trotted past you as Namjoon, sat on top, brought out his machete, brutally slicing the branches of the towering trees. “The wood we’ve got won’t last us all year!”

His eyes blazed with a certain greed as he looked over you all. “We must find the Tree of Life,” he declared, strolling past you, cutting down the path. “One strip of its bark could bring us a fortune.”

You listened to his statements with raised brows, following in his steps. In truth, none of you had ever seen the Tree of Life. No one in the kingdom had for centuries — it had become something of a myth, a legend passed down from every earthbender to child of its origins, and its significance. You didn’t know the great specifics, but the whole group knew that if they were to obtain even a twig from the great tree, it could grant them millions worth of gold. 

And that was something the Lumberjackals desired more than the wellbeing of an omnipotent tree.

Soon, the search progressed, your group cutting down a few Ebonies for its useful properties, but there was no heavenly legend welcoming you in all its finery. The sun was descending on the horizon, and although Spring was present, you were situated in the part of the forest where the gusts of the Ice Kingdom blew consistently in your direction. The cold was about to descend, and you were far from your home in the Metallum villages. 

Taehyung, the youngest of the Kim brothers, held onto a nearby oak, all strength leaving him. “I don’t know about you, but I am not travelling any further.” He glared daggers at Namjoon, who showed no signs of stopping. “I’m setting camp here, and you can do nothing to stop me.”

Seokjin joined his youngest sibling, collapsing on the patch of grass beside the gathering of flowers as he shrugged off his work of the logs. “I vote a little rest, even if Joon does not understand its meaning.”

The said-man let out a scoff at those words. “You both are just bloody lazy!” He turned to you, eyes pinning you where you stood. “You’ll keep searching with me, right?”

You agreed, but when you saw the fatigue in your leader’s gaze you grabbed the reins from his horse, stepping beside him. “You need sleep, Joon,” you said, concern in your eyes. “I’ll do another search. You three stay here.”

Namjoon held your stare for a moment before swiping his leg over the back of the horse, jumping off. He handed you the reins fully. “Come back after dawn. Us three will take over from you.”

You had a right mind to challenge the amount of time he was making you explore, but you kept your mouth shut, heaving onto the animal. Dumping your logs of wood upon the ground, you dipped your head in farewell to the Kim brothers. “I will see you in the morning, boys.”

Taehyung waving excitedly as he set up camp, Seokjin going straight to bed upon his blankets, and Namjoon’s stare cold yet understanding, you cracked the reins as the horse began to gallop away from the oaklands, and deeper into the forest.

The moon barely lit the way as you delved deeper into the trees, the sounds of nature turning sinister as the owls began to hauntingly hoot, and the wildcats began to purr. You kept your sword close, in your hand as the other steadied your horse. 

You let out a hard sigh as you commenced your searching. Sometimes, only when you were alone, you wished that Namjoon would snap out of his delusions. There was no Tree of Life, no invaluable source of fortune which would challenge the earthbenders and start their industrialisation. In truth, you only wished for a life more than just cutting down wood, but your leader’s promises could be much too enticing. 

Perhaps he was right. Maybe with the metalisation of Regna Terrae the metalbenders would be able to progress. It was not like the Kingdom cared for the likes of you, nor the nature which brought you to existence.

Stupid, damned forest. What good had it ever done you?

Suddenly, you heard the harsh snapping of the twigs which wasn’t from your horse. In an instant you halted, pulling the reins as your eyes darted to every corner of the dark forest. 

Silence.

You furrowed your brows.

The forest cannot be trusted. Even its silences were sinister and misleading.

Slowly, you got off your horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. “Keep still, Aurum,” you whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Patting the mane, you turned and followed in the direction of where the sound was heard, every step quiet and cautious. There was little light, you having to rely on your ears alone, and the hands which touched trunk from trunk. In moments like these, you wished you possessed a more useful power than mere metal manipulation — firebending would have been nice, but you supposed that luck had never been in your favour.

Seething, you held onto your sword tighter, sending a little rush of power from your fingers as it sharpened the steel. No one tailing you would survive in your hands.

You then heard a little sigh, and whipped your head to the direction. Gritting your teeth, you rushed to the place of the origins, anger rising. Swiping away the branches in your path, your boots were the only sound among the quiet hush of the forest, along with the slicing of your weapon. Whoever was toying with you will not leave your wrath.

Swiping away the plants, you finally found an opening of grass among the trees. Squinting, your anger surged to find a distant figure standing before you, all masked in shadows from the lack of light within your surroundings. It stood statue-still, matching your deathly quietness. 

But the figure did not seem like it offered death. Nor anything so dangerous as you promised.

“Come out!” you shouted, taking a step forward. “I know you were following me!”

No response. 

“Scared, are you?!” Another hesitant step. “As you should be!”

Still, only silence answered, and the soft crunch of the leaves underneath your boots. You took a deep breath, shining your sword from the moonlight. A scoff emitted from you, nerves disappearing. This should be easy. 

With an aggravated roar, swinging your weapon, you thundered towards the figure. 

You rushed into the moonlight pooling onto the grass, eyes intent with damage as you willed iron-like power from your veins, and into your hands, swirling around the fuller of your sword until it reached its tip, ready to burst onto the figure.

It was then the shadows moved. 

A flick of his hand. A soft glow within the darkness. 

And all of nature followed suit.

You were taken aback as the thousands of vines circulating the surrounding trees unwrapped themselves from their trunks, and snapped towards you in thundering speed. You had no time to take in their stems swirling around your feet, cutting off your run towards this certain figure. A gasp escaping, you were pulled back by the impact, and let out a further scream as you began to fall flat on your face. Then, even more shock reverberated through you as your feet were pulled upwards, shooting your body up until you were suspended from a tree branch, your one foot wrapped tightly in the vines.

Your world all upside down, you shook your head vigorously, feeling the strain of your one leg under complete control of the tree. The thrum of powerful magic of nature resonated through your body, ceasing you from moving your free leg and kicking any potential passerbys. 

Craning your head backwards, you saw with horror that your sword was clattered upon the ground, too far away to reach from the air. Straining your hand towards the grass, you willed your magnetic force, trying to lure your weapon into your hand.

The sword would have ended up in your grasp if another surge of the same natural magic did not break its path, sending it back on the earth.

Enraged, you looked out to the dark, sight distorted. “Gods, just come out already!” you screamed, swinging slightly by your sheer force. “Stop hiding in the damned shadows!”

There was a flutter of little animals coming out from the shadows. “Ha!” you spat, reaching for the dark. “Only sending a few creatures to scare me? You’re going to have to work harder than that!”

When there was another round of silence, you laughed harshly to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

This time, however, you were not greeted by their usual, quiet answer.

More vines slithered down your frame, pushing your hands together. You gritted your teeth as the gnarly weeds tightened around your wrists, stopping yourself from using your hands.

Glaring daggers at the darkness ahead, you spat at the ground. “Show yourself!” you roared.

Your threats were answered.

Responded in an unimaginable way as the figure stepped into the moonlight.

You could not suppress your reaction.

The most enchanting boy you had ever seen revealed himself from the shadows. You could clearly see him from the light, the soft, child-like features amplified by his undoubted beauty — his mahogany locks curled around his face, cascading over his forehead. His gentle eyes promised great amusement, more so when they landed upon you, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. He was adorned in a fine green gown, few assortments strapped on his belt as leather boots, etched in ink, covered his feet. A crown of flowers and leaves settled in his curls, emitting its own, fantastical glow among the darkness.

The smile curved wider at your widened eyes. “Why so speechless now, my lady?” 

By all the gods. Even his voice sounded like the sweetest honey in all the hives. 

“I have come before you, now,” he continued, deeply amused by your bewilderment. “I have stopped hiding in those damned shadows, as you said.

“Where is your anger?”

Well, that seemed to bring your rage all back.

“It’s still here, you bastard!” you hissed, struggling in the rope-like vines as you tried to swipe your hand across his face. He merely took a step back, completely out of your range.

“Even without a weapon you are a force to be reckoned with,” the mysterious boy voiced out, raising his fingers as magic sparked from the tips. Instantly the vines encircled your arms, pinning them to your sides as the weeds wrapped around you completely. You were like a human-sized caterpillar, cocooned in vines except you would not turn into a butterfly and rush away into the forest. 

This nuisance before you would make sure of that.

A satisfied hum escaped him. “There we go,” he said. “Now you won’t be of any danger.”

“Who even are you?” you demanded, glaring daggers at the sight before you. Terrible shame that the sight was something you wouldn’t mind witnessing for the rest of your life. Even if it was upside down. 

A hint of surprise exposed upon his features. “Oh, this is amusing, indeed.”

He took a step towards you, you catching the faint scent of...flowers and trees and fruit and honey. You couldn’t really figure out a perfect essence — if nature had a scent, then this boy embodied it. “I am surprised you know not of me when you wish to destroy what I own.”

You raised a brow, at eye level with him, despite the loopy image. 

Then, the gears in your head turned, and you were struck hard with the realisation.

When you wish to destroy what I own.

“Oh gods,” you slipped out.

The boy smiled.

No, not just the boy.

The Prince of Regna Terrae — the heir to the Earth Kingdom. 

Choi Beomgyu.

Maybe this explained his otherworldly beauty. Crown princes of the earth kingdoms were known to be blessed by nature, so adorned the finest features known to man. Standing before you now, you cursed yourself for not seeing it before.

And cursed yourself again for cursing at him. Multiple times.

Beomgyu saw your eyes moving a mile a second and spluttered out a soft laugh, raising a finger so you focused on him. “I am glad you have figured out my identity. Now we both know what we are.”

His next words did not possess much hilarity. “I, a prince, and you, a Lumberjackal.”

The declaration had you gulping. There’s no escaping this.

