#most of it was because of how we were whipped

[silenthades]

I will always remember the conversation I had with a “good Christian” coworker where I was talking about how peace almost never works with oppressors, because peace often justifies and enables abuses of power and prioritizes compromise over resolution. Talked about how, even with Gandhi, it wasn’t until he was imprisoned and everyone else turned to protest and riots for his release that change finally happened and he was released before he could starve and become a martyr. Riots saved his life and brought change, but we focus on Gandhi’s peace rather than the fact that his radical peace almost created a martyrdom- and that’s what the authorities were REALLY scared of. (And yes, I know Gandhi is problematic in his own ways, but in our society he’s always put up as a hero because keeping the peace no matter what we’re put through is our status quo).

I also pointed out that Jesus overturned tables and whipped people for monetizing spirituality, but no one wants to talk about Jesus being very socio-anarchist instead of a capitalist fascist.

This coworker argued the entire time that peace was always the answer and I wouldn’t understand as a non-Christian… and then stopped mid-sentence near the end and proceeded to cuss at and threaten the life of a motorcyclist that passed by our post bc he hated motorcyclists and thought they all deserved to die because “they” threatened truck drivers’ jobs.

And that really drives home what this argument is really about for some people. It really is about keeping the peace and preserving the status quo at the expense of those of us most vulnerable. They don’t seem to realize their peace takes human sacrifice, and they aren’t sacrificing to a god for a good harvest- they’re sacrificing these people to Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos for a Tesla Cyber Truck and some scalped item to get here the day after you order it.

You want to talk to me about not understanding peace as a non-Christian? Honey, I grew up in Mormonism- the king cult of preserving the status quo. And I LEFT. There’s a good reason I know what peace and love really means because leaving really tested it.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I know I've written about Daryl x reader in a relationship, but I'm rewatching The Walking Dead and UGH I love him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・The perfect example of your marriage is that scene from Yellowstone at the bar. Here's the link. Warnings: Violence :)

・Yes, so you and Daryl have a very close relationship - it has taken you a long time to get to this point.

・But marriage meant you two would be staying together for life. And Daryl knew that. No one was taking you away from him.

・You two met at the very beginning; in the camp with Lori, Carl, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn etc.

・You abhorred Merle and gave him as much as you could - cussing him out, calling out his actions etc. You were always right but Merle was Merle.

・And you grouped Daryl with his brother; although he didn't say much.

・When Merle wasn't around, you actually got the time to see Daryl differently.

・He was really growing on you.

・You had no idea that he was wrestling with certain feelings as well.

・Your relationship was ... a slowburn to say the least. But you always looked out for each other. Made sure one another had enough food and water.

・There developed a constant between the two of you. Where one went, the other wasn't far behind. Especially when the group would split up

・You always found your way back to each other

・And yet, neither of you could see how much the other cared. Even though the whole group - even the new members - could see it.

・Though he comes off as rough and gruff to most, Daryl would have a soft spot for you. You’d be the only one who gets to see his gentler, more vulnerable side.

・

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Daryl was anxious all day, you even saw his hands shake before he saw it and shoved them in his pockets.

・You were worried; he never kept anything from you. Not even when you were just best friends.

・So you went to Carol, she shrugged her shoulders and gave you that knowing look. It calmed your own nerves down, because when Daryl is anxious; you are tenfhold.

・That night you were getting ready for watch, but a knock came at the door.

・It was Michonne.

"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm gonna start my shift soon but I can make us something tea?"

"It's okay, and don't worry about your shift; I have something for you to do."

"Oh okay, sure."

・You followed Michonne past the gardens, the crops and up to the doors of Alexandria and out into the nearby forest.

"We ugh, made sure the area was clear. You don't need to worry about a thing."

・She gave you one of her knowing smiles and you knew something was up...it made you nervous.

・Once Michonne disappeared, you heard the crunching of leaves.

・Quickly you whipped out your knife and swiped as you turned, only to be met by a large hand grabbing your arm.

"Thought I taught ya better than tha'" Daryl said, letting go of your arm and giving you a smile

"You did. I knew it was you. Heavy boots were giving me a heads up."

・It was then that you noticed his appearance; washed, with a clean black button up shirt, and a fresh pair of jeans.

・You quirked an eyebrow.

"What is this Dixon?"

Hesitating, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with his calloused hand, eyes darting briefly to the ground before meeting yours.

“Been thinkin’,” he started, shifting his weight between one leg to the other. “’Bout us… and all the shit we've gone through...”

You stepped closer to him. Closing the gap. And your heart started pumping a whole lot faster.

"-You know I ain’t good with words,” he muttered in a low voice. “Specially ain’t good at all this… romantic stuff. But you—you’re the best thing...that has ever happened to me. Hell, you're the only thing that makes sense in this goddamn world.”

・Your cheeks started to redden but you let him talk

From his pocket, Daryl pulled out something small and clenched in his hand, his fingers trembling just slightly.

You let out a soft, "oh." Thinking this day would never come.

When he opened his hand, there it was—a simple, gold ring.

“I know it ain’t much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's perfect," the tears had started to fall now. You didn't even notice you had begun to cry.

Daryl sniffed, not realising he had shed a few tears as well. "...I just want you to know… you’re my family now. Always have been.”

He held the ring out to you.

"I don't know how long we have in this world. But I know I wanna spend it with you."

There was a moment of silence. One you let hang in the air, not truly believing this was happening.

"So… what d’ya say?”

・The look on his face was pure and full of love.

"God I love you Daryl Dixon."

・Slipping the ring on your finger, you realised how comfortably it fit. You gave Daryl a knowing look and he gave you a sheepish one.

"...measured your finger when you were sleepin'...also had help from Carol..."

You couldn't help but laugh.

"You know I'm getting you one, right? I want everyone to know you're taken. That Daryl Dixon is mine."

"Wouldn't expect anything else."

・Then he kissed like it was your very first and last kiss.

The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever felt—raw, deep, and so full of emotion that it left you breathless. His lips claimed yours with an intense passion.

His hands trembled slightly, and cradled your face. Holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world; well, to him you were.

Pulling apart, he rested his forget against your own and whispered:

“Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

In that moment, the world outside could have crumbled, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that existed was you and him.

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Being married to Daryl Dixon meant having someone completely and utterly loyal to you.

・He calls you his family; and when he does so, you know it comes from a place of deep sincerity and respect.

・Instead of grand romantic displays, Daryl shows his love in quiet ways, like fixing something for you, preparing food, or just staying by your side during tough times.

・Daryl would be the ultimate protector, keeping you safe at all costs.

・You have your own place together. Not too far from everyone but secluded enough that you feel independent

・A common part of your nightly routine is cuddling up together on the couch and eventually falling asleep. (Daryl already having locked all the doors and has weapons around the house - just in case. He's not leaving anything to chance.)

・You've both shared everything you know about survival with one another.

・One of your ideas was to make a book about it. How to survive in this mess of a world; Daryl has fully encouraged it. He said it would come in handy for the next generations...

・Daryl thrives in the quiet moments of your marriage—sitting together by a fire, riding his motorcycle with you behind him, working on something side by side in comfortable silence.

・He also has a way of surprising you with such tenderness. E.g., brushing hair from your face or resting his forehead against yours in silent appreciation.  

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-" (Daryl)

Short & bossy x Tall & follows them around

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

"Why Are You Babying Me?" (Daryl) x "'Cause I Know You Like It" (You)  

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Forced Proximity

Strong Feelings (Thinking It's Hate - WRONG It's Love)

Enemies to Lovers  

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon

Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

One More Hour by Tame Impala

[clarkeyshill]

deeply still in love

arthur hill x fem reader

summary: two exes who find their way back to each other

navigation | masterlist | lyric masterlist

𝄞 Well, hey there, lover, I heard you're sober now, It must be easier without me around 𝄞

you stood in the bar with a water in your hand watching as your group of friends yapped drunkenly with each other making you laugh from a distance. you had been sober for just over 6 months now, at first coming to clubs and bars was hard because you felt obliged to drink so you stopped spending nights with your closest friends but eventually you got over it and know you were the permanent designated driver.

you swigged the final drop of water from your cup handing back to the bartender with a smile before deciding to go get some fresh air. you made your way outside wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold december air sent goosebumps over your exposed skin.

“y/n?” a familiar voice called from behind you making you whip around, a few feet away you spotted chris, george and arthur frederick and your eyes quickly scanned for another but couldn’t find him.

the three boys rushed towards you in their drunken states tackling you into a bear hug making you laugh happily, “hello!”

george bounced around like a golden retriever wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “we’ve missed you! we haven’t seen you in ages!” he drew out each word look at his mates who nodded in agreement, “you should come drink with us! let me buy you a drink!”

you reluctantly agreed allowing the three boys to guide you back to the bar, “what you drinking y/n/n?”

“just a water for me please.” you smiled kindly at the bartender, who nodded turning to make the four of them their drinks.

“you wankers! where the fuck did you go?” a voice called towards the three boys and you froze at the familiarity of it, the voice that used to calm your every thoughts and that brought you so much comfort, “you’re a bunch of twats!”

george, arthur and chris looked between yourself and arthur hill sheepishly.

arthur’s ranting quickly paused when he laid his eyes on you, drinking in all of your features he had missed so deeply over the past year and a half. his eyes scanned your face adoring how your eyes still looked at him with a certain softness that was saved specifically for him.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you smiled at him, and he smiled back making the three boys beside the pair cough awkwardly as arthurtv handed you your drink and you thanked him softly, “no vodka and cranberry?” your ex questioned looking at the clear liquid in your hands.

“i don’t drink anymore.” you told him and he nodded with a proud smile on his face, “i haven’t drank in half a year.”

george pulled at chris’ arm gesturing for them to leave you and arthur alone which arthurtv and chris agreed to making their way towards a random empty table. you twirled on your seat at the bar looking at arthur through your eyelashes as he took the stool next to you.

“half a year?”

you nodded sipping your water, “well done,” he congratulated you squeezing your free hand softly, “must be easier without me forcing you to go out every weekend.”

you hummed pursing your lips, “you could say that.” you smirked teasing him slightly making him laugh.

𝄞 Go tell your mother that she did nothing wrong cause you seem happier ever since I've been gone 𝄞

you sat on your sofa cuddled under a thick throw with your laptop on your lap scrolling through your youtube explore page to watch something as you got cosy for the night. since you and arthur broke up broke up a year ago, you had spent most of your nights sleeping on the couch not used to the emptiness of your bed quite yet.

as you scrolled, your eyes landed on a thumbnail that held arthur and his mum on their podcast and you smiled lightly seeing his smile. he looked happy, happier than he had in the last months of your relationship.

you had seen his social media posts many times over the past months - not seeing the use of unfollowing each other - and he was genuinely happy, focusing on himself and his music, it made your heart simultaneously melt and break.

you clicked on the video watching the mother-son duo joke and laugh with eachother as they always did making tears prick in your eyes as a lump formed in your throat, it was strange seeing two of the people you held closer to your heart become more distant as time went on. you knew deep down that eventually, arthur would find a new, better, girlfriend who lisa would take in just like she had with you and you’d be forgotten.

it was normal, a part of life.

as long as he’s happy, is all you thought watching the pod with a haze of memories for your years spent together.

𝄞 Well, I heard you might've found somebody new I still can't swallow it 𝄞

yourusername

21.2k likes | 648 comments

yourusername happy girl 🩶

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miaxmon so happy for you beaut 🥹

┃ yourusername love you mi 😘

shannonlangdon ill cry 😭

┃ yourusername 🥰🥰

userone someone check on arthur please

┃ usertwo im sure he’s fine 🙄

usertwo cuties 🤧

faithlouisak happiness looks good on you chicky 💕💕

┃ yourusername love you miss kelly payne 🫶🏻🫶🏻

arthur sat in the kitchen with george and chris scrolling through his feed mindlessly as he chewed down on the meal chris had made for the three of them. he scrolled until he stopped on your recent post and his throat closed as his stomach dropped, arthur quickly dropped his fork making a b-line to the bathroom and his food came straight back out as he gagged.

chris and george looked at each other in confusion as arthur came back into the kitchen as if nothing had just happened but his mates could tell something was up by his moody attitude towards them.

but george and chris brushed it off with a shrug letting their friend come to them whenever he was ready to talk about whatever was bothering him.

𝄞 But I think I'm proud of you 𝄞

arthurnfhill

19.3k likes | 297 comments

arthurnfhill hey guys no biggie just taking a break from tour to tell you that my first EP ‘in the middle of somewhere’ is coming out on the 14th of february. oh and a song called lily will also be all yours at midnight tonight. in other words its all bloody happening and i am VERY excited. if your feeling generous you can presave the EP from the link in my bio. love ya.

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eleanorneale WOWWW this artwork is insane 🤩 so excited for the EP yaaay!!!!!!

┃ arthurnfhill me too!!!

arthurhillhq MAJOR!! so so proud

┃ arthurnfhill thank you arthur hill

userone screaming omg 😭😭

yourusername so so unbelievably proud of you art ❤️

┃ arthurnfhill thank you ❤️

┃ userone oh my gosh

┃ usertwo not our parents interacting 🥲

𝄞 And I went out tonight Shit don't feel the same, I try and bury it 'til I called her by your name 𝄞

arthur stumbled into his flat knocking things over as he made his way to the livingroom shushing himself as he did so trying not to wake up his flatmates, which failed. george came out of his room looking at his best friend, who was slumped against the wall, in concern, “how much did you drink?” he questioned, helping arthur to the living room.

“i didn’t even wanna drink.” arthur shook his head, plopping down on the sofa pulling the throw over him, “but i couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

the sadness in arthur’s voice made george look down at his friend with sympathy, “it’s okay, mate.” george comforted high, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“i miss her, george.”

george nodded letting arthur drop his head into his chest with a sigh, “i called the girl i was with by her name as well, and then i looked like a loser drinking by myself.”

“what do you wanna do?” george asked, making arthur shrug in defeat, “are you going to talk to y/n?”

arthur shot up almost falling back into the cushions, “i can’t do that, she has a new boyfriend, and she’s happy.”

george pressed his lips together hiding what he knew but arthur didn’t let it go unnoticed, even in his drunken state he knew when his friend was hiding something! “you know something.”

george chewed at his cheek before nodding, “y/n told becky that she isn’t happy with her boyfriend.”

george had paraphrased what you had said to becky leaving out the parts where you had confessed to still being in love with arthur.

“really?” arthur elbows rested on his knees as his head fell forward, “i have to speak to her.”

“in the morning, yeah?”

𝄞 I'm sorry, but I'm deeply still in love, In love with you 𝄞

it was 3 a.m. and your phone buzzed violently next to you on the coffee table making you groan as you rolled over on your couch reaching out for it not looking at the contact before you answered it, “hello?”

“y/n…”

the voice rang through your years sending shivers down your spine as you sat up straight, “arthur? w-what, are you okay?”

a hum came from the other end of the line as well as a laugh, “this is so stupid,” he grumbled, kicking what sounded like a bin, “i’m outside.”

you hung up instantly racing out of your flat and down the stairs to the main entrance spotting a dishevelled arthur sat leaning against the wall, “arthur…” you said, walking over to him and he stood up quickly rushing over to you pulling you close to his body. you laid your head on his chest inhaling carefully letting your sense flood with the scent of his cologne and the beer had been drinking, “are you still drunk?”

he shook his head dropping his chin onto your head closing his eyes, “no, i stopped drinking hours ago and george was feeding me water.”

“good.”

you pulled away from him looking up at him with a soft smile, “i broke up with my boyfriend.”

“good.”

you nodded and arthur’s hands moved from your waist to cup your jaw, you leaned up standing on your toes letting your lips touch as you melted into each other finding peace in each others touch.

“i’m so in love with you.” arthur mumbled against your lips before following you back into your apartment building.

[red-phantom-0]

Neglected Reader x Yandere Platonic Batfam pt 2

continuation of this au -> 🍁

- well anyways, so the reader is stuck in this expensive limbo and they're like " uhhhhh so about the fact you've been avoiding paying your taxes for the past five years -" like reader is just trying to be professional .

- Bruce ignores their comment and just gives reader a cheshire smile and is like " Don't worry about that hun right now we just want to spend time with you " like he's just trying to reassure reader and they're just there like ' WHERE IS THE NEAREST TRUSTED ADULT THIS GRANDPA IS WEIRD ???'

- reader is just awkwardly sitting there like 🧍‍♀️ meanwhile damians just staring at them , enamored . So reader just awkwardly goes on their phone and text their secretary to track their location and pick them up because they are creeped tf out.

- Bruce is trying to be smooth by making dad jokes like " simba was moving too slow so I told him to mufasa "and readers just awkwardly laughing because she doesn't want the old man to feel bad .

- it gets worse when he tries using modern slang like " Hey ( reader's name ) you're so sigma today " and literally everyone in the limbo cringes and damian tells his dad to shut up and to stop embrassing them.

- anyways y'all reach the Wayne Mansion and you try to get out of the limbo but damian literally holds onto your hand and is like " allow me the most handsome , incredible , reliable , intelligent , best looking wayne to escort you out " and readers like okay whatever because he's just a little kid what's he gonna do ???

- so yall enter in and reader is escorted to a fancy living room , so reader sits dowm and whips out their laptop - insistent on being professional and wanting to get this over with so they could go home and take a much needed nap .

- " Okay Mr.Wayne ? It's says here you owe $100, billion to the IRS -" reader starts but then Dick and Jason enters in with big smiles . " Hey sis /bro !!" They greeted them but reader looks at them confused like who the hell are these randoms .

- this makes them both sad and sulk that their adorable little sibling wasn't as joyous to see them as they were to them. In comes tim with Alfred, and the reader perks up at Alfred. " Hey Alfred how are you ? didn't know you started to work for a new family !" Reader greets him.

- everyone just sits there in shock like does reader seriously forget about them - like they know they fucked up big time by ignoring /neglecting them but like they didn't recognize their own family??

- Alfred just politely smiles at reader and is like " Mr./Mrs. (Reader's Name ) I am still working for the same family, your adopted family in fact " he clarified. Reader just stares at him in confusion because like they don't ever recall being adopted ?? Like they've been in foster care they're whole life??.

- reader is just awkwardly like " hahaha hahaha nice joke man " and dick literally dramatically falls to floor and starts sobbing about how reader doesn't love them anymore .

- reader is just like ' wtf ' because like dramatic much and also they thought Alfred was their foster parent and they were just living in a big apartment complex w another family they didn't know they were supposed to be adopted siblings .

- tim literally grabs dick by his shirt collar and picks him up . " It's very nice to meet you :> " tim greets reader. Reader responds with a poker face , " uhhh we lived in the same place for 13 years mate it's a bit late to an introduction, yeah ?" reader says with a deadpan tone.

- everyone just looks at each other awkwardly and reader gets a notification from their secretary that they were outside waiting on them . Reader sighs and gets up from the couch and shoves their laptop into their travel bag . " Alright was nice knowing yall but I gotta dip " reader says and begins to walk right out .

- everyone immediately gets up to chase after them , Damian literally clinging onto their leg, and Jason and Bruce was trying to persuade them into staying saying ' its too late to go outside ' , " it's too dangerous ' . Reader just stops and looks at them both like " yeah grandpa it's 4 pm we know it's your bed time " and walks out the mansion.

- reader walks out , boss bitch style into their own expensive sports car not before waving at them and saying " See you later in court when you get arrested for tax evasion Bruce " and with that they drive off.

- the batfam just stands there in shambles because they failed in kidnapping and convincing reader to stay with them.

[elfwreck]

I can't promise you'll be okay, or your friends will be okay.

I can promise: We have been through worse.

We have survived in eras where it people were literally legally allowed to kill us on sight with no repercussions. We have survived through eras where we could be tortured by cops and they couldn't even be charged or sued later because nobody would take the case, even if their actions weren't legal. We have survived through eras where the hint that someone might be queer was not only considered a valid reason to fire them, evict them (even if they were a child), remove their children, steal their possessions, and physically assault them in horrible ways - but speaking out against that could get someone else the same treatment.

We have gained a lot of civil rights since then. We have recently lost some - but not all of them. And there are people who want to change that.

It's going to get ugly.

Part of why it's going to get ugly, is that they are not winning. They are outnumbered; most people do not care who someone loves, how someone dresses, what gender someone else is. They want to go about their day and do not care what strangers do to be happy.

The conservatives are using a whole lot of hot-button buzzwords to whip up anger and fear because most people do not care. And will not care, once nobody is pushing the Rage-and-Terror agenda.