He was not wrong in the slightest — you were a part of the Lumberjackals — a group dedicated to industrialising the Earth Kingdom, and giving it a head start from the other kingdoms who did not possess the natural resources that this land contained. You prided on deforestation, the cutting of wood and, even to a certain extent, the consumption of animals. Although you never participated in the last activity out of pure shame, you knew the Kim brothers certainly did, and enjoyed it to great extent. 

“Do you deny it?”

You tried to look away, but his gaze was a little too intense. Even if it was reversed. “I do not.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” he got out, and you could hear the pain in his voice. Could you even blame him? You destroyed what he held so dear.

Still. You were a metalbender. The desire for modernisation is in your very blood.

“I do what I must do, your Highness,” you grit out, struggling in your weedy cocoon. “It is the only way we survive. 

“And I will not stop.”

The boy’s eyes widened a fraction, in pure disbelief. He could not comprehend this — how could one be so against the idea of nature? How could anyone be so resolute in the decimation of what they survived on?

Prince Beomgyu cocked his head, pursing his lips. 

How could one hate a deity he considered so beautiful?

He said so himself. 

“How?”

You blinked. 

The boy continued. “How can you hate nature?”

His question took you by surprise — you did not really know the answer yourself. 

It was not like you despised the earth in all its natural form. Sure, it brought you the air you breathed, the food you ate, and the water you drank. But what else had nature given you?

You soured upon seeing the Prince’s face. You did not possess the powers other Terrae citizens were gifted with. Your branch of magic was hard, unforgiving. Simply a practicality, only useful for finding resources and making weapons.

Where were your subservient vines? Where was your natural greatness?

With this in mind, you mustered up the most brutal expression you could offer to the boy before you. 

“Because nature was not kind to the likes of me. So I shall not be kind to it either.”

This time, the Prince’s eyes widened even further, afraid they would pop right out of their sockets. 

Once again, his mind was in a twist — how had his dearest accomplice, his most cherished friend, been unforgiving to his subjects? He would never consider himself sheltered, but this was something quite unheard of in his kingdom.

“I know you do not believe me, but this is the only explanation I can offer.” You paused, accepting your fate. “Untie me already so you can send me to prison.”

You felt something swirl beneath the boy’s brown eyes, irises sparkling with wonderment. His voice was soft, if not lost within his own thoughts.

“I believe you, jackal,” he said. With a final step towards you, he left little distance between the two of you, eyes at level with yours as you hung from the tree. “But I cannot be satisfied with it.”

Another blink, taken aback by his declaration. “Well...well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

Shocking you further, he curled a little smile upon his lips. “Well,” he started, and as the smile began to widen further, he knew just what to do.

No, he was certainly not satisfied with her accepted hatred.

“We can start by changing that.”

It was your turn for your pupils to dilate. Gods above. This boy seems one chop away from a stump.

“What do you mean?” you demanded, but the boy was already turning on his heel, looking to the surroundings. He fell to his knees, feeling the ground beneath him with his hands. “Your Highness, what are you doing?!”

He did not deem to answer your question, only counter it with his own. “Do you have a horse nearby?”

You looked at him, surprised he figured it out by merely touching the grass. “Yes, but…”

It seemed that he did not need to hear any more, as he brought a hand out, fingers stretching. A tendril of green power burst from his palm, snaking through the dark air beyond your peripheral vision. The Prince was focused on his conjury, and you wondered what in Terrae he was trying to do.

Then, you heard a distant neighing, and found Aurum following the green trail of his magic, eyes glowing slightly.  

You tried to escape the tight cage of the vines. “Gods, what are you doing with my horse?!” you exclaimed. “She hates strangers!”

The magic disappeared, along with the glow in her eyes. You could tell she was confused at her surroundings, about to raise her hind legs at the boy who spelled her. “She’ll kill you!” you warned, bracing yourself to witness the death of a prince.

It was then Beomgyu stepped towards the horse, gaze sparkling with kindness. 

His hand touched Aurum’s face.

With no small amount of shock, you watched as the boy whispered to your horse, stroking her muzzle. You had never seen her be so friendly to any human she’s made contact with — by Terrae, she even deigned to show attitude to you, who had fed and groomed her since she was a mere pony. How was she sweetening up to someone she had just seen?

Maybe she’s still under a spell, you thought with malice, but then a more honest thought came to mind, and it only made you angrier. 

Or perhaps animals can be just as enchanted with him as humans can.

“What are you talking to her for?” you interrupted them, letting out an aggravated groan as the cocoon engulfed you tighter. “You’re sharing words with her as if she’d spread them!”

Beomgyu slid his eyes upward to you. “I was just asking Aurum if she’d like to have an apple.”

“No, I’ll give her one myself—” you tried to say, but then stopped short. “Wait. How do you know her name?”

He looked at you as if you had asked the most ridiculous question. “Because she just told me.”

You stopped struggling in the cocoon. “What did you just say? Aurum told you?”

Hands never ceasing his comforting upon the horse, he raised a quizzical brow. “Pardon me, jackal, but do you mean to tell me that you...you cannot talk to animals?”

Maybe you were not wrong to think the heir of the Earth Kingdom absolutely crazy. 

He gestured to the world around you both. “Can you not sense each and every creature nearby? Can you not hear their heartbeats, in sync to their purrs and murmurs?

“Can you not hear the very trees breathe around you?”

You did not know what to say. Perhaps you did not understand his words, what he really meant by a tree breathing. Was that even possible? You thought it unimaginable. 

So you offered him the only thing that remained in your mind.

“I have never felt these things.”

The hand upon Aurum’s nuzzle paused, unable to accept the statement which you offered him. 

His suspicions were confirmed. Your hatred of nature and all the beings which it birthed had rid you of your powers.

He had seen this before — lost souls who had done grave wrongdoings to the earth, and as a consequence, their very instincts were snatched, right down to the basics. There was no shortage of Lumberjackals in the palace dungeons, and upon closer inspection, he saw that these woodcutters felt no connection to their surroundings. It broke his heart seeing the lack of attachment, the lack of desire for exploration and yearning for their powers, but he knew it could not be helped. 

Whoever crosses nature would not be forgiven.

Still, when he inspected the confused, tired gaze of yours, searching him for any suspected lunacy, he just knew that he could not toss you in another old cell. This plan he had in mind could not occur through rotting in one place for the rest of your life. 

“Worry not then, jackal.” He raised his hand, magic blooming from his palm. “I am going to change that.”

Whispering to your horse, he listened for a soft neigh before heaving atop her back, hissing at the reins and other controls tying her down. You watched with slight fear. “W-wait a minute,” you started, trying to squeeze out of the vines, but with no luck. “You’re not going to just leave me here, are you?”

Patting Aurum’s mane, he voiced out calmly, “I wish with my whole heart, but then my plan will not work.” 

You pursed your lips, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief. “If you were not a prince, I would have cursed you.” 

With a flick of his hand, a rush of magic travelled to your cocoon; you felt yourself turning on your front, hovering you upright as the power gravitated you back on the ground, loosening the vines. 

“Not like that has stopped you before,” he merely countered as he observed you shrug off weeds in slight humiliation. “Now get on. We have somewhere to be.”

He waited a moment, sighing when you would not oblige. “Is something the matter?”

You wanted to say yes — gods, you wanted to scream at him to get off Aurum, leave you alone and let you cut trees in peace, but of course, that would be an impossible route to take. You still had no inkling of why the Prince of your kingdom was having mercy on you, and you would be quite the fool to exploit it foolishly.

With gritted teeth, you kept your complaints behind your tongue as you brought your foot on the stirrup, heaving upwards as you brought your leg to the other side, settling upon the horse. “Now,” Beomgyu began, looking over his shoulder. “There is no need to be shy. You may put your hands around me as the horse goes fast—”

“I shall be completely fine, thank you,” you interrupted him, brows furrowed. What was this prince even doing? You wondered whether he was a fraud. With that power you witnessed, though, you highly doubted it.

And his features. There is no way a commoner could possess such enchanting beauty.

Flustered, you soured even further. 

“Are you ready, jackal?”

You grunted out a yes, which was enough for the boy to command Aurum to start.

The horse, against your expectation, began galloping much faster, and with a yelp you were nearly sent flying out of the seat. Your hands, on instinct, wrapped around Beomgyu’s waist, and when you realised what you had done you cursed yourself for obliging him. 

You could almost hear his grin. “I told you!” he exclaimed over the noise of hooves clattering against the rocky mud. 

If only you could slap the heirs of kingdoms. “Just take me where you have in mind!” you barked back. “I need to be back to Metallum at dawn.”

“That will be just enough!” 

The horse swept past more trees, animals scurrying from your path as the moon lit the dim forest path. You held onto the prince for dear life, refusing to acknowledge the hard surface beneath his silk, his ethereal warmth radiating onto you. 

“Hey, jackal?”

A sigh. “Yes?” 

“Your horse’s name.” A pause. “Aurum.”

You looked to the trees whooshing past your vision. “What of it?”

Beomgyu whispered for the animal to slow down, scanning his surroundings for his destination. “’Gold’. A very ingenious name.” 

He glanced at your irritated face, and smiled. “My mare is called Argenti.”

Your mouth parted at the little revelation.

Argenti. Silver.

Before you could say more on the matter, the boy stopped the horse, cooing at her and praising her for helping him. Swinging his leg over, he jumped off the horse gracefully. He fixed his flower crown before turning to face you, falling rather awkwardly on the grass. 

A small laugh escaping him, you daggered him with your gaze as you stepped beside him, a hand on Aurum. Your stare lingered as he took a circle turn of the surroundings, moon almost winking at him as it journeyed in the blanket of night. After a while, Beomgyu pointed to the tree nearby you, stepping past you to palm its trunk. “Here we go.”

Fingers stretching, magic spluttered as it swirled into the thick expanse of the leaves, nearly covering the sky with their excess. The matter squeezed through, and brought out the hidden vines, tumbling down till they reached the roots. Grabbing onto the plants, the prince turned his head towards you, an offer in his eyes. 