And eventually, the boomers will mostly die off and be replaced by millennials (...I'm GenX; we're going to continue to be mostly ignored) and the millennials will be setting policies and trying to figure out why anyone ever cared about this stuff.

It won't be quick, and there will be a lot of holdouts and several setbacks.

Loving v Virginia was 1967, establishing that states could not deny marriages based on race. In 2009, Keith Bardwell in Louisiana was still denying mixed-race couples marriage licenses - 42 years later. But most of the country was absolutely baffled and appalled by his actions, and it's going to be that way for queer rights.

Eventually.

I can't say soon. Sorry. We have a rough 4 years ahead of us followed by a long recovery.

Find your friends, your allies, and your community, and support them and rely on them. Watch out for toxicity - and especially watch out for external propaganda designed to turn us against each other. Don't let them convince you that there is a "good" way to be queer and a "bad" way - they want us all gone. They just want us to hunt down each other first, as much as they can arrange that.

Remember that the true resistance is finding your people and building a community with them. It's not in buying or not-buying anything; it's not in reading specific books or watching specific movies; it's not in supporting this or that economic policy. It's certainly not in denouncing the people you don't want in your community.

Find the people who make you say "I wanna be like that when I grow up." Become a person who makes others say that about you. Build a haven with them, even if it's only online, even if none of you know each other's legal names.

No matter what happens, queer people and communities will continue to exist. The more we can find each other and trust each other, the closer we will be to thriving instead of just surviving.

i hope this isn't too weird but im really feeling like I need an older queer to tell me straight up: am I going to be ok? im a queer teen in the u.s. and with *gestures vaguely* all this...is it gonna be ok? are me and my queer friends gonna be ok?

I wish I could tell you for sure that you're gonna be okay. I can't guarantee that. I can't guarantee that for anybody. It's gonna get scary. Some of your friends are not gonna be okay. You might not be okay from time to time, or for a while. I don't know. I know that it's gonna be hard. There will be beauty in there to be found, and you're gonna need to get good at finding it, and you will if that's part of what you focus on.

One of the things that my family tries to do as a matter of course is to look for reasons to say shehechyanu. If you're not familiar, it's a bracha/prayer that Jews say every time they do something for the first time each Jewish year. So the first time you light the Shabbat candles, the first time you cross the border into another state, the first time you sit down for lunch with a particular friend, whatever it is. This is true of negative experiences, of course, and I find myself saying shehechyanu when I'm ... I dunno, at the ER for the first time each year, too, because the poem translates to:

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the world, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.

So whatever I'm going through, I am trusting that I've been sustained to this point for a reason, and that I'll be sustained to the next thing for a reason, too. But it's not a passive thing -- it's not like, 'well, it's all in HaShem's hands, He'll make that choice.' By saying shehechyanu, I'm choosing to sustain myself. I'm choosing to say that I got here and I'll get to the next thing, too. Me and my people, we got here, and we'll get to the next thing, too.

You're gonna have to find your way to do that, and I trust that you will. I trust that you're up to the challenge of what these years are gonna be, because you reached out when you were afraid, and you asked someone for help. I'm sorry it took me a while to answer this, but like. You've got the instincts and the skills to get through this, starting with "I asked for someone to help me."

Asking for help from each other is the first thing an infant does: we cry. We say, I'm scared, this is new and terrifying, please help me. So find the people you can help, and the people you can ask for help. That's how we get through.

[jackandjoker]

my top shows of 2024 (better late than never)

1. jack and joker (act surprised)

this was my first ever thai show and GOSH was i in for a ride.. i legit started watching this for fun because i saw an edit and i found the name ‘joke’ very funny… oh how times change.

this show was made for me, it’s perfect to me, i can talk about it forever and i will.

2. peaceful property

to think i almost didn’t watch this because the poster didn’t interest me 😭

but this is so underrated i think? it was everything to me, each story was special and made me feel so many things. the phoomvicha episode made me cry the most, along with ep 8 😞

3. last twilight

this is the 2nd show from P’Aof that i’ve seen and i think he’s gotten a spot in my favourite directors list. definitely not without faults, but still unique and beautiful and i loved it. also cried a hell lot… and i hope i can get mhok’s fart proudly shirt one day.

4. let free the curse of taekwondo

my first ever korean drama and it will not be the last!! i loved this so much, i only wish it was longer. i’m patiently waiting for all my exams to end so i can watch all of hwang da-seul’s filmography.

5. i hear the sunspot

so many firsts in this post- this is the show that introduced me to the world of asian bl… my first ever asian drama <3

i love kohei & taichi with all of my heart and although they seem to be the kings of miscommunication, they found each other in the end. and i desperately want to try that burger.

6. interview with the vampire s2

iwtv is my kind of crazy, i love them all 🤲

not much to say about this one but it’s one of the 3 shows i’ve given a perfect 5/5 rating so far. (others are j&j and derry girls).

7. the on1y one

patiently waiting for season 2���

these two had my entire heart 😭😭 something about this show that makes me feel so much comfort… and it’s gorgeous so that’s a plus. (my first ever taiwanese drama- sorry)

8. takara’s treasure

this was just so cute 🥹 they’re adorable and it’s just a light and fluffy show and i love that. i took care of an abandoned kitty for a while and named her takara because i considered her my treasure lol.

9. 23.5

loser lesbians <3333

if onsga and aylin had a daughter, it would be me. 100%. i love milklove and i’m impatiently waiting for whale store xoxo. and i love how view is like the girl version of mark pakin because i adore her and keep seeing her in random stuff i watch.

10. see your love

this was just so fun🥺 the best 20 mins i had every wednesday for 12 weeks. both the main leads and johnathan & xin jia have my heart, along with shu he and shaopeng’s parents. i love amazing supportive parents in bls 🥹🩵

some other favs under the cut :)

non 2024 shows i loved-

moonlight chicken

i need more series like this because 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵 it was so gorgeous omg and it was too short 😞😞

when i watched the first ep i didn’t think i’d like it but still continued and i’m so glad because it only got better and better. and i hope whoever decided to make earthmix firstkhao gem4 sing the moon represents the heart never has a bad day in their life. i love it so much.

the best story

when are we getting the dew story yinwar?? 😭🥺 if i had a nickel for everytime war cried after seeing yin with a girl, i would have 3 nickels. maybe more if i start counting their music videos

cherry magic thailand

i wanted more taynew after peaceful property and damn!! karan was whipped 😭 it’s funny how his thoughts were like that when he had a gaystraight face the entire time

other 2024 shows that i enjoyed:

sugar dog life

i love shows that involve cooking and i love characters who bond over food. so obviously i loved this. similar to takara’s treasure, a feel good show.

caged again

it got a bit messy around the end and the story took turns i wasnt expecting, which was fine, but i felt it was different from the premise if that makes sense? i loved it still and i would definitely like to see more of ben & jay.

my love mix up th

i randomly watched this on my period and honestly it made me laugh so much so i’m biased 😭 some stupid stuff did bother me but overall very slay <3 i’m glad chokun has a main role now, after this & peaceful property 🥺

[omagpies]

No way! Another person who has spent way too much time on apex! Who's your main? I'm guessing BH but I don't want to assume. How did you feel about the BH/Fuse engagement? Do you have any heirlooms? Sorry, not very many people play apex on here.

Also, do you have any apex art? If not that's totally cool but I would love to see it!

you have activated my trap card!! many drawings ahead

my main is indeed bloodhound. i also whip out fuse, mirage, and to a lesser degree octane, but mostly i'm a one trick bloodhound. they were what got me into the game in the first place back in season 7 when i heard their 'i'm afraid of heights :(' voicelines (a cool hunter nonbinary character voiced by none other than allegra clark? sign me tf up), and even though i am Very Bad At Shooting and don't actually like battle royale-type games apex stayed my brainrot for over two years. the brainrot is definitely over now and these days i play it as a social thing, but that's how i acquired 2k+ hours lmao

also they released a magpiehound recolor called 'frosthaven' that i gleefully snatched up and have been wearing it ever since (ft the magpie holospray and the magpie mural on their latest map. i think they are catering to me specifically)

i am. truly Not Good. i am here just to clown and gossip and make poor life choices. my impulse control is too non existent for someone whose best skill is shooting a perfect outline around the enemy and not a bullet within

i had SO MUCH bloodhound art over on twitter good god. out of the following two drawings, the first one was bought out by allegra to sell as signed prints, and the second one was reposted onto apex's IG account, and in general this was the one time i genuinely had a blast on twitter interacting with all the devs and vas before everything went downhill both in respawn and on twitter lol. also i have to say, s10 and the whole White Raven thing fed me so. so so. SO well. the existential angst was incredible.

i participated in a couple of zines/projects as well! i have many thoughts about their canonical(!) respawn system and the resulting unimportance of death. adds to the existentialism and to bloodhound's religious themes

overall it was a very, very prolific period for me, and there are many pieces i'm still very happy with to this day

(^ the second to last one is a reference to the fusehound confession scene, and the last one is related to one of my fics, wooden bones (forest deity!bh au))

shipping!!! miragehound was my initial and most prominent ship, and i will never forgive respawn for not expanding on their backstory (their mothers worked together COME ON. they might have met as children! COME ON!!!!! i have a whole series exactly about the What Could Have Been)

their backstory with boone also fascinated me for a very long time, and my friends and i spent many a yap session dissing the dude until we stopped and thought, hey, what if he really was Just Some Guy who made mistakes, what if he wasn't evil, and that's what pulled me right back into the brainrot when i was already starting to slowly recover from it. boone now has a very elaborate backstory and lore and i hope to god respawn never puts him in the games the way we did because a) they don't GET him and b) i don't trust the fandom with him lmao. i'm super down to blabber about him though just say the word. he's everything to me, my big, sad, hairy man

we also invented in-game stuff for him. he had abilities and skins etc etc (the top row of skins is his titan pilot backstory + talos era + 'default' in-game skin)

this diptych still lives rent-free in my head, i think i really won with this one

where miragehound and boonehound flourished, mirageboonehound wasn't far behind! i wrote how it came to be and all. also Рorn. so much Рorn. seriously.

also this was the first time i redrew the twelfth night as my otp. the second one was mouthwashing

fusehound was an absolute delight to watch blossom, especially since we know it wasn't planned and just Kind Of Happened. i felt that lmao. characters be like that. i'm a bit sadge they shelved the whole talos plotline in favor of romance but at this point i gave up on expecting good lore from apex, especially after they fired herr frozenfroh. i didn't draw fusehound nearly as much, BUT i do have one fic that was basically a dream i had lol

honorable mention goes to revhound!! this is the ship that went really hard with artists and writers. deeply painful, deeply compelling, absolutely incredible. mindblowing angst and just as mindblowing рorn, together or separately. best shit. the one ship i didn't write for because compared to the fandom's behemoths i never felt like i'd be able to contribute anything meaningful lol, i just got to sit back and enjoy

bonus: as one of my friends eloquently put it, bh and their bhitches :)

i was going to put in more pictures but hit the 30 images limit!!! my twitter is now abandoned but if you scroll down just a little you can see all the stuff that didn't make it into this post.

apex and bloodhound also REALLY, REALLY got me writing. i came into the fandom already relatively warmed up after a 170k fire emblem fic, but i ended up writing 200k+ for miragehound, mirageboonehound, and fusehound combined. i was unstoppable. it was insane. i've linked some already but you can peep them all here. bloodhound's pov was especially fun to write for, purple prose my beloved

also you asked me about heirlooms! i'm a lucky motherfucker who managed to get one set of shards from the 500th box and another from just the random 0.4% chance. so i have bloodhound's and fuse's as they are my most played characters :)

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[ponett]

Any opinion on the Pokemon Gigaleak or nah?