You hated how you understood exactly what he meant. “I am not going up with you,” you retorted. 

“It’s my arms or the dungeon.”

Gulping, you swallowed down your irritation for him. Taking a step towards him, you maintained a safe distance as you made sure he was aware of your distaste. “Just get us up already.” Damn the gods for making him so aggravatingly beautiful, you thought shamelessly as you looked at him. “Your Highness.”

Perhaps he knew, for the little smile was back, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you close. “That’s more like it,” he murmured out before willing his magic into motion. 

Your breathing hitched as you were pulled rapidly upward by the vines, breaking through the surface of the leaves. You closed your eyes, feeling the scraping of the branches against your clothes until you felt yourself still, listening only to the deep breaths of the prince beside you. His hand was still snaked at your side.

“Open your eyes, jackal.”

Somehow, on instinct, you obliged. 

And widened them further.

You were in another world entirely — the branches expanded beyond your vision, intertwining with the others from different trees, so intricately interlinked beneath your feet that they created a floor. Upon this branching surface there was a little room, decorated with every unusual object that one could identify. Beside the bed, interwoven by these branches, you saw an abundance of flowers and leaves, an lamp of glowing fireflies resting in the corner, and a thousand other items which needed further explanation.

Judging by the awe on your face, the boy answered you, heading to the small cabinet where everything was placed. “A collection of gadgets,” he began, using his magic to separate every object. “That I’ve bought or been gifted since my princedom.” He took out a few unrecognisable things and strolled to the wardrobe, made from the same intertwining branches, and opened the doors, rummaging through.

“What are you even looking for?” you asked, but were dutifully ignored as he kept searching. You admired the intricate scenery, the plush excess of leaves beneath your shoes, shielding you and the prince nearby.

You heard him let out a satisfied ah! as he closed the doors shut. He walked over to you, showing you the rather odd object — it was an unusually large ice cube, miniscule snowflakes etched onto its every side as it orbited slowly in Beomgyu’s hand.

Your curious gaze upon the gadget had him into explanation. “A present from the Ice Prince,” he said, admiring the cold gift in his palms. “It provides an infinite water supply, so is incredibly useful for long journeys.”

“Taehyun, is he not called?” You shivered at the thought. “I am shocked to think he is capable of such small kindnesses.”

Beomgyu slid his eyes to yours. “Taehyun is not the man that his subjects have painted him to be.” His irises swirled in an indecipherable emotion. “Sometimes, one cannot judge the character of another simply based on rumour alone. Only with having conversation can one truly have an honest opinion.”

A small part of you wondered if he truly meant that for Taehyun, or to you, another villain in the Earth Kingdom’s millennia-old tale. Whatever it may be, you looked away, wondering when you’d be able to leave the prince’s presence. 

“Right,” you heard him say, pocketing the other unknown object in his breast pocket of his gown. “Let us go on ground once more.”

The boy was about to tug on the vines again when he was interrupted by a most unusual sound. 

Well, not unusual, considering you were situated in a tree house, but the noise was so shrill you instantly looked down to its origin.

Before you was a little squirrel, cheeks puffed as its little hands perched on its sides. Its soft tail moved rapidly behind its body, indicating irritation. 

Its small, black eyes were fixated upon the boy beside you. Letting out yet another squeak, you saw Beomgyu sigh out in exasperation, as if he had just remembered an important matter.

“Oh gods, I do apologise!” He exclaimed, falling to his knees as he held his free hand out, the other holding the hovering ice cube still. “I’m afraid I cannot feed you now, but would you be able to wait?”

The squirrel let out another squeak, and this time the prince flinched. You gawked at the scene — so not only can he command the trees, but he could talk to animals?

What can this boy not do?

“Ji, I am sorry!” Fishing out an acorn from his breast pocket, he offered it before him. “I have one, if it helps! I promise to feed you properly after I am done with a certain task.”

Even so, the animal seemed much unimpressed. It then turned its little head to you, and you could have sworn that its eyes judged your very soul. 

It squeaked some more, and this time Beomgyu widened his eyes, cheeks flushing. “By Mother Nature, no!” He bellowed out, panicked eyes fleeting towards you. “No, I just met her today.”

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, raising a brow. The squirrel then made another sound, one you could not decipher but, judging from the boy’s reaction, could definitely take a wild guess. “By gods, is this creature mocking me?”

You were rewarded with further squeaking, but was instantly silenced by Beomgyu. “Ji, no! I cannot have you being sarcastic tonight. Save your grievances for tomorrow morning!”

And as the prince scooped the squirrel in his hand, he walked over to the bed, settling it on the sheets. “Stay here. I will be back.”

There was sure to be complaints, but the boy kept sending looks of apology as he stepped back to the edge of the exit, tugging on the vines. “Deeply sorry for Jisung’s behaviour,” he said, swirling the cube slowly. “He is grumpier tonight as I have not fed him this evening.”

“A pet squirrel, huh?” You interrogated, looking down to the grass below. “And one you can talk to? Is that how you could communicate with Aurum?”

Nodding, the prince held his arm out. “Are we ready?”

You hurrying my shook your head. “Not again!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll slide down myself. Without your help.”

Shrugging, the boy held on tighter to the vine. “Your wish, jackal,” he said, and jumped down. Perking up, you squatted down to see him descend smoothly down the tree, landing perfectly on the grass. 

Grabbing onto the plant, you looked back to the grumpy pet, stuffing the acorn in his mouth. 

He then stuck his tongue out, and you gasped at the audacity. “Rude!” You shouted, but we’re only answered with shrill squeaking. Ignoring the creature, you took the vine by both hands, and followed suit.

Your descent was much less graceful, landing instead on your backside. You were met with the huffed laughter of the prince, and you forced down the urge to beat him with his stupid flower crown. Or perhaps tie these vines around his neck and strangle him.

No, that would only result in him using his silly magic. Awful, attractive bastard.

“What are we doing now, Highness?” You wondered out loud, rubbing your sore backside. “Do tell me there is some use of your rather odd ice cube.”

Beomgyu, after strolling further into the woods, slowed himself for you to catch up. “There is some use, unfortunately for you.” He waved you over, stepping past the wild bushes in his path. “Follow me, jackal!” he called out to you. 

Grudgingly, you did as he asked, hugging yourself from the cold breeze of the midnight, wondering where in Terrae he was trying to take you. The trees towered over you like intimidating strangers — if the prince spoke true, then you wouldtuly be unwelcome. 

You were surrounded by this coercion until the forest opened up to an open grassland, encircled by the nature which looked down at you. Beomgyu turned to you, bringing out a few seeds from his trouser pockets and standing right in the middle of the circle. 

“There you are,” he said as you stepped beside him. He glanced at the moon, measuring the amount of time he had left. 

“What are you going to do?” you asked him, still clueless regarding the whole situation. Why has he not sent you to the dungeons already?

His eyes travelled to your face. With a half-soft scoff, he held out his hand, the seeds now in perfect view. “It is not what I’m going to do,” he began. “It is what you are going to do.”

The confusion grew within you. “What do you mean?” you tried to clarify. “What am I to do with these seeds?”

Beomgyu’s eyes promised answers. “Bring out your hand, jackal.”

You did as you were told, holding out your hand as he put the seeds in your palm, fingers barely brushing against your skin. He then descended, knees upon the grass as he patted to the space beside you. “Come, sit.”

Pursing your lips in thought, you knelt before the grass, seeds in your enclosed fist as your gaze never strayed from the boy. “Your Highness—”

Magic oozing from his fingers interrupted your demand, slipping into the earth. Slowly, but surely, a small hole was separated by the green matter, dirt being shovelled to create a dip in the grassland. 

Once he ceased his conjuring, he jerked his head towards the new opening. “Place the seeds in the hole,” he instructed. “Gently now! Treat them with the utmost care.”

Grumbling in response, you leaned forward as you gingerly put each seed at the corners of the muddy dip, noticing a small spark with each placement of the grain. It was a bizarre feeling, but assumed it normal in the ways of gardening as you inserted the dirt over them, covering them fully.

You peered at the prince then, who brought out the large ice cube. Turning it rapidly, treacle of water dripped down to the ground, moistening the earth and feeding the seeds of its necessities. Putting the gadget back in his storage belt, he then returned his hand upon the damp mound, closing his eyes in a fixated peace. More magic swirled from his hands, but this time it encircled not only the place where you had placed the seeds, but you, all of you, engulfing you in its otherworldly warmth. 

“Your Highness?” You whispered out, but he was murmuring, murmuring words you could not comprehend, words which felt like you were not meant to hear. His curls were being lifted slightly with the tendrils of his power, but he stayed rooted to his spot, carrying on with what you feared was a grotesque ritual. 

You, too, became still when you felt fingers curl around your hand. 

On instinct you looked at him, eyes widening — you should have expected his hand to radiate some form of heat, considering this boy had such an unusual glow about him, but this…

Despite the soft chaos around the two of you, the touch was oddly comforting. 

His hand, dragging you out of your thoughts, led yours to the place you sowed the little grains of life, and spread apart your fingers till they covered nearly the entire, dug up earth. More matter escaped from his fingers, shooting further warmth upon the back of your hand, and travelling up to your heart. 

“Close your eyes, jackal,” you heard him chant from his cocoon of magic. “I need you to see from within.”

“See what?!” You beseeched, but his fingers held onto you a little tighter, and, as if he commanded your very body, had your eyelids descend shut, cornering you into the chambers of your mind.

See from within.

What could you see?

Darkness. Eternal darkness, and rusted iron, spilled mercury, and all the grim faces of the people who wanted to decimate the very place you knelt in.

I cannot see! You screamed in your mind, because in the whirlwind of his power you felt alone, trapped in your own mind, trying to join in on a ritual which would cursed the likes of you.