I think seeing some of the WIP assets from when gen 3 was in development is kinda neat, because Game Freak is normally so secretive about that kind of thing. But beyond that I mostly just find this whole situation tiring.

Fans have a tendency to almost treat scrapped material as "more canon" than whatever actually made it into the finished product, in a way. It's treated as this pure, unfiltered insight into the creators' true vision. In reality, most of the time this stuff gets cut for a reason. Sometimes they very quickly realize it was a bad idea that was never gonna work, and they don't go very far with it. Sometimes it's a pitch from just one guy on the team that was never gonna get accepted. Sometimes they're just spitballing. Experimentation and iteration and knowing when to cut things are integral parts of the artistic process.

And hell, a lot of the time creators will just mess around with an idea purely as a creative exercise, or to get an idea out of their system, or to explore a crazy what-if scenario, or even just as a joke, with no intention of ever actually using those ideas. We recently saw this same thing happened with those leaked Rebecca Sugar sketches, where people were like "OMG Rebecca ships this, this is what they REALLY wanted to do with the show, this is canon, this was happening off-screen!!" And it's like, y'all have no idea how much crazy shit your favorite artists draw with their characters just to amuse themselves. The crew on Clarence had a not-so-secret Tumblr where they redrew scenes from Evangelion with Clarence characters. That doesn't mean they wanted to turn Clarence into Eva. They were just screwing around. This happens all the time, and with way more extreme examples than these. Lord knows how many Disney animators have drawn Mickey Mouse with his dick out over the years. That doesn't mean they ever actually wanted to make an official Mickey Mouse porno.

And, of course, there's the response to those myths that were never supposed to see the light of day. Anyone who's even passingly familiar with mythology from just about any part of the world shouldn't be surprised to hear fables about humans and animals having babies or whatever. But now people are responding to those unused stories and going "OMG Game Freak is a bunch of gooners who want humans and Pokemon to have sex!! This is canon!!!" It's so fucking tiring. So much of the modern internet, particularly Twitter, is driven by people who just want an excuse to whip out their favorite shocked/disgusted reaction image and ham up their reaction to something that isn't actually all that shocking. Everyone just wants to get their funny dunks in and feign moral superiority. It's childish. And it's because of reactions like this that this stuff was never supposed to see the light of day in the first place. But fans feel like they're owed every single shred of info from the development of their favorite franchises, so these leaks happen and people run wild with them.

(It also doesn't help that this is all just sourced back to a 4chan thread, so people were posting fake shit between the real leaks and muddying the waters. And also most of it is in Japanese, so people are just sticking documents through Google Translate and going "whooooaaaa this is canon")

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[luviestarz]

park sunghoon fic recs!

✮ Cafeteria Confessions• PSH - @reinahwanggg (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.)

✮ NOONA — p. sunghoon smau - @hoonvrs (park sunghoon experienced love at first sight when he first laid eyes on his friends older sister. a series of sunghoon desperately trying to do anything in his power to get the girl and yang jungwon cockblocking him for funsies.)

✮ secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon - @elysianeclipxe (build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af)

✮ the 24-hour dating challenge - @jaeyunverse (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.)

✮ CITRUS IN THE MORNING. - @hannie-dul-set (lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love)

✮ 박성훈 、SPOILED ROTTEN - @boyfhee (sunghoon is drunk and is trying to break into your room through the balcony.)

✮ 성훈  、PARK SUNGHOON ! - @sseastar (THE ONE WITH THINGS THAT BLUR THE LINE BETWEEN FRIENDSHIP AND MORE)

✮ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — BED 박성훈 - @karinasbaby (your fiance, sunghoon insisted on a "mini honeymoon" before your wedding preparations took over your time, so how would your day go now that you're on an island thousands of miles away from home with sunghoon?)

✮ angel - @yenqa (sunghoon can’t seem to figure out if you’re human or an angel.)

✮ come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon - @snghnlvr (you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.)

✮ ceo sunghoon who loves taking care of you because you're his ౨ৎ - @hottestvirgin

✮ sunghoon with a crush on you | smau - @woniecore

✮ scoring a date - @shuichi-sama (if someone had told you that after becoming your high school's volleyball team manager, you would capture the attention of it’s captain, park sunghoon, you wouldn’t have believe them. but as he charm’s his way to your heart, you just might. or in which, sunghoon attempts to woo-you, seem to be working in his favor.)

✮ we can’t be friends — [ 엔하이픈 성훈 ] genre ⋆ smut - @dearjaeyuns

✮ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | psh. - @pshcomforts (you test sunghoon on his reaction to a girl hitting on him after finding one of those videos on tiktok.)

✮ 𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇 - @jlheon (seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon)

✮ IMPATIENT. - @sainns (he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?)

✮ MY WORLD — p.sunghoon - @ikeuverse (you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.)

✮ UNLUCKY GIRL SYNDROME ✦ PSH - @suneng (if it was possible to see the number of people who would fall in love with you over your lifetime, most people would agree to it in a heartbeat, but some might not. you don't get that choice, labelled by a mysterious system as someone destined to receive no love and threatened to fix this 'error' before it's too late. but who will be your saviour, the social pariah sunghoon, or the school's golden boy sim jaeyun?)

✮ park sunghoon — THE PUSSY EATING COMPETITION! - @karinasbaby (in which… jake convinces sunghoon to join a pussy eating competition with a bet !)

[harrysfolklore]

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.

[girlygguk]

NOT IN THAT WAY | JJK (m)

summary in which you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, min yoongi. meanwhile, your other best friend, jeon jungkook, is hopelessly in love with you.

★ based on this request ★

pairing non idol!jk x fem!reader (slightly ft. min yoongi)

wordcount 30k (20k main post, 10k reblog due to block limit)

genre childhood bffs2l, fluff, angst, smut

rating 18+ minors do not interact

content jk&oc 21 | yoongi&jia 22, unrequited love everywhere, yoongi is kind of villainized 😞, toxic friendships, jk and oc are v touchy n lovey friends, pining, pushover & lowk naive oc, protective jk, simp jk, a touch of he hates everyone but her trope, a lot of clichés, a lot of flashbacks, heated-ish arguments, panic/anxiety attack, alcohol consumption, a lil bitta jealousy, kissing under the influence, smoking (ciggies), cursing, non-detailed sex scene w yoongi, happy ending because it's me 😭 explicit content; dirty talk, nipple play, clit play, cunnilingus, condomless p in v sex (oc on pill), toy usage during sex (vibrator), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of pillow talk

author's note this fic was basically built entirely in my old writing style, & while i did a fuckktonnn of editing, i'm still not 100% happy with the final product. but it's either post it now or i'll never post it! also... during said edits.. i think i took out most of the angst? 😭 i'm sorry angst luvvers, this is like 60% pure fluff and filth 😭

don't forget to read part 2! link at the end 🩷 (or don't, i wouldn't blame u xx)

main masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

The rain drums against the windows of Jungkook’s Jeep as you cradle a six-pack of strawberry soju on your lap, the bottles clinking slightly with each bump in the road.

Jungkook hums softly to an old Linkin Park track from the mixtape he's played a hundred times before, the nostalgia pulling you in until you find yourself humming along without even realizing it.

He’d picked you up from your place not long ago, with a quick stop at the liquor store for beer and snacks, and now the two of you were about ten minutes away from Yoongi and Jia’s apartment.

You’ve been best friends with them for as long as you can remember—Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jia. Jungkook, just a little longer than the others. Growing up on the same street, realizing that the boy with the big bunny smile from your second-grade class lived right next door—it almost felt like fate.

‹ ‹ ‹

“How was school, honey?” Your mom leaned down to wrap you in a hug, her soft bangs brushing against your cheek.

Eight-year-old you giggled at the ticklish feeling before grabbing her hand and tugging her excitedly toward the school gates, eager to begin the walk home. “It was so fun, eomma! My teacher let us watch a movie since we finished all our work early!”

“Oooh, that’s nice, sweetie.” Your mom smiled warmly, easily keeping pace with you, her strides leisurely next to your quick, hurried steps.

The two of you chatted happily about your day, your little hand swinging in hers, when something up ahead caught your attention.

“Oh? Jeongguk-ssi!” you called out, your voice high with excitement.

Your mom followed your gaze and saw a young boy, about your age, walking just ahead of you. He turned at the sound of his name, curiosity lighting up his big eyes.

“Y/N-ssi? Hey!” Jungkook waved with that trademark bunny smile, and without missing a beat, you pulled your mom along as you ran up to him.

“I didn’t know you walked home!” you exclaimed, beaming. “This is my eomma!” You introduced her proudly while your mom greeted both Jungkook and his mother. “We’re walking home too!” you added with a grin.

“Cool,” Jungkook beamed before patting his mom on the arm. “This is my eomma! We live just down there.” His little hand reached out to point at a street just within view.

“No way!” you screeched, eyes wide in disbelief as you whipped around to look at your mom for confirmation. “That’s our street!” you shouted, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Wow… and we’re in the same class? This is getting weird,” Jungkook muttered, equally amazed. You both stood there, nodding at each other with wide, stunned eyes.

Your moms laughed at your expressions before yours turned to his. “Should we walk together?”