But in reality, you were not alone.

No, not when you felt something foreign in your body.

You swore you stopped breathing. 

Your fingers felt squeezed by another, but was ignored because you could see a whole other heartbeat which was not your own.

A familiar voice entered your mind.

“Do you see it?”

The prince’s voice; the soft, almost desperate inquiry, which you could not help but answer. 

“Yes...yes, by Terrae, I do see it.”

And perhaps he said some more, but you were not listening to his words. His speech seemed a little insignificant to the little heartbeat — it was as faint as the scent of departure, delicate as a snowflake, and as real as yourself, the prince, and the neverending forest.

When you tried to lift your hand, Beomgyu’s fingers halted you still. You could not believe that you did not mind it. “Whose...whose is it, your Highness?”

You were positive that he did not hear you with the lack of volume you let slide from your tongue. However, he answered your question, almost feeling the joy radiating from his response.

“The seeds.” 

Shocked, you opened your eyes, and found the Prince of Earth staring at you with an elevated joy. He gestured to observe your creation, and when your eyes fell upon the sliver of a stem which broke through the earth, between the spaces of your fingers, you wondered whether this was all a dream.

You could not help the curse which escaped you. The boy beside you spluttered into laughter, and you turned to see his face radiating with elation. The heartbeat, the one which you thought was under your control, proved you wrong as it skipped its beat along to his laughs.

“Wh-what are you laughing at?” You demanded, but you were unable to execute it with the anger you wish you held for him. He offered you a honeypot of smiles.

“You’ve brought life to the forest, sweet jackal.”

The little plant shivered in response, along with your own hairs at the back of your neck, which stood at his announcement. Its faint heartbeat grew louder, as well as your own in your ears.

“Do you feel it now?” he whispered, leaning ever so close as he looked to the forest around you. “Do you feel the trees breathing in your presence?” 

Unfortunately, although you could sense your plant’s essence, the heartbeats of every tree in the forest were still unheard. You shook your head no, but that did not wipe the grin off his face.

“We have time,” he reassured you. “Just know that Mother Nature has hope for you still.”

He took your hand, putting another upon the back as he brought you a different kind of warmth. “I have hope for you.”

You parted your mouth, unaccustomed to the contact, the kindness...to all that he represented. 

His eyes locked with yours, and although he had spared you the wrath of his palace dungeons, you feared whether you could escape the imprisonment of his gaze. 

There was no doubt in your mind as you let yourself be arrested into his stare — the Prince of the Earth was not going to haunt just a single night.

FRATERNISING WITH THE HEIR OF REGNA TERRAE WOULD BE THE DEATH OF YOU.

Of course, that was not the last time you saw him — you had become something of a personal project to him, a sin which must be reversed. Almost every night after the fateful encounter, you snuck out from the fences of the Metallum villages, barely evading the suspicious eyes of the Kim brothers, and met with him under his treehouse.

You did not know why you endeavoured so ardently in seeing him. It was not like he had become any less irritable with his amused grins and unmatched power, but there was something about him which you could not fend off. 

In a way, he made you believe you were worth more than simple woodcutting, selling oaks in the market, the empty promises of revenge against the Natural Kingdom. 

Somehow, he made you realise that, maybe, you truly were deserving of a more memorable path.

These very thoughts accompanied you as the sun began to set, pulling your hood over your head as you swept past the familiar trees, reining in the urge to greet every woodland creature which scurried past you. The past few weeks, after many misunderstood arguments with the Prince’s pet squirrel, you learned the slight quirks which the animal possessed, his every movement and what it would signify. You had Beomgyu to thank once again, but each time you wished to do so, he would say the same, hair-rising reassurance.

“Fret not, sweet jackal. It is a pleasure to show you the wonders of nature.”

Sweet jackal. The endearment made you so flustered, and that aggravated you to the greatest extent. You had already shared your name with the boy, but he insisted on calling you this name, as if the two of you had already established an intimacy from decades before. 

The very thought had your actual heartbeat racing.

You made sure to completely dismiss this foolery as you found the special opening of the grassland in sight, the glowing figure waving you over. A small smile involuntarily curled at your lips, hurrying closer till you fully saw Prince Beomgyu’s face clearly in the setting sun.

“You have arrived much earlier this evening,” he said in a way of greeting, fixing his flower crown as his squirrel played with the petals. “I would not say I’m displeased.”

On your part, you certainly were not either — he bore more finery than usual, his normal green gown threaded with gold swirls at the hems, small vines tied around his ears as natural jewellery. His hair was sprinkled with petals, a trait Jisung adored as he settled in the nest of his locks. His hands, too, were intertwined with dark vines, swirls wrapped around his fingers like extended rings. 

By the gods, he truly was an exquisite being. 

He noticed your silence, raising a groomed brow. “Is something the matter?” he asked, but when he saw your eyes dart to anywhere but his own, he immediately understood. You just managed to catch a satisfied quirk of his lips before he turned his attention to your plant. 

Following his trail, you brightened up to see your creation in full bloom — bright red poppies, stark against the pool of grass, stood as they swayed to the evening breeze. You knelt down to observe them closer, and felt a peculiar sense of pride at sensing their clear heartbeat harmonising with yours.

“They’re my favourite flower,” the boy said behind you. “I have always adored how they stand out amongst all the others.”

Watching the poppies almost dance in the cool air, you stood upwards once again. “Then why do you not wear them?” you asked out of curiosity.

“Because my parents do not like me wearing them.” He gestured to the flower crown, at risk of being torn up by Jisung. “They say the colour is too harsh.”

He clicked his tongue in irritation. “At least they could have spared me on my birthday.”

You were about to comment on his parents when those words escaped his mouth. Your own mouth parted in surprise. “Your birthday is today?”

The prince mocked being stabbed in the chest, nearly sending the squirrel to the trees. Taking Jisung from his hair, he propped him on his shoulder. “You have truly wounded me, ____!” he whined. “All this time together, and you had no inkling?”

Although he was only jesting, it only embarrassed you further. “I truly am sorry, your Highness!” you apologised, clasping your hands together. “If I had known, I would have made you a present.”

“Oh?” He took a step towards you. His eyes danced in mirth. “And what would you have made me?”

That seemed to rob you of your speech. “Well, um…” you trailed off, searching your now useless mind of any decent idea for a gift, but he waved off your fluster, chuckling.

“It is no problem, dear jackal,” he said, looking at the red flowers once more. “Seeing your poppies in full growth is a gift to me anyway.”

You wished he had not said that; glancing at them now, you could only hear his fascination within the petals. 

There he was again — staining your every entity of his remnants. How much more till he stains your very soul?

Jisung’s irritated squeak brought you back to the forest. You tried not to murder the damned creature as you muttered out, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Beomgyu groaned out. “I shan’t have you calling me that hideous title all the time.” He put a hand to his chest. “Have we not reached first name basis?”

Despite your surprise, you offered him a scoff. “Jackal is not my first name,” you jeered. “And please. You’re the prince of our land. Anyone who catches me being informal with you will surely have my head.”

“I would never let them,” he merely said. “Not before I show you one last part of the forest.”

You quirked a quizzical brow. “I think you’ve shown me half your kingdom by now.”

“But this is...quite different.” 

The boy stepped closer to you, reaching out his hand. You found yourself warming up as he enveloped it with yours, a gesture so small yet so triggering to your nerves. 

“Follow me, ____.”

With the tug of his fingers, you were led out of the grasslands and back into the jungles of Regna Terrae, catching familiar sights of ancient mahoganies and birches, different variations of trees all grouped together.

As the moon began to ascend, your anxiety increased. His hand worked wonders for your skin, but at the back of your mind, you could not shake off the image of the Kim brothers wondering where you had gone so long.

Especially Namjoon. Seokjin and Taehyung may have been much simpler in the brain, but the leader of the trio bore his suspicions of your whereabouts. He always knew you were never enthusiastic of your occupation as a Lumberjackal, so your sudden interest to roam the woodlands for hours into the night certainly had his ears perking. Of course, you always made sure to know that you were going without being followed, but in the end, the three brothers were quite unpredictable. 

You just hoped that whatever the prince had to show you, it would be seen quick enough to leave.

The density of the forest began to increase, and you soon began to doubt whether you had been to this part of the Kingdom before. It was then Beomgyu’s hands flowed with magic, and completely changed the scenery. The ancient trees, trunks as wide and thick as horses began to move apart to make way for him and you, the squirrel holding onto his shoulder tightly as it too squeaked in surprise. Your own eyes widened as each element of nature bent to his will, creating an easier path for his boots to step onto.

It was clearly a sight for admiration. These few weeks you had begun to realise the power of the earth, and how rich and true its roots lay. You felt the faint hum of their essences as you rushed past them, hand still clasped with his, and you dipped your head in thanks to the trees, hoping that one day you would hear them sing welcomes to you.

Slowing down, the group was barred by the curtain of thick vines, hiding you from the world behind. “I have never seen this before,” you wondered out loud, but when Beomgyu let go of your hand, and stepped forward, hands stretched out, your curiosity reigned further.

Jisung quickly scurried from his shoulder, ending up on the muddied path as he watched with black eyes of the phenomenon about to occur. You made to make fun of the squirrel when the prince let out an aggravated moan, hurling your head to his direction.

His heavenly voice chanted in a millennia old language, huge power emitting from his finger tips and swirling to the tumbling vines of the entrance. You could see the sweat beading down his forehead at the sheer effort it took, but he stayed rooted, sending surges of green matter to the cold nature.

Slowly, the curtain began to withdraw. Blinding light cut through, and when the boy let out a roar, pushing the whole family of vines apart you hid your head from the white bursting through. 

There was a deathly silence for a singular moment. 

You heard his ragged breathing, lasting for ten seconds before it turned into relieved, panted chuckling. 

Bringing your hand away from your face, you looked to see beyond the curtain. 

Your very breath was snatched from your lungs. 