“Yes!” you cried, bouncing on your toes. “I want to talk to Jeongguk-ssi about the movie we watched today!”

You didn’t even wait for an answer, slipping out of your mom’s grasp to walk beside Jungkook, chattering away as if you’d known each other for thirty years already.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled, falling into step with yours as they followed closely behind, chatting about mom things while you and Jungkook walked ahead, engrossed in your conversation about 'Robots'. You were so caught up that you didn’t even realize you’d arrived home until your mom gently pulled you to a stop.

“We’re home, sweetie. Time to go in and start your homework before dinner. You’ll see Jungkook tomorrow, okay?” Your mom’s soft voice pulled you from your excitement, and you looked up at her with a pout.

“Okay…” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook, who was still smiling at you. His expression confused you. He wasn’t sad to leave like you were… Why wasn’t he upset? You thought the conversation was going great…

“Y/N-ssi, I live right there!” Jungkook exclaimed suddenly, bouncing on his toes as he pointed toward the house directly next to yours.

Your eyes followed where he pointed before snapping back to him in an instant, your pigtails flying. “Wow! We can walk to school together and-and walk home together and talk about movies! And you’re wearing a Superman t-shirt, and I’ve seen half of the Superman movie! This is so cool!”

Jungkook didn’t correct you—his shirt wasn’t Superman, it was Iron Man, his favorite hero of all-time. But he didn’t care. He just grinned, matching your excitement with a big nod.

Jungkook’s mom chuckled again, tapping him on the shoulder. “Okay, Gukkie, we better go start your homework, too.” She turned to your mom with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a call later to talk about what we mentioned before, Bora?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Thanks, Hyomin.” Your mom gave her arm a quick squeeze before gently guiding you inside.

“Bye, Gukkie! See you tomorrow!” you called out, using the nickname you heard his mom call him as he walked up his driveway with her.

“Bye, Y/N-ssi! See you tomorrow!” he grinned before disappearing inside with Hyomin.

The next day, your moms walked you both to school, chatting as they went, and when they left, they seemed to head off in the same direction.

That evening, you found out they’d gone for coffee to get to know each other better, and it turned out they got along incredibly well. At the time, their husbands were the ones working while they stayed home to care for the kids and the house. It wasn't long before they were exchanging recipes, enjoying wine nights together, and becoming each other’s go-to babysitters whenever one had an appointment. Soon, they were inseparable.

Just like you and Jungkook.

› › ›

You first met Jia and Yoongi about six months later, when you and Jungkook moved up to third grade. It was a combined class of third and fourth-graders, with Jia and Yoongi a year older than you both. Since the activities were separated by gender, you and Jia naturally grew close, always being paired up or placed in the same groups for subjects. It was the same for Jungkook and Yoongi.

Jia was beautiful. From the day you met her, you knew she was in a league of her own with her looks— naturally wavy raven hair, long lashes, and starry eyes that made her stand out in any crowd.

As you all grew older, Jia only became more stunning, her confidence blossoming with age. By high school, she had every boy wrapped around her finger. And she knew it.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Yoongi to be one of those boys.

Jungkook was the first to know about your insatiable crush on Yoongi. Of course he was. He was your best friend, the peanut butter to your jelly, the moon to your light. You’d confided in him when you first realized around middle school that your feelings for Yoongi had shifted, that you didn't just like him as a friend anymore.

You told Jia, too. But she seemed to brush it off as just an innocent childhood crush, something that would fade with time. When she and Yoongi only grew closer, eventually making it official during your senior year of high school, you felt like you were going to die.

You love Jia. She's an incredible friend, and she deserves all the good things the boy you were in love with had to offer.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t a jealous person, the ache in your chest was impossible to ignore. And every time you visit their shared apartment, which they moved into not long after their second anniversary, you can’t stop that very ache from resurfacing as soon as you step through the threshold.

“Hey. We’re-o—”

Jungkook’s words die on his lips as soon as he steps into the doorway of Yoongi and Jia’s apartment, his body freezing in place. You don’t have time to stop, bumping into his back, the soju in your arms rattling with the impact. Jungkook turns around to steady you before Jia's voice rips through the room.

“You always fucking do this! I’m so sick of it, Yoongi! Seriously! I can’t fucking take it anymore!” She storms toward the kitchen counter, snatching up her jacket and keys. Her eyes pass right over you and Jungkook as if you weren’t there, and she shoves past you both in her rush to leave.

“Yeah, walk away like you always do, Jia.” Yoongi’s laughter is bitter as he follows her to the door. “I’ll see you at, what, 10 o’clock when you come crying back, saying that you’re sorry and you overreacted again?”

You exchange a glance with Jungkook, both of you fidgeting uncomfortably with the drinks in your hands. This was just supposed to be one of your usual Friday hangouts… but instead, you’ve walked straight into a war zone.

Jia’s already halfway down the hall when she whirls around, her eyes blazing with venom. “No, I won’t.” Her voice is sharp, her tone final. “I’m done, Yoongi. We’re done.”

Yoongi’s face falters immediately, and in all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him look this lost. “What?” His voice softens, a note of desperation creeping in as he steps toward her. She shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop him.

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I can’t do this anymore. We need a break… some time apart.”

Even though they fight often, the look on Yoongi’s face tells you that this is different. That maybe she’s never called it quits like this before.

“Wh—jagi? No, don’t—no… just get some air? Please? We’ll talk later, okay?” Yoongi’s voice cracks, and you feel your brows furrow, your heart aching at his tone.

Jungkook silently sets his beer on the counter, gently taking the soju from your arms and placing it beside his. He returns to your side, his arm slipping around yours. The warmth of his touch grounds you, but your eyes stay fixed on the man you love, who looks like he’s about to fall apart right in front of you.

“This is toxic. We’re toxic, Yoongi. We fight every single day. This isn’t love… this is—I don’t even know what this is.” Jia’s voice trembles, her grip tightening around her keys as she struggles to keep her tears at bay.

Your instinct is to step forward, to offer your best friend comfort, but she rejects your gesture, wiping away the tears that have just started streaming down her face. Her face contorts in pain, causing your lips to purse as you itch to pull her into a hug. Jungkook moves close behind you, his presence reassuring, but you aren’t the one who needs comforting right now—Jia and Yoongi are. Jungkook doesn’t move, just leans against the wall next to you, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“Jia, please.” Yoongi’s voice is raw, a pleading tone you’ve never heard from him before. You glance at him, your chest tightening as you see his eyes all glossy and red.

You have witnessed plenty of arguments between Jia and Yoongi over the years. Whether it was when you were all just friends in school and they disagreed on something, or when they’d suddenly break out into a heated fight during a night out at your favorite bar. But this one feels so different, and you don't know what to do.

You shift a little, moving to stand properly beside Jungkook, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. He glances down at you, about to ask if you're okay right as you’re about to suggest you guys go back inside, but Jia’s voice cuts through the air again.

“I’m gonna go stay with my mom. I’ll get my brother to come pick up my things… I need space, Yoongi.”

You swear you see the exact moment his heart snaps in two. His knees almost buckle when Jia turns around without another word, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, desperate to get out of the building as fast as she can.

Immediately, you and Jungkook rush to Yoongi, enveloping him in a tight hug. The dam breaks, and he begins sobbing in your embrace, his body trembling between the two of you. His breath carries the faint, bitter scent of alcohol as he struggles to catch his breath. You sigh, realizing the argument probably escalated because they’d both been drinking.

After a moment of rubbing his back soothingly, you suddenly glance up at Jungkook in alarm, which he returns with a puzzled look.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tilting your head back to search his tear-streaked face, gently wiping away the streams flowing down his cheeks. “Honey, has Jia been drinking too?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, still too distraught to process your question. His sobs only deepen, his body shaking with every breath.

Jungkook immediately understands, his hand lightly rubbing the back of Yoongi’s neck before he pulls away, quickly disappearing down the staircase that Jia had descended.

“Come on, hun, let’s go inside,” you murmur, guiding the broken boy toward the couch. His legs are heavy, dragging as you help him into the apartment with an arm around his waist.

Once inside, you manage to coax him onto the couch, gently urging him to sit down. His face is flushed, streaked with tears, and your heart wrenches at the sight. You pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch, draping it carefully over his lap.

The sheer amount of tears pouring from his eyes leaves your brows furrowed almost permanently. You’ve never seen Yoongi like this before—so utterly broken. Whether it’s the alcohol or the depth of this fight with Jia, you don’t know, but you feel sick to your fucking stomach.

You head to the kitchen, filling a glass of water before returning to Yoongi’s side. Sitting down next to him, you adjust the blanket so it covers both your legs and his. “Here, Yoongi. Drink some water, please?” you offer, gently wiping away the moisture clinging to his cheeks.

With a sniffle and a hiccup, Yoongi glances at you, then wraps his trembling hand around the cup. He takes a few gulps, finishing about half before you gently set it back on the coffee table. Then, you rest your head on his shoulder.

The room feels unbearably quiet now, and you don’t know what to say, how to make any of this better. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“I can’t believe it’s over.” His tears have stopped, but his voice is hoarse. His sad, dilated eyes lock onto yours, making your heart ache even more. “She’s all I’ve ever known, Y/N. I don’t know what to fucking do. What—what do I do?” His voice cracks.

“I…” You hesitate, your mind scrambling for something, anything that could comfort him. But for once, you don’t have an answer. “I have no idea, hun…”

You’re no stranger to giving Yoongi advice about Jia, and vice versa. You’ve practically become an expert over the years. But right now, you’re absolutely clueless.

Your best friend nods, his lips pursing to the side as he tries not to cry again. You exhale, your breath shaky as you shift to face him when he turns away. The blanket slips slightly, and your hands instinctively reach out to adjust it over his lap. But then, his trembling hand lands on yours, stopping you.

Your gaze lifts to his face, brows furrowing in concern. There’s a look in his eyes—something you've never quite seen before.

“Yoongi? Are you—mmf—”

His lips are warm, tasting faintly of Laphroaig—his favorite whiskey. The smoky sweetness floods your senses, dazing you as if you’d taken the bottle and downed the entire thing yourself. Suddenly, you're letting him guide you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as the blanket slips to the floor, forgotten.

Your mind blanks as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping past your lips in a desperate, feverish attempt to lose himself. His grip tightens, and he swallows your surprised gasp, pulling you closer, as if trying to drown out his heartache in the heat of you.

The realization hits you like a fucking truck.