Before you was the most enchanting deity of nature you had ever seen in your existence — it was a glowing white tree, trunk as wide as the two of you twice over, etched with milky-coloured wrinkles that contained sparkles of ancient magic. The leaves, much like finely cut diamonds, protruded from every branch which stretched towards every corner the eye could see. The diamonds were infinite, shining from the gentle light of the moon.

Even though you had never seen it before, you knew exactly what it was. 

“The Tree of Life.”

Your gaze dared to break away to see the prince for a second, whose own breathing seemed to have halted. Sensing your stare, he looked back at you, his face half glowing from the deity’s light.

“I...I thought it did not—” you tried to say, but of course you could not when it was right there before you, as if it had been waiting to be found all its life.

“Exist?” He took a step forward. “Every myth is borne from truth after all.”

Indeed it was — you had learned of the Tree of Life when you were a mere girl, listening to fairy tales before being told to sleep. This Tree could not be seen by the common man, and legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk. Evidently, no one could prove this theory, but its mystery had what inspired so many people, metal and earthbenders alike, to find it, for opposing reasons.

You knew why Namjoon wanted to find it — for the amount of gold a singular leaf could bring him. Now, having accused him of believing in fantasies, you almost felt ashamed for having ridiculed his searches. 

“Come.”

You perked up at the Prince’s voice. 

“You must get a closer look.”

Picking up the pace of your feet, you fell into step beside him as the two of you started towards the legend come to life. The closer you approached the more enchanting it looked — the leaves glistened further, as if greeting you with their shine. 

Jisung scurried between you both, his little head never straying from the Tree. It let out an awed squeak, and Beomgyu hummed in agreement. 

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” 

You shook your head, transfixed. “Never,” you responded, feeling the very earth shift beneath your feet.

If nothing else convinced you of the power of nature, then the existence of this deity certainly did.

You stepped past the boy, the grass hushed beneath your feet as you stretched out your hand. When your fingers touched the milky bark your breath shuddered out of you. It was simply unreal. The touch was surprisingly soft, so unlike the normal trees, and with each crack of the bark there was ancient writing inscripted within. With further shock you felt a very distant heartbeat as the fingers ran along the words, faint yet powerful.

By the gods. 

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” you whispered to the Tree, tracing the aged trunk. “Your Highness, is everything about the legend true?”

There was no response — you figured he was still star-struck, and you continued to admire the most beautiful force you had ever seen.

It was not until you heard Jisung’s shrill squeak that you turned around.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Because there he was, the one man you dreaded to see. The one man who held Beomgyu’s unconscious body in his hands as he dropped him upon the grass. You noticed the little dart on the side of his neck, and all the blood in your body was drained. 

Kim Namjoon.

His answering smirk was more a flash of teeth. “Do you believe me now, ____?” 

You backed up against the Tree, eyes darting to the prince. “What did you do to him?” you asked instead, voice void of any emotion.

“That does not matter,” he dismissed. “But of course, it would matter to you now that you’ve attached yourself to him.”

He took a step forward, his ebony machete glinting in the light of the phenomenon behind you. “Stand aside, girl. It is time to make our fortunes.”

On instinct, you stretched a hand out. “I cannot.”

The man was taken aback by your hesitance. “Whatever the gods do you mean?”

Gulping, you tried to steel your will, inhaling slowly. “I cannot let you do it, Namjoon.” Your eyes glanced at the still prince before glaring at the perpetrator. “You won’t get a single branch of the Tree.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, taking a step forward. “Oh, and you’re going to stop me?”

You brought out your own sword — the one which you promised to use on Beomgyu — and raised it toward him. “Do not come any further,” you warned. 

It seemed the man was not not going to compromise.

Not when he swung his machete, well on his way to hack you to pieces. 

You quickly brought your weapon upon you to deflect his aim, sending him forward, and away from the Tree.

He can try and hurt the Tree of Life.

Easily gaining step, Namjoon mustered his power, ebony sharpening from his fingers as he clashed against you, lightening-fast strikes of his machete having you strained. You never doubted the bastard’s swordsmanship — he was skilled enough to be a general in the King’s royal army.

A shame he chose his fighting for a darker purpose. 

You tried to slice the free space of his abdomen, but the man was sharp, quickly dodging as he swerved to the side, another clash of weapons ringing around the forest. 

“You cannot beat me, ____!” He roared, one hit after the other, sending you further back. 

Taking every hit, you stumbled, gaining your step yet staggering once again with his sword. After all, you could not outsmart the master; he was the man who taught you to fight.

Even so, you refused to give up. “I can die trying!” You seethed as he brought his strength down. His weapon, screeching against your own, slowly descended, closer and closer to your neck. 

A harsh groan escaping, you mustered all your strength into sending his machete aside, barely a spare second in your name before you whirled to your left, missing the power blow.

“All this for a bloody tree!” He screeched, thundering towards you. “We would have been rich, you fool!”

Another mighty hit, and you were sent back, averting his strikes with your sword. Because you were so exhausted, your magic would not burst from your hands, adding more power to your weapon. It was your melee strength, nearly all gone, and your nimble feet.

“What is all this for?!” He demanded, slicing at your cloak, cutting through the fabric of your trousers. The clash of weapons continued, faster and faster. “What is worth more than all the riches of the Kingdom?!”

Amidst the brawl, your eyes slipped to the figure before you. Distant, yet instantly recognisable with his eyes closed, and mouth parted, flower crown scattered around his head. Jisung, too, laid injured beside him, watching your fight with fear in his little eyes. 

What is all this for?

You only had one person in mind.

But that was not enough.

No, not when that sliver of a second gave Namjoon enough time to strike you, sending his machete straight into your stomach. 

A shuddered gasp escaped you as the machete entered through — a burst of pain shot through your entire body, echoing the fatality of your situation. Tears stung your eyes as you dropped your sword, looking at your opponent in the eyes.

The Leader of the Lumberjackals showed no mercy as he yanked out his weapon. 

A moan rushed past your lips as you fell to your knees, gripping your blood-gushing stomach. Namjoon gazed down at you with no remorse at all. “Perhaps he was not enough,” he said, cold as metal.

He stepped past you, focusing on the glistening Tree of Life, its white treasures still exalted in the moonlight. Your body, completely spent, could not hold you upright, falling straight into the grass. Straining, you cried out as you stretched your hand out in vain efforts to stop him, but it was simply no use.

You had been defeated.

And now, after witnessing the most perfect element of nature you had ever seen, you were to watch it be decimated.

This is how it ended. You, fumbling for your last breath, your prince nearby and probably dead.

Namjoon raked his eyes over the Tree, grinning wildly. “Oh, you are going to make me the richest man in the Kingdom,” he declared, raising his machete till it hovered just before the bottom of the trunk.

He elevated his voice so you could hear. “Enjoy watching me destroy what you sacrificed yourself for!”

Closing your eyes, you were about to let oblivion take over. 

You awaited the sound of his weapon against the bark.

What you heard was something completely different. 

An explosion filled your ears as white light, even more blinding than the one before, had you squeezing your eyes further shut. You made out the screams of your once leader as it was drowned out by the eruption, and you tried to see what had so suddenly occurred, only to be greeted with more brazen lights. 

What...what was going on?

When the deafening noise quietened, you picked up on the soft crunch of grass, edging closer and closer to you. A compelling force was felt against your dying soul, and you wondered if the Reaper had finally come to take you.

When you felt air-light hands on your abdomen, you did not expect death to be so warm.

Slowly, dragging open your eyes, you prepared yourself to be taken to the afterlife. 

What you saw instead was something else entirely.

Something which made even the Tree of Life as a mediocre enchantment.

Looking over you was not human — not with the glowing, shimmering skin, sparkles and shine radiating off its golden, liquid body. Her eyes were white with the same light you had seen twice this evening, fluid locks of hair flowing all around her. Her lips offered a radiant smile, already bringing some life back into you, and her whole body, although similar to yours, was free of attire, exuding the light of a star. 

Perhaps you truly were dead. 

The being, however, proved you wrong with her words.

“Brave human,” she began, and her velvet voice had you clutching your stomach. “I saw what you did to defend me.”

You tried to open your mouth to tell her that you defended the Tree, but then your eyes dilated at the revelation. 

The legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk.

But this...this god-like creature was not just a mere girl.

“You sacrificed yourself for my Tree,” she stated, voice echoing across the woodlands. “For my forest, my every creation, despite being an enemy of mine in the past.

“You deserve a token of my gratitude.”

Her voice nearly put you to sleep with the way it lulled in the midnight air. You wondered in your tired mind what she could offer you now that you were breathing your last breath.

Then, you felt her hands upon your stomach.

A loud groan escaped your lips as the torn flesh began to stitch on its own accord, courtesy of the magic which poured from the sublime being. Your whole body worked to heal you, reversing the damage done by your once leader, whose whereabouts you had no inkling of. 

The pain, which once tore at every nerve within you, began to fade away, and you opened your eyes further after gaining the strength, fully taking in the earthly spirit which had restored you. 

You parted your mouth, voice parched as you rasped out, “I...Beomgyu…”

A heavenly smile curled at her lips. “The prince is fine, soldier. It would take more than a dart to eliminate the heir of the Earth.”

A relieved breath left your lips. You then looked to the being, putting your hands above hers. “I am not who I was,” you whispered.

Mother Nature smiled down at you, and you knew then and there that perhaps the world is not so cruel after all.

“I know, brave human.”

The luminous creature ascended to her feet, letting go of your hands. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, and turned on her heel. Struggling to your side, you watched as the otherworldly figure stepped up to the Tree of Life, looking at you one last time.

Raising a hand to her chin, she blew some magic towards your way, bathing you in sparkles. With a final beam, she slipped into the tree, enlivening the whole structure till it stood straight once again.

You truly could not believe what you saw.