You immediately jerk away, gasping for breath, your body trembling as you quickly scramble off his lap. Your legs feel weak as you collapse back onto the couch beside him, your wide eyes staring blankly at the wall above the TV.

Their TV.

A tense, painful silence fills the room, and you think you’re gonna puke.

Your lips still tingle with the memory of his, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. That was everything you’ve ever fucking wanted—but for all the wrong fucking reasons.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, yanking you out of your spiral. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you pull the device from your jeans and push yourself off the couch, stepping toward the kitchenette as you answer the call with shaky hands.

“Hey, bug. I’ve got Jia.” Jungkook’s voice soothes the crease in your brow before you even realize it. “She’s sleeping in the back. I’m going to drop her at her mom’s, and then I’ll come back to get you. Is Yoongi okay?”

You glance back at Yoongi, who's still sitting in stunned silence on the couch. “Ye—kkkhmm—yes, he’s fine. Okay, I’ll see you when you get back.”

Yep. Of course your voice broke. He won’t ignore that.

“Bug?” His tone softens, laced with concern. You close your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that spring to your eyes. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you choke back the cry building in your throat, glancing over your shoulder at Yoongi. His head is buried in his hands, elbows pressed hard into his knees. “I’m okay, Gukkie. Just get Jia to her mom’s, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Jungkook goes quiet for a long second at your quivering voice. “No, bug. I’m gonna come get you first. Tell me why you’re crying, please.”

Your chest tightens, and when you try to speak, your voice cracks again. You roll your teary eyes, swiping your free hand roughly over your face. “‘ll tell you later, Gukkie. Please, just… please take Jia to her mom’s.”

He goes quiet again, and if it weren’t for the sound of his windshield wipers squeaking against the glass, you would have thought he hung up.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he fights the urge to turn the car around right now and drive back to get you. If Yoongi is the reason you’re crying... Fuck, he can’t even finish the thought.

“I’ll be back to get you in thirty minutes, okay?” he manages to say, his pulse pounding.

“Thank you, Gukkie. I love you, please drive safe.”

“I love you too, bug,” he sighs before letting you disconnect the call.

Jungkook glances up at his rearview mirror to see a sleeping Jia sprawled out on his backseat, soft snores escaping her lips. He doesn’t entirely hate Jia, but he can’t ignore how poorly she treats you, no matter how much you try to convince him otherwise.

What kind of person feels the need to one-up their friend in every aspect of life? What kind of person knows about the insecurities that their beautiful, amazing friend has, but discredits them and forces them outside of their comfort zone anyway? What kind of person learns about the feelings their friend harbors for someone, and shortly after, goes for that person just to prove they can?

Whether Jia does it subconsciously or not, whether her intentions are ill or not, whether you notice or not, Jungkook sees everything.

At the end of the day, it’s you he cares about. You are his best friend. You are the love of his life. You are the one he will protect at all costs when it comes down to it. You are the one he will choose.

You will not get hurt in the crossfire of Yoongi and Jia’s fucked-up relationship. Jungkook will make sure of that.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is quiet—the quietest Yoongi has ever heard, and his heart splinters.

His head lifts from his hands, eyes searching for you. You’re standing a few feet away, the distance between you obvious, and he almost cringes. “Don't, bug. Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s still strange to hear Yoongi call you the nickname Jungkook gave you what feels like a hundred years ago, but you can’t ignore the warmth it stirs in your chest when he does.

“Of course I’m okay,” you say carefully. “You’re hurting... People do silly things when they’re hurting.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, bug, I—”

“You didn’t.” You’re quiet again, and he freezes, confusion knitting his brows. “Make me, um, uncomfortable.”

He scoffs under his breath, hands rubbing at his temples. “Sure seems like I did.”

“No, you could never make—”

“Y/N, don’t say that. I kissed you. I pulled you on top of me—”

“I let you—”

“I took advantage of you—”

“You didn’t—”

“Stop fucking defending me! Stop thinking the best of me—”

“I’m not—”

“You are! You always do! Even when I act like a complete piece of shi—”

“I love you.”

The room falls into a suffocating silence. Yeah, you’re definitely going to puke now.

Yoongi’s hands slowly fall away from his face, his eyes desperate to meet yours. But you refuse to look at him. Your gaze stays fixed on the rug you helped Jia pick out from your favorite vintage home decor store. You’re going to get vomit all over such a pretty rug.

“Bug…” His voice is soft, pleading. You don’t look up. You don’t move. You can’t.

You’ve said “I love you” to Yoongi plenty of times before. But you know that you can’t possibly play this off as another friendly declaration. You know he caught what you really meant.

Over a decade of hiding and suppressing your feelings for him, just for you to suddenly blurt it out because you couldn’t bear to hear him talk badly about himself? And to think your stupid therapist said your chronic people-pleasing tendencies were getting better.

“Y/N. Please.” You didn’t even realize he’d stood from the couch, didn’t notice him moving closer. But you feel it when his shaky hand gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, shaking his head slowly, his eyes filled with sadness as he takes in your expression.

“Okay.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your efforts to hold them back. “I didn’t mean it. Let’s just forget it happened—”

“You can’t love me, bug.” He looks like he’s in so much pain, and your stomach clenches. He’s repulsed by the idea of you loving him in that way. God, you wished that you’d just stayed home tonight and watched movies with Jungkook like he had suggested.

Who were you even kidding? Yoongi is in—well, was in—a relationship with one of the most gorgeous, fierce, and confident women you’ve ever met. Jia is everything a man could want. He loves her. Obviously, he loves her. How pathetic could you be?

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I even said that. I’m so stupid.” You sniffle, and Yoongi sighs deeply, his thumb brushing away the tear that spills down your cheek. “Please forget it. Please, let’s just forge—”

But he cuts you off, his lips crashing into yours again, more intense this time. His kiss pulls you under before you can even think to resist, and it's not long before your body completely surrenders. Your lips part, letting him in, stifling the urge to moan as his tongue meets yours. Yoongi’s hands move from your jaw to thread through your hair, pulling you closer, and suddenly, everything—right, wrong, loyalty, friendship—fades. It’s just him.

A deep groan vibrates from his throat, and you capture it, drinking it in as your head spins. Your hands unfreeze and find their way to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt. You grip the material, tugging him even closer, satisfaction surging through you as he presses himself against you.

Yoongi pulls back, just for a moment, and you force yourself not to chase his lips. Your eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of his swollen pout and reddened cheeks. “I didn’t know, Y/N…”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know. It’s okay, really. You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t know that you had feelings for me, too.”

Your hands jerk back, the fabric slipping from your fingers as you stumble away. What?

“What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

No? That’s not. No.

“Of course I love you, bug.” Yoongi’s eyes soften, and his words spill out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s not to love? You’re smart, funny, pretty, sweet… Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Your head starts shaking furiously, your brain scrambling to process what he’s saying. “You’re—a-are you drunk? You don’t mean that. You can’t just say something like that to me if you don’t mean it—”

“You know me, Y/N. You know my tolerance, and I’ve barely had much to drink. I’m just really emotional tonight. But I mean it, I do love you.”

You stare at him, the boy you’ve loved in secret for years, the one you’ve cried over, wishing for this exact moment. And now, the words you’ve always dreamed of are tumbling from his lips.

But… where are the fireworks?

There’s no rainbow-colored burst in your head, no magical release of all the pain you’ve carried, no sense of it washing down a metaphorical drain. You pout at the thought.

You feel happy, yes. Relieved, yes. Confused… yes.

A soft thudding noise furrows Jungkook’s brows as he twists the handle to Yoongi’s apartment door.

The lights in the living room are on. There’s a blanket sprawled across the rug you really wanted from your favorite vintage home decor store—the one Jia bought because she said it would look cute in her new apartment. Your sandals are neatly placed next to the doormat, but you’re nowhere in sight.

Jungkook peeks into the nearby rooms, checking the main bathroom and laundry, both empty. His steps slow as he reaches Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom, where a sliver of light spills from beneath the door. His hand hovers over the knob before it freezes, his blood running cold.

“Oh! Fuck!” Your sweet voice rings in his ears, rendering him immobile.

No.

No, bug… Fuck.

The thudding noise he heard when he entered the apartment returns, now registering loud and clear as the headboard of Yoongi’s bed slamming harshly into the wall. Jungkook tries to move, tries to turn around and leave, but he can’t.

“Shit, bug! You like that?”

Jungkook’s fist tightens around the doorknob as he hears his best friend call you by his nickname while he fucks you. He’s got some fucking nerve.

“Mhmm, I-I love ittt.”

Jungkook stumbles back from the door as he feels the bile rising in his throat. He heads to the kitchen, chest tightening painfully with every step. He grabs a glass, fills it with water, and downs it in three gulps. Then he fills it again, downs it again. And again. And again.

He repeats the action until his eyes are watering and he can’t force himself to swallow another mouthful. The sick feeling clawing at his throat remains unaffected. He's gonna fucking pass out.

He’s shaking now as he carefully sets the glass in the dishwasher. Then, he walks to the door and removes his shoes, lining them up perfectly alongside yours. After turning off the light, Jungkook walks to the couch and bends down to pick up the ugly blanket draped across your pretty little rug.

Your body clock wakes you as it does every morning. Groggily, your hand reaches out, searching for your phone on your bedside table. But instead of the familiar hard surface, your fingers only encounter more mattress instead.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Okay, can you pass me two screw C’s, please, Gukkie?” you asked, eyes bouncing between the half-built table you were trying your best to put together.

Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment, his hand hovering over the screw C’s even though he knew it was actually screw B’s you needed for that part. He glanced over, catching sight of your little pout, and grabbed two screw B’s, plopping them into your hand.

“Thank you—” you started, pausing when you noticed the bolts weren’t what you thought. “Gukkie, no, I need screw C’s.”

“No, bug, you need screw B’s.” He rubbed your leg, which was bumping against his as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of your new apartment.

“What—I… huh?” you mumbled in confusion, glancing from the manual to the table, then back to the manual. “Ohhhh, fuuuckk!”

You dropped the screws and manual with a whine, pulling your knees up and burying your face in them. “I’ve gotten the last three steps backward! I’ll have to basically unassemble it and—ugh!” you groaned, grumbling into Jungkook’s shoulder when he laughed, catching you as you flopped against him. “Should’ve just let you build it like you wanted to,” you muttered.

Jungkook just shrugged, glancing at the table. “S’okay. Won’t take me long. Want to order our dinner?”