Feeling the glimmer dancing on your skin, however, you knew this was not a figment of your imagination.

Mother Nature saved you from death.

Truly, utterly, ethereal. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard soft coughing nearby, and you heaved upward at the sound, your strength all present.

Beomgyu.

Upon your feet, you rushed to where he lay, stumbling from the hurrying as you fell to your knees, hands clinging onto his face. Jisung, his injuries healed from the celestial visit, scurried upon his owner’s chest, waiting for him to awaken.

“Beomgyu?” You murmured out, fingers stroking the soft planes of his cheeks. “Beomgyu, damn you, open your eyes!”

Tilting his face till it faced you, you watched as the prince’s eyes fluttered open, tired and wide and absolutely beautiful.

A trembling breath gasped out of you. “What…” he grated out, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “What just...happened?”

You willed the tears in as you caressed his face. “The legend was true.”

His confused gaze had you continuing. “Beomgyu, I saw the celestial creature when I was dying, and she saved me. It was true, Beomgyu, she healed me with her hands and—”

Your rambling ceased when the boy brought his fingers to your face. Warmth flooded your cheeks, and not because of how hot his hands were.

His smile could have easily beaten Mother Nature’s. 

“You called me Beomgyu.”

He did not let you respond as he brought your face down to his, tilting it slightly as he pressed his lips against yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss. 

His mouth was warm, just like him, soft and plush, rendering you helpless over him. Your shock was quite prevalent, but you let the affection take over as you kissed him back, hands carding in his curls. He moved against your lips as his fingers stroked down to your jaw, savouring every feathered touch.

When he broke away, his breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed. He saw your own dishevelled gaze and chuckled to himself. 

“I think this might be the best birthday present I have ever received.”

The Prince of Regna Terrae laughed some more when you refused to meet his eyes.

You were about to counter him when you heard another, completely new voice. 

“You both could have done that without me being here.”

Your stare dove to his chest, to the direction of the sound.

Jisung the squirrel glared at you with the entire irritation of the Kingdom. “Oh what? So now you can hear me?!”

A yelp resounded from you. “How are you talking?!” You screeched. “You’re a bloody animal!”

“Oh, thank you so very much for stating the blatantly obvious!” He drawled, and you could not comprehend the sarcasm that just came from a bloody woodland creature.

You peered at Beomgyu, who was just as surprised as you were, despite his entertained features. “____,” he started, sitting up straighter. “Does this mean—”

Getting to your feet, you looked around the forest, the Tree of Life standing proudly. 

It was then you sensed the heartbeat.

Not just your own, or the poppies — but of the entirety of the Kingdom.

Faraway, yet still present, it thumped against your chest like an echo of your own heart, a harmonisation of all the trees, bushes, flowers and animals. It was almost enchanting how it slowly thudded within you, and with such welcome. 

Like greeting a friend you had not seen for a long time. 

When you caught the Prince’s gaze, his entire face lit up. 

Before you could say anymore, you were swept into the boy’s arms, engulfing you with a hug of eternal warmth. His voice rang along your soul as he declared to the whole word.

“Nature has accepted you, ____!”

You heard the clicked tongue of Jisung beneath you, and Beomgyu brought you at arm’s length before sticking out his tongue at his pet. 

He looked to you once more, and saw the very emotions you dared not let yourself believe in.

“I knew you were capable of change, sweet jackal.”

The tears, this time, refused to be held back any longer. 

The boy melted as he swept away each tumbling drop with his fingers, clutching your face. 

As you leaned in this time, kissing him breathlessly, you tasted the smile which flourished upon his lips, drinking in your every essence. 

You wondered, thinking away as your heart beat faster, whether this was still a dream, a vision which would end the moment you woke up, back in the cold village you once called your home. 

When you felt the presence of the celestial being again, looking down from the branches of the Tree of Life, you knew that this was no delusion.

Pulling away, you turned Beomgyu to the glistening, living structure, both of you catching sight of her.

Mother Nature smiled at her heirs.

The both of you knew it in your hearts, simultaneously beating. 

The heirs of Regna Terrae would not let her down. 

[laurelier]

HS x The Little Mermaid: Harriel? Arielrry?? Either way we're all a little bit gay aren’t we.

OR: my humble contribution to the mermaidrry spiral. Get outta here and go read @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk​​ birth of harry mermaidy analysis if you actually want to learn something today, that shit's genius boss level connections all over the place. Keep reading this wordvom if you wanna just like. Feel a little bit weird about The Little Mermaid with me for a hot minute? Idk man I'm just spouting crap about water in my corner again that's all I do.

Anyway the thing you gotta know before you read this post is. I love the OG 2D animated Disney princess movies. I love em. I do. I really do and I really hate to admit it, it is really not easy for me to be outing myself like this right now, but I do, I love them, with my wholass heart I’m such a big fan. I think they’re beautiful in a lot a lot a lot of ways and I find them really fascinating as, like, pop culture mainstays, leave me alone, I just, The Little Mermaid. The Little Mermaid, friends. I am here today to soliloquize to you about the gospel of The Little Mermaid in the context of Harry Styles if you can spare a few moments of your time.

The Little Mermaid is one of the original princess narratives that really actually—I go hard for this take—stands up well to cultural critique. Personally I think some of the others do also, but this one? Watching this 15 or so years after I’d first seen it and then reading up on it…… spending far too much time, actually, reading up on it……… as I did a few months ago when I regressed back into my Disney princess hole, man, wow. My little brain was blown open about 150 different ways.

x, LOOK at that animation are you JOKING

How this post came about is a tale as old as time at this point: I asked the aforementioned beautiful Ella @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk​​ about their reaction to Harry’s perfect FL trans-flag-colors outfit moment that absolutely turned me into a ball of just hnnnnngngngngnngng fetal position in the corner god that look made me so emotional and in their (fantastic as always) response, link here, they brought up those Harriel pics from SNL and also hi bb Ariel down there in the corner, and just. Their answer to that ask had a big time ripple effect and we all freaked the fuck out about mermaids and I don't know bro, just have one more tangent about The Little Mermaid and mermaiding and Harry and Harrymermaiding and water waterwaterwater. But do be sure to read Ella’s first. Also have this shitpost?

Light of my life harriel. Art by the magnificent @swimmingleo​​ .

Under the cut: today we’re talking transformation and voicelessness and deals with the (kind of) devil, we’re talking appearances and self-knowledge and slivers of hope, we’re talking siren calls, we’re talking when you know you know, we’re sonar mapping the unexplored ocean floors of the self. Clearly there’s gonna be plenty of melodrama to go around so strap on your mermaid tails, let’s dive undaaathaaseeeeeaaa. (Again.)

--

“Silence itself—the things one declines to say, or is forbidden to name, the discretion that is required between different speakers—is less the absolute limit of discourse, the other side from which it is separated by a strict boundary, than an element that functions alongside the things said, with them and in relation to them.... There is not one but many silences, and they are an integral part of the strategies that underlie and permeate discourses.” - Foucault, The History of Sexuality

--

Nice to meet u mermaidrry

When asked in 2014 why he got his mermaid tattoo, Harry E. Styles reportedly gave a very simple reply: “I am a mermaid.” Which…... is one of my favorite things he’s ever said. Especially because Ella’s post has been circulating for a while now, I doubt I have to inform anyone reading this of how linked the symbol of the mermaid often is with experiences of gender diversity and gender queerness—the mermaid as a symbol especially important to many trans women, not least because she’s so heavily associated with transformation. Ariel herself, and Hans Christian Andersen’s original little mermaid before her, have both played a hand (fin?) in the development of this lovely, lovely, very nuanced link.

I’m not really going to get too in the weeds now, though, about the mermaid as a big time symbol of a transgender experience, because I’m here to talk about The Little Mermaid specifically, and Harry. And before I get into it: I’m hopeful that the fact that I’m seeing a whole lot of really really beautiful gender stuff here doesn’t read as me making assumptions about Harry’s motives or identity that I can’t and shouldn’t make—though that’s also certainly not meant to invalidate him or assume, either, that he couldn’t be purposely engaging with gender when he refs mermaids—I’m just. We gotta remember we don’t know, I don’t know, none of us will probably ever know what exactly he means and when he means it and how, and all I’m doing here is using H and Ariel and mermaids to explore a very queer little bubble that I find really captivating. Not speaking for, never speaking for; speaking about, seeing through, and also just. Standing in awe of. H, and all that he creates around him.

WHEw wee. All that out of the way……...

Harry and watery shit

……….let’s start by talking (yet again) about the fact that Harry is always drenched in water. Babymermaid is literally so wet all of the time. This is not a new idea, of course, he’s been waving this one in our faces for so many years now, but I want to highlight a few favorite examples that I think show especially well how closely interlinked H being wet/referencing water seems to be with self-exploration. 

Ella, once again, has a more comprehensive list of times Harry was wet in their post, and all of these are also mentioned there. This is my personal watery Harrymermaid highlight reel, though, and there are some things that come up here that are going to be relevant later, so we’re gonna rehash this for a second. K roll the tape.

First, the HS1 album photoshoot. Just….. All of it. This was one of the first big visual impressions we got of Harry as a solo artist and—water. Everywhere. The water, right, is also opaque and pink in a lot of this—so let me just take this opportunity to float the rainbow water theory again: if being in water equals being one’s full self in H world, with all the simultaneous pain and relief of that, then I wonder if rainbow or pink/contaminated water doesn't equal difficulty accessing that real, complex person, buried underneath onion layers of shame and repression and time—and, because it’s pretty too, if it’s not also a representation of the beauty of the efforts that we make to access our deepest selves despite all that might hold us back beautiful war connection opportunity here cry cry cry bc pink water is associated with waste runoff from battles and war. Pair all that with the way so many of us read the album’s content and idk man even I almost believe myself here. 

These colors......... bury me in them.