You glanced up at your best friend, hands reaching to grab his cheeks and squeeze them. “Yes. Thank you. I love you.” He turned his face to give your hand a quick kiss, nodding as he reached for the table pieces. “I love you more. My phone’s over there,” he gestured to the couch behind you, a silent invitation to use his delivery app.

You nodded, grabbing his phone and angling away just enough so he wouldn’t see you switch to your own device instead. He never let you pay, but he was building your furniture...

You’d happily take the scolding once your bellies were full and your cute new table was standing next to your bed.

› › ›

Confused, you open your eyes, only to be met with the sight of a blank beige wall. But… your walls aren't beige?

And then it hits you.

Yoongi.

You and Yoongi.

The arm wrapped firmly around your waist tugs you closer as Yoongi nuzzles into your back, still half-asleep. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat, before gently trying to pull the blanket up over your exposed chest. But even in his sleep, his grip on you remains strong. You’re about to tug a little harder when you suddenly remember.

Jungkook.

Holy fuck, Jungkook. He was supposed to come back for you. He must have, but you weren’t out there waiting for him. Panic surges through you as you scramble out of the bed, not even thinking as you leap for your jeans discarded on the bedroom floor.

Yoongi stirs, a confused grunt escaping him as his eyes slowly open, watching you frantically search your pants. “I would say I’m hurt you’re rushing to get dressed so quickly,” he drawls, voice husky with sleep, “but your ass looks fantastic from here, so I’ll let it slide…”

You roll your eyes with a little smile, still focused on finding your phone. Climbing back into bed once you have it in hand, he watches with a twinkly smirk, the bruise he left above your left nipple making his morning wood throb a little. His head tilts up to capture your lips, and you almost drop your phone at the feeling, but you don’t let it last too long before flopping back next to him, finally opening your messages app.

[7:36 AM] To: Gukkie good morning, gukkie. i’m soooo sorry i didn’t call you last night. i have so much to tell you. please text me back when you wake up, okay? i love you 💗

You scroll back to the last message, a photo from Jungkook of an anime figurine he found at the gas station yesterday on his way to pick you up. He said it reminded him of you.

You’ve never been much into anime—only knowing what you do from when you go over to his place and finish the episode he’s currently watching with him—but the character was so cute. Maybe you’ll ask him to show you the series later.

You’re just about to ask Yoongi if you can borrow his charger because your phone’s at 5%, but his phone rings, interrupting your question. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning over to grab his phone from the bedside table. As he glances at the screen, a sigh slips from his lips, his hand running through his hair in a familiar gesture that tells you exactly who’s calling. A knot forms in your stomach as you focus back on your phone, pretending to be preoccupied with the screen.

Clad only in his boxers, Yoongi gets up and quietly slips into the ensuite, shutting the door behind him. His voice is low, muffled by the walls, but you don’t try to listen. Instead, you lean over to his bedside table, searching for a charger amongst the clutter, but come up empty. After a quick check of the drawers and still finding nothing, you sigh.

Just as you’re about to get up and search the rest of the room, you glance back at your phone in your lap. The messages app is still open, and your heart stutters when you notice the read receipt on the last text you sent.

Read 7:37 AM.

Jungkook’s awake? Maybe he’s just in the bathroom and will reply soon. Or maybe you woke him up, and he was too tired to respond. Or maybe he’s mad at you for ditching him yesterday. Guilt twists in your chest, and you bite hard on your inner lip, knowing you’ve just earned yourself a spot in the Shitty Friend Hall of Fame after last night.

You're typing another message to Jungkook when the ensuite door opens. You glance up, only to find Yoongi stepping back into the room with a somber expression. His movements are slow, careful. Your stomach drops.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how underdressed you are. Your phone slips from your fingers into the blankets without a thought as you scramble back up to grab your shirt from the floor. Your throat feels scratchy, and you clear it awkwardly, desperate to fill the silence as you tug the fabric over your head. Yoongi watches your frantic movements and sighs as he reaches out to you, but you pull away, avoiding his touch.

His voice is strained. “Bug…” 

God, you’re so fucking stupid. Of course, this was nothing to him. You were nothing but a momentary distraction, a warm body to offer comfort while he was hurting. Of course it takes one five-minute call from your beautiful best friend to have him regretting everything that happened between you.

Holy fuck. Jia.

She’s going to be furious. She's going to kill you. She’s going to hate you.

Panic rises in your chest, and your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes. You stumble back slightly, grabbing for your jeans again, but your hands are shaking too much to pull them on. Yoongi steps closer, taking the jeans from your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin, warm and gentle.

And that’s when you break.

He pulls you into his arms as you lose it, sobbing uncontrollably, ugly and snotty. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Jia and I… we’re gonna try to work on things… There’s just so much history, and we weren’t thinking clearly last night. I’m so—”

“No, I’m…” you choke out between hiccups, wrenching free from his arms, hurriedly wiping your eyes and nose. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, she’s going to hate me. What have I done? I-I—”

Your words falter as a wave of dizziness hits you, and your vision begins to blur at the edges. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowns out everything else. The tightness in your chest makes it hard to breathe, each breath becoming shallower, more frantic. “Yoong—”

The room is closing in on you, suffocating. The panic seizes your lungs, and even the minimal clothing you’re wearing feels too heavy, too much.

It’s been two years since your last episode and you'd almost forgotten how they felt like. But right now, but the feeling is all too fucking familiar.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in alarm. He’s saying your name, you think, but all you can hear is the deafening thud of your own heartbeat. Your hands tremble uncontrollably, and before you know it, you collapse to the floor, curling into yourself.

Head on your knees. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Just like your nurse taught you. Just like your best friend practiced with you for hours until you both experts in the method.

But it’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

“Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice rises in panic, his eyes wide and helpless. “Y/N, please. What’s happening? What do I do? I-I’m going to call an ambu—”

The door to Yoongi’s room slams open, hitting the wall with a thud at the force it was thrown open. Within seconds, Yoongi is shoved aside, and the warmth of strong arms wraps around you. You don’t even have to look up; you’d recognize his touch and scent anywhere. The most comforting, familiar presence in your life surrounds you, and while it barely steadies your racing pulse, it feels like everything.

Your body shudders with a fresh wave of tears as Jungkook pulls you into him, his arms cradling you while he gently rocks you back and forth. His lips press softly against the top of your head. “‘S’ok, bug,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. “Just focus on your breathing. In and out, remember? I’m here. I’m with you. We’re here together. We’re okay.”

“Kook…” Yoongi’s strained voice cuts through, watching helplessly as you cling desperately to Jungkook’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to—”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice low, firm, almost dangerous as he speaks without taking his eyes off of you. “When she’s okay, we’re going to leave.”

Yoongi immediately agrees, his expression growing more concerned as he watches you fall apart in Jungkook’s arms, “Y-yeah-uh, yeah, I can drive you guys if—”

“If you or Jia ever drag her into your fucked-up situation again,” Jungkook finally lifts his gaze from you, staring coldly into Yoongi’s eyes as he continues, “you will both regret it.”

You’re slowly regaining control, your breathing evening out, but you’re still too drained to form words. You want to tell Jungkook that it’s not Yoongi’s fault. That you were just as much to blame. That you made this mess, too. But the words won’t come. You’re too spent, too weak to defend him.

Jungkook watches as you struggle to speak, your breath still uneven but slowly regulating. His focus is entirely on you, not caring about whatever unreadable expression Yoongi is wearing. Anger, regret—whatever the fuck, Jungkook couldn’t care less. All that matters to him is that your sobs have finally stopped and your breathing is settling.

You’re still trying to speak, no doubt in an attempt to defend your other best friend. The other best friend who’s standing a foot away from you looking like he was going to have a panic attack. Fucking pathetic, Jungkook thinks.

His gaze softens as he brushes his thumbs gently across your cheeks, wiping away the lingering tears. You pull back slightly, clearing your throat to try and gather your strength.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval, silently telling you to stop straining yourself, but he lets it slide without comment. Your hand hastily moves to wipe your nose, your chest tightening in embarrassment by the state you’re in.

Jungkook moves your hand away, lifting the bottom of his t-shirt to gently wipe under your nose, the way someone would for a baby when they couldn't blow their own.

A raspy laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it and Jungkook’s lips quirk up at the sound, a little weight lifting from his heart as he finally sees you smile. He finishes wiping your face and lets the t-shirt fall back down, his hands resting on yours where they’ve settled on his leg.

“First one in a while,” he murmurs softly, still ignoring Yoongi’s presence across the room, allowing you to play absentmindedly with his hand.

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffing one last time. “Thought they were gone… Thank you for helping m—” Your voice falters, confusion clouding your expression as you look up at him. “Wait, how are you here? Where did you—when did you—”

“He slept here. On the couch.”

Yoongi’s voice interrupts, and your gaze snaps to him, brows knitting further in confusion. What? He knew Jungkook was here? And didn’t tell you? “Wha—”

“Saw him when I went to grab water in the middle of the night,” Yoongi adds, resting casually against his dresser.

Annoyance flickers inside you, and you don’t even know why. Maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi didn’t tell you Jungkook was sleeping out there, alone on the couch. Or maybe it’s the sudden wave of nausea rising in your throat at the realization that Jungkook might have heard everything.

“You ready to go?” Jungkook’s gentle voice pulls you back to the present, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. He leans forward and grabs your jeans from the floor, handing them to you without a word. You give a quick nod, accepting them and walking to the ensuite to put them on.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom, looking a little more put together. Your face is rinsed, and your hair is tied back into a ponytail, but the redness around your eyes remains, making Jungkook’s stomach churn. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you cross the room silently.

You step forward, hugging Yoongi tightly, your voice small. “I’m really sorry, Yoongi. I just—”

“Don’t,” Yoongi cuts you off, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize, bug.”

Jungkook, who had been waiting near the doorway, catches the end of your conversation. His jaw clenches when he hears Yoongi say, “I won’t mention anything to Jia.”

You nod, assuming he means that he’ll let you break the news to her yourself. “Thanks, Yoongi. I’ll come see her later toni—”

“No, bug.” Yoongi interrupts again, his tone a little firmer this time. “I won’t say anything at all...”

You blink, confused. Your brows knit together as you search his face, trying to understand. He wanted to keep this a secret? From Jia, one of your best friends? The woman he’s in love with?

When it seems like you can’t find the words to say, Jungkook approaches quietly, your sandals in hand, nudging them toward you. You break your gaze from Yoongi to slip into them, but your eyes flick back to him, silently begging for more explanation. He offers none.

Jungkook stands close and quietly behind you, waiting for you to finish up, and he hopes you do it soon because he really doesn’t want to be in this house anymore. You finally avert your gaze from Yoongi, still confused and dazed, but suddenly desperate to leave. Jungkook reads the look instantly, repressing back what he really wants to say to Yoongi for the sake of your presence, slipping his hand into yours before leading you out of the apartment.

“Damn it,” Jungkook mutters, clicking his tongue in frustration, the sound echoing in the roomy cabin of his Jeep.

You glance over at him after fiddling with the knob of his car heater, noting his annoyed features. “Hm? You okay?”

“We left our drinks there.” A borderline adorable pout coats his lips as he sighs, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“It’s okay.” You shrug, looking down at your lap. “Don’t want them anymore.”

Jungkook glances at you, and the moment his eyes catch your expression, his heart twists. He wants to cup your face in his hands, massage your frown away, and tell you everything will be fine. But at the same time, all he can think about is driving back to Yoongi’s apartment after he drops you off at home and beating the ever-loving shit out of him.

He’s so fucking angry.

Angry at how Yoongi would claim such a priceless fucking gift from the sweetest fucking girl and leave her hurt in the process. Angry at how he knows you’re blaming yourself for everything that happened last night when he would bet every cent to his name that you have nothing to be truly sorry for. Angry at the thought of how Jia will react, and how devastated you’re going to be. He knows Jia’s history well enough to predict that she will somehow make this all your fault.

Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white as he takes a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault, bug,” he says as softly as he can in his vexed state.

Your eyes fill with tears again, and a sad laugh escapes you. “Of course it is.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he signals right and pulls over to the side of the road. As soon as the engine cuts off, his hand finds yours, and he turns to face you. “Bug—”

“I told him, you know,” you sniffle through a short chuckle, cringing at what a shit-show this whole ordeal is. “I told him I loved him. And-and he said he loved me too.”

Jungkook’s heart stops. “He what?” He doesn’t know if you heard his words; he barely heard them himself. But when you purse your lips and nod sarcastically, he knows that you did.

“Yup. Said that I’m pretty and sweet and funny and that anyone would be lucky to have me.” You scoff bitterfly, using the hand not in the grasp of Jungkook’s to wipe your tears. “Apparently not anyone because he clearly didn’t want me. God, I’m so pathetic. This is all just so pathetic.”

You finish wiping your face and dry your hand on your jeans, your thumb gently rubbing over Jungkook’s knuckles. “Sorry, Gukkie,” you croak, sensing the way he tensed up and went quiet, probably due to all of your whining. “I’m done, promise. No more crying.”

Jungkook remains still, his brows furrowed as his gaze is fixed on nothing in particular, lost in thought. “Gukkie?” you ask softly, nudging his hand with your finger to snap him out of it. Nothing.

You squint at him playfully, deciding to poke his cheek this time. It works, though the reaction is faint—a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, but you catch it.

Your head tilts as you move your finger from his cheek down to his lips, ready to poke again, but your focus wavers. His lips. They’re so pink. So plump. So pretty.

“You are the furthest thing from pathetic, bug.” His voice is soft, drawing your attention back to his words, but your eyes remain on his lips. You smile at the way they shape each letter, his slight lisp curling around certain syllables.

A quiet sigh leaves you, and your hand drops to the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it with a click. You unfasten your own as well before leaning over the center console. Jungkook’s hands move instinctively, helping guide you as you crawl into his lap, melting into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and making sure you’re comfortable in his lap. One hand plays gently with your ponytail while the other traces soothing circles on your back. You bury your face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent—a blend of his cologne that defied the night and the comforting aroma of soft linen that always reminds you of him.

“Don’t deserve you,” you mumble, your breath tickling his skin. His muscles relax instantly, his body turning to mush under your weight.

Cuddling like this isn’t anything new for the two of you. It’s become your go-to after a rough day at work, or at uni. Whenever you meet him at his car after class, you more often than not end up in this exact position.

Jungkook remembers that one time a classmate walked past and saw you in his lap, assuming you were doing more than just seeking comfort from your best friend. You got so embarrassed that you stopped cuddling him in his car for a while. Jungkook hadn’t cared at all, but he realized it really bothered you. So, maybe he booked his Jeep in for window tinting that night.

But even though this is routine, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from from turning into a lovesick puppy when you do end up snuggling him. Because he does. Every single time.

“If anyone deserves me, it’s you, bug,” he responds quietly.

Your hand strokes through his tousled hair, your fingers occasionally scratching his scalp the way he likes, and Jungkook has to bite back a pathetic whine. The way you hold him, the way your nose brushes against his neck, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. “I love you, Gukkie. I’m sorry for being such a bad friend.”

“I love you too, bug,” he replies easily, tugging your shirt down as it rides up when you snuggle deeper into him. “But if you say one more untrue, negative thing about yourself, you’re walking to uni tomorrow.” The half-hearted threat is followed by a gentle nudge of his head.

You pull back slightly, observing him quietly. His eyes are closed, his head resting peacefully against the seat. He looks so content, so at ease, and you wish he could stay like this forever.

Jungkook senses your gaze and squints his eyes open, a single brow raising in question. He adjusts your ponytail with a soft touch, waiting for you to say something. But you just shake your head and give him a sweet smile before climbing off his lap and settling back into your seat.

“Can we go watch that anime with the girl you said reminds you of me?”

It’s been eight days since that night. Yoongi and Jia have reunited like nothing ever happened, and it’s driving you fucking crazy. He still hasn’t told her.

You’ve seen them at university during the weekdays since then, and everything is normal. Jia has been normal, Yoongi has been normal. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Three days ago, at the peak of your anxiety from keeping the secret, you caved.

The second you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, phone gripped tightly in your shaky hands. After six long rings, Yoongi finally picked up.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“I feel fucking sick, Yoongi. Please tell her. The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to be. This isn’t okay.”

Yoongi’s sigh came low through the receiver, already giving you that sinking feeling in your chest. He's not going to tell her.

“She doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t concern her. It was just a simple mistake, and we weren’t even together at the time, bug. It's fine.”

It was just a simple mistake.

If you didn’t already feel pathetic, you sure as hell do now.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

You’ve tried convincing yourself of that ever since your phone call. But deep down, you know that if the situation were reversed, you’d want to know.

Not that you ever would be, because Jia would never do something as horrible as this to you.

Over the past week, three things have been haunting you: hurting Jia, being a shitty friend, and not feeling as heartbroken as you thought you would be when, in the span of twelve hours, Yoongi:

Told you he loved you (nice).

Slept with you (nice).

Said he was getting back with his ex-girlfriend (not so nice).

You’ve been in love with Yoongi for your entire adult life and so much of your childhood that you can’t even pinpoint when it all truly started.

When you think of Min Yoongi, you think of that warm, fuzzy feeling that swirls in your chest whenever someone you like walks into a room. The excitement of scanning the crowd at a party, hoping to catch a glimpse of their figure. That extra spark of joy when it was your joke that made them laugh.

Or, at least, that’s what you used to think.

Now when you think of Min Yoongi, you think of a friend. Someone you care about. Someone you appreciate. Someone you love… but aren’t in love with.

The events of last Friday night might very well be the reason for the sudden, drastic change in your heart. Maybe you’ve finally developed enough self-respect to stop chasing after someone who clearly doesn’t want you in that way.

You ignore the voice in the back of your mind that snarkily whispers, “Yeah, just… like… ten years late, honey.”

But, still. You aren’t 100% sure. And it’s driving you fucking mad.

Sure, you could just chalk it up to you being so hurt that the pain, you don’t know, numbed itself out?

But that wouldn’t be honest.

You know yourself. You’re an over-planner, an overthinker, and maybe (most definitely) an overreactor.

Over the years, you’d curated a long, arduous list of ways you thought you’d handle Yoongi’s rejection when the time inevitably came, hoping to better prepare yourself for it.

But not caring? Yeah, that wasn’t on the list. It wasn’t even in the fucking notebook.

You aren’t going to say that you’re unhappy about not being a weepy ball of tears and snot for an entire month, (which was on the list—quite high on it, in fact) but you just can’t help but be completely puzzled.

This isn’t you. You don’t… not care.

If there’s one thing you’ve always done, it’s care.

So, you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why you don’t.

"Caramel coffee frappé for Jeon Jung—huh?" you pause mid-callout, glancing up as the name on the cup registers in your brain. Your eyes land on your best friend, standing close on the other side of the pick-up counter.

"Hi, bug." Jungkook smiles softly, his hand already reaching for the drink that’s frozen in midair as you blink at him in surprise.

"Hi, Gukkie," you grin, the surprise melting into delight as you grab a paper straw from beside you and unwrap it for him. "What are you doing here? I don’t finish until four."

He shrugs, taking the straw from your outstretched hand and popping it into the cup. "Bored at home," he says, taking a long sip. "Thought I’d come early and—mmm, shit, bug, this is nice."

Your eyes crinkle in satisfaction as you watch him down almost a quarter of the frappé in one go. "I told you it’s the best drink we have," you nod knowingly, before a small frown starts to form. "But it’s not your usual, so I didn’t know it was yours… Should’ve told me you were here so I could’ve added my discount, Gukkie."

Jungkook just keeps drinking, hoping the brain freeze would distract him from the urge to reach across the counter and wipe the pretty little pout from your lips. "They gave it to me anyway," he mumbles around the straw. "Didn’t even ask."

And he wouldn’t have. Jungkook has money—and plenty of it. More than he’ll ever actually need. But it’s mostly blood money from his guilty father, which he has no problem in taking it without so much as a thank you. You know all this, yet you still badger him to use your 25% staff discount whenever he visits you at work. Cute.

You smile at that, glancing over at the register where Bella’s back from her break. She knows Jungkook’s with you, so it must’ve been her who added the discount. "Good. I’m glad," you hum, leaning against the counter, chin resting on your hand as you look at him. "What are you going to do? It’s only two-thirty."

Jungkook grabs a complimentary caramel drizzle bottle, aiming it over his cup. He probably doesn’t mean to be so rough—it’s just that he’s naturally strong—and you watch as nearly half the bottle spurts into his drink with one squeeze. “I’ll just hang out here until you’re done. Got any breaks left?”

You laugh, reaching over and grabbing the bottle from him. "You’