Second, Fine Line era—first up is the Lights Up music video. In this one, there’s obviously the shot of him in the FL silhouette of big pants unbuttoned shirt suspenders just like. Staring into the mirror soaking wet. And the one of him looking down at us in the water with the sun coming over his shoulder. 

But, real quick, I wanna talk about those red shots where he’s kind of mirrored, looking down from above at himself floating submerged. Eerie, strange, fragmented: an H in a beautiful suit suspended and frozen above a vulnerable-looking H floating in water; H staring down at this other self that appears to be him, too, but a little bit different, significantly different, staring back up at him. And a shadow between them that serves as a dividing (fine?) line: his own shadow, reflected on the water exactly halfway between them. Jesus there’s so much in this damn frame. There are a lot of Harrys here. All of them quite wet.

Earlier, H in darker clothes, floating prone and vulnerable in the water. 

Then, third, a pairing I love, two of my favorite songs from Fine Line—though really I could say that about any of the songs on that album ffs—She and Adore You. In She, right, we've got the famous he takes a boat out, imagines just sailing away / away, away / without telling his mates; / he wouldn’t know what to say, right, and then in the Adore You mv, almost immediately after letting the fish swim free, the peculiar boy does………. exactly that? He takes a boat out, the sails filled by his screams of anguish from earlier at not being seen or understood by the other townspeople, which he trapped in jars (hgngng that part always makes me so soft).

I mean. This parallel lays my ass out. He said like lemme just drop these dam kids off at school right quick byeeeeeee honey have a great day and then I’m about to go solo deep sea fishing for my soul. 

And at the very, very, very end of this treasure of a music video, we get the frame above, where we can see just the hint of a friendly-looking little sea creature jumping in and out of the waves. My guess? Really, who could that be but the fish—so lemme just get real Frankenstein here for a sec and suggest that the boy and the fish represent a kind of split-in-half mermaid, a whole self in parts: if the image of the half-fish half-human mermaid stands in for the unification of the self, the transformation into and the realization of the real self, well, then. This boy is setting off in search of himself in his boat, and this other part of him that, when they’re together, allows him to feel understood, feel real—this mermaidy part (literally a fish??? please???) is visible just there almost at the horizon; like, the boy is casting out onto the ocean in pursuit of self-discovery, after having set free a part of himself that needed more room to grow? Almost like he’s following that part toward himself, like it’s guiding and guarding him as he searches.

So yes @thestylinsons I think you're 100% right and Adore You is a mermaid song. Ugh I love the tiny fish. Tiny half of a mermaid half of a self fish. I love u tiny fish baby.

TLDR: Harry really is one heavy-handed mf with the symbolism.

The most beautiful singer in all the sea

What we have here, then, is H plus a hell of a lot of water and notably a maybe-mermaid half-boy-half-fish moment and selves wet and split in half all over the goddam carpet and all that comes together and we end up with a whole ocean's worth of self-exploration. And another well-known mermaid who does quite a bit of the same is sweet fiery Ariel herself—whose story, looked at a certain way, revolves almost entirely around her self-transformation. 

I want to take a second and talk about the little mermaid’s voice, because it’s such an important part of her character and, well, we’re also talking about Harry Styles here, so. In the original version of The Little Mermaid as well as in the majority of subsequent adaptations, the mermaid/Ariel, of course, is in possession of the most beautiful voice anyone has ever heard, and yeah, well—hi, Harry. Yeah hey buddy we see you there. Said not to brag or anything but.

Because my brain needs very clear bullet points to keep track of things, before we go there, we have:

H identifying himself with the symbol of the mermaid in more than one way—tattoo, “I am a mermaid”, on and on—and also—

H working aquatic and/or oceanic elements all throughout his music and accompanying visuals, paired often with—

Themes of exploring/developing the self, or the self being split in half, having distinct parts even though it’s one whole; the self breaking apart or fragmenting.

We also have the idea of the mermaid being linked heavily with queer/transgender experiences of self-inquiry and transformation.

With all this as context, I think it’s important to talk about the fact that one of the more polarizing things about the mermaid as a symbol has to do with that gorgeous voice she almost always has: the whole ~siren call~* deal, the whole—ohhhh help me I’m a helpless man and this mermaid’s voice is so beautiful that I’m gonna literally throw myself into the sea and drown myself for it and then I’m gonna blame her for the fact that I died because I was being a horny idiot, bad scary evil feminine mystique mermaid—the sexist deeply harmful wicked-woman-seduced-me shtick that’s been weaponized against women and femmes for as long as the idea of the mermaid—or just of the capital-W Woman, really—has been around. And though I won’t go too into it here because I don’t want to describe something that’s already so painful in too gratuitous detail, it’s been well documented that this notion has particularly and especially violent consequences for trans women specifically.

Despite these negative connotations, though, I think there’s still a lot here that’s really valuable, really beautiful, and really queer. A siren call is something that draws you in irresistibly, right, something you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try—and there’s a lot more to that than just Woman’s manipulation/destruction of Man, especially if we’re doing a queer reading. Like. If you think about things that pull you in, things you can’t turn your back on, things you encounter and have to follow, things that deeply speak to you—then, I don’t know, I’d think the mermaid’s beautiful voice or siren call would really only be frightening, would only feel dangerous enough to require demonization, were it heard with the ears of a Man (capital M, meaning The Man, repressive heteronormative antihuman patriarchy, etc) who didn't or couldn't understand it, or whose existence was at odds with it. What is said by a voice that something in you recognizes as true—and how it’s said, and what it does to you, how it pulls on you—that’s only threatening if you’ve been trying to silence the part of you that has the ability to hear and respond to that voice, or if you’re afraid to give in to what it’s asking you to do; only if you’ve been somehow convinced, for some reason (like the way that the world force-feeds us homophobia and transphobia), that the natural place to which the voice draws you is somewhere you should not go, or will harm you. I read the mermaid’s siren call as another confirmation of her queerness: this voice, this current, that slowly and with such certainty calls you toward some new way of being, surrounded in water at the bottom of the sea. When you know, you know.

x 

I was listening to Fine Line while writing the first draft of this, after watching Harry sing it so beautifully in that beautiful pink and blue—and I had a little half-baked thought that the voice that goes ~weeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooo~ at the beginning and end of that song—I don’t know, I just was in this mermaid brainspace and I thought it sounded a little like a siren call? So you can imagine the volume of the squeeeeeeeee screech sound I made out of my stupid mouth when I saw that Ella also heard this. 

Like, I don’t know. Maybe the end of Fine Line is just an ooooo and we’ve both just got mermaids on the mind, but whatever that angelic descant is meant to evoke, I do know that now I’m going to think about this anytime I hear it: an echo of H, of me, of H’s audience, being called toward ourselves. This beautiful song about being a fine line between; about things that we’ll never know, testing patience, thoughts going to devotion sunshine temptress her; about we’ll be all right, all that emotion in his voice—framed at the beginning and end by this lovely unearthly cry, I just. It sounds like a siren to me. Trying to get me to listen—to H, to myself.

Tagging @swimmingleo​​’s recent She/Only Angel/Great Gig in the Sky post here too, where we sorta kinda maybe have another kind of like. Siren song thing happening, but Pink Floyd universe? Some beautiful wordless singing and some screaming and more than a few allusions to death (which, in this mermaid siren song context, would be connected with queer rebirth) and transformation read alongside a couple of H’s suspiciously gender-y songs—.

And a beaaaaaauuutiful recent mermaidy moodboard by @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk apparently I’m trying for a record for how many times I can mention you in one of these longass essays

Gay silence gif

When you clicked “Keep reading” above just a few minutes ago, you did unfortunately sign up to read a post that’s half about The Little Mermaid, so amidst all this, we do have to talk about the big elephant taking a splash bath in the proverbial ocean here: in both the original and the Disney versions of TLM, the little mermaid’s claim to fame is that she willingly gives up her ability to sing, to make a siren call. And it’s because she hears a call of her own: the idea of being human, of finding love; a need to belong, to understand herself, to be with those like her. In the movie, Ariel sees Eric and she just. She knows. The fact remains, though, that in order to do what her deepest self is asking of her, Ariel has to give up her voice. I don’t think the weight of that has been lost on anyone who’s ever seen the movie.

I don’t know. Just—that oh my god moment A has when she sees E on the boat? It’s always felt to me (and to many others) like it holds a lot more significance than just, like, silly teenage Ariel falling in love at first sight. Obviously A is romantically interested in E, but there’s also so much identification in the moment when she first sees him, like—wow wow wow he’s so beautiful I want to be like that, I am that, that’s me. I’m not just fascinated with humans from afar anymore; seeing this actual specific human and how beautiful he is has made me realize that I need to be a human myself. I favor reading this moment as much more about Ariel’s self-discovery (read: gender) than a romantic desire for Eric. And this is reflected in the original fable as well, almost even more: the little mermaid there spends a lot of time thinking about how, if she becomes a human, she will have a chance to gain an immortal soul. Her decision to become human no matter the danger or the cost is about her own self, and the way she wants to exist in the world.

And—*overshare sirens*—this feeling of Ariel’s here, this oh shit, that should be me— to be just entirely too frank with you all, I like to imagine it’s not dissimilar to the way I personally feel when I look at Harry wearing clothes I wish I could wear in a way I wish I could wear them. The way he appears in his own self being the way I’d live in mine, if I could choose. Which sometimes I feel is me projecting to uncomfortable heights but—it’s just. It’s so powerful to see someone who, for you, for so many reasons, embodies a possibility you didn’t know existed before, a choice you didn’t know you could make.

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The little mermaid is often decried as a regressive antifeminist figure for the fact that (as she reaches for what’s usually read as love/infatuation but what can be seen as something more like authenticity) she gives up her voice, of all things, to be with the prince/Eric—the main way that she is able to express herself and make herself known. But, god, if you look at it through a transgender lens, having her do that is brilliant. It’s less Ariel not valuing herself or her ability to speak and more—the little mermaid going into her transformation fully understanding that she might not be understood by the society she’s trying so hard to enter, that she needs to enter because she belongs there, it’s who she is; it’s more Ariel identifying with Eric and knowing she should be with him, knowing she should be embraced and accepted by humans, but also knowing this will be extremely difficult, because human society is cruel and transphobic, to the point that entrance into it requires the literal loss of her voice; it’s that the price she will be made to pay for what she is doing is heartrendingly, unfairly high, but her need to be true to herself is even higher. Seen this way, the problem—or the tragedy—lies less with Ariel’s choice to give up her ability to speak, and more with the fact that the humans can’t hear her.

Here’s where I start to be one of those people who says that Disney is, like, really deep actually

It’s not difficult at all to link all that to the silencing and closeting of queer people, the way the world limits and shames queer expression. Which, then, creates the necessity of hiding. Queercoding. Talking by not talking. Saying by not saying. Admission of queerness becomes a matter of omission and demonstration; queer silence begins to say a whole hell of a lot. 

And you know who actually knows a shitload about this—about how to navigate an uncomprehending prejudiced world, in queer silence—in the movie version? Ursula. Ursula, the outcast sister of king big man of the entire ocean Triton, who, sure, she’s the villain, she steals Ariel’s voice and almost kills her yes ok but also—Ursula is the one who teaches Ariel how to perform her (human) gender, right before her transformation. She prepares her. She tells Ariel that, you know what, actually, speaking isn’t all that important, being seen as desirable to your ~princey poo is really all about body language, signaling. It’s all in how you perform your femininity. Give ‘em what they want, girl. Gender is performance. Thank you Ursula slash Judith Butler slash Divine, legendary drag queen Divine, on whom Ursula’s character was based, yes I shit myself when I learned that one. And—performance: god what a loaded and multifaceted term that would appear to be for someone like Harry.

Just, like. This animated octopus lady is so damn powerful to me bitch. If you look at Ursula’s character in a certain light, she’s literally—literally she is telling Ariel: you can’t use the voice that allows you to communicate with heteronormative society to become known. It won’t work. You won’t be able to prove yourself to them on their terms. But there’s a different way—many, as a matter of fact, and finding them where they are, outside the bounds of how you’ve been told you have to exist all your life, is literally life-and-death for you. 

In a way, she’s saying something that sounds a little like: despite the silence that the world demands of queer people, despite the violence of that, there are ways to be known. There are ways to become known to one another, and to ourselves—and they are a matter of our survival.

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POV you came here for Harry content and you’re getting a weirdly in depth emotional rant about The Little Mermaid

Second to last thing on TLM, swear. The ending. I’m gonna stick with the movie here, because the ending of the fairytale version is much darker, and less relevant, I think, to anything I can in good conscience compare to what I can see of mermaidrry’s experience. 

The ending of TLM…… has always felt so unsatisfying to me. And really, I think that’s the point. That article linked above (worth a read, go do that if you haven’t already) points out that Ariel and Eric, power couple, are the ones who team up to kill Ursula (in a very phallic and dramatic way, mind, they spear her with a ship) and set Triton back on his throne as the ruler of the sea—effectively, reinstating the heteropatriarchy that Ursula destabilized by helping Ariel fulfill her desire to transcend her mermaidness and become human. Heteronormative patriarchal norm-setter lookin ass manlymanman King Triton then finally signs off on Ariel’s marriage to Eric, and it’s supposed to be happy because Ariel’s got her voice back and she’s got her man and she thinks she’s got everything she wants and there’s a rainbow even and it looks great—but the thing is, Ariel’s marrying a figurehead of patriarchal male power herself. Eric’s actually the one who drives the bow of the ship into Ursula and takes her out, Ariel’s in more of a supporting role—so he kills Ariel’s mentor, in a way, her predecessor, the one who literally taught her about the concept of gendered performance; Ariel helps him do it; and then Ariel marries him. And Ariel’s father, who originally forbid her from having anything to do with humans at all, co-signs on it—is like, yeah, great, go ahead and be human and marry this prince who murdered my sister/rival and gave me back full control of the ocean, that’s fine by me sure. Ariel’s rebellion and transformation, in short, is given a stamp of approval by mainstream human AND mermaid society both, and that’s— actually maybe kind of a sinister thing, here.

Look at Triton, man. Look at him right front and center there, his approval highlighted so we absolutely can’t miss it.

To me, just. This whole thing: it’s a deviation from repressive heteropatriarchal rules—a defiance of them, really—being softened enough that the heteropatriarchy can swallow it. It’s the connections between H’s work and queerness being wrapped up in narrative after narrative after narrative so that his image will still appeal to as many people as possible, and make as much money as possible, no matter how many rainbow flags he waves. (I’m hearing put a price on emotion; man I can hate you sometimes; I don’t want to sleep in the dirt.) It’s the way society bends and gives and accedes to certain parts of queer expression so that it can learn how to suppress it better next time, take advantage of it better next time, even more surreptitiously and cleverly; it’s homophobia and transphobia behind a mask of acceptance, or of enthusiasm, even. It’s the way the world uses one single breath to both praise and condemn Harry for being, by all appearances, more expressive of more parts of himself. How they love it when he’s camp, yet hate the daring and, frankly, subversive idea of living by a kindness that is both a) deeper than the prevailing norms of homophobic society can tolerate and b) very queer that’s so present in his music, so just there, if you’re listening for it, open to hearing it. The world a lost sailor, in a way: drawn in by H’s voice, and villainizing him for how he sings, what he sings; where his voice calls to.

Princes and glittery dresses and meeting yourself

I want to end by returning to an idea I think I mentioned first in the section on Harry and water—the unification of the self, the mermaid image being made of two distinct elements (fish, human) that come together to form a more cohesive whole, an entirely new being.

This, of course, tracks when we think about Ariel: as a human, Ariel’s entire body— in a queer reading, her gender— fits her better. We see that visually in the sparkly dress that Ella pointed out—and in the fact that with Eric, she’s feels she belongs: I’m about to do that dumb thing I do again where I read a couple as actually a representation of one person’s self and say that we’re seeing two parts of Ariel’s self being united in this sweet moment at the end when she emerges from the sea and Eric finally recognizes her. 

If we’re reading Eric and Ariel as halves of one whole mermaid here, then it’s insane to me that for the longest in the movie, Eric doesn’t recognize Ariel as the mysterious woman who saved him—who he’s in love with and has been searching for, even as Ariel herself tries so hard to show him that it’s her you dumb bitch it’s heerrrrr—and literally the only reason that he doesn’t GET it is because he can’t hear Ariel speak, he doesn’t have the tools to know her. He doesn’t know who or where this lifesaving ethereal voice he’s dreaming about is, even though she’s right in front of him, because he doesn’t have the capacity to understand her presence or who she is or what she means to him, and my brain is just going sounds like She, sounds like She bitch that’s She—like god this mf is really searching for Ariel The. Whole. Time. And longing so badly to hear her voice, and she’s right there in his face, and he can’t see it because he doesn’t know how to know her, she doesn’t speak in a way he’s used to hearing, sounds like She bitch I don’t know who she is bit ch and also....... two halves in two bodies, two entities representing a whole self....... hello Adore You fish boy mermaid music video. Hello selves in two parts coming together and then splitting apart and then coming together again. Hello meeting new parts of yourself and finally, finally understanding them and falling in love with them, following them out to sea, following them out of the sea. 

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And this is also so interesting to me because like I mentioned earlier—that’s Eric that Ariel’s with there, that’s Prince Eric™, Ursula-killer Eric. He does symbolize, I think, when paired with little mermaid herself, a truer expression of Ariel’s queer identity. But he also, like I said, axed the mentor who taught Ariel that gender is a performance in the first place, which. Problematic. And: for him to see her...... she had to talk. His way.

How I see this: there’s something life-giving and beautiful in the love between Ariel’s two parts of herself—her gendered energies, if you’ll allow me the binaristic thinking for a moment—despite the fact that both (the Ariel half, the Eric half) are entirely surrounded in and partially shaped by patriarchy. Ursula saying things like what she says to Ariel about performance and gender threatens the norms underlying Eric’s power, so she has to die; and Ariel helps Eric kill her—in pursuit of her full self, sure, but she still does. We can’t gloss over that. E and A love one another, and they belong together, and now that they are together Ariel is closer to a fuller, queerer way of being—and so much about them will always exist in the context of antiqueer patriarchy. All of that can be true at the same time. There can be a true and solid core to self-love and self-expression, and there can also be a lot of contextual difficulties and paradoxes to navigate when it comes to actually living out these elusive things. One of the reasons I love Harry’s music so so so so much is that it so often feels to me like it’s so frank about this sentiment—though, again, what I see in H’s music is more a reflection of me than it is of him, because he’s the only one who will ever have the authority to say what’s really there.

Importantly, I don’t at all mean to say that trying to locate a relationship to the body or to gender that does feel like it fits is a futile thing, or isn’t possible or real or worth it—it absolutely is. It’s just, so often, so difficult. And complicated: I find that along my own strange little way, parts of me have tried to silence other parts of myself that shouldn’t be silenced; parts of myself haven’t recognized me; parts of myself, most frighteningly, have even asked me to profoundly transform. It is, I imagine—I’ve said this before, but: a little like learning to live underwater might be? A little like becoming a mermaid without drowning—holding out long enough to see all the beauty around you when you finally take your first breath of water.

I don’t know. I’m just grateful, as always, to ever-thoughtful, mermaid-dress-wearing Harry—for the depth of his art, for the depth of his patience, for his oceanic fearlessness. 

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Far out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest of cornflowers and as clear as the clearest glass, but it is very deep, deeper than any anchor-cable can reach, and many church towers would have to be placed on top of each other to stretch from the sea-bed to the surface.

Down there the sea-folk live.

-Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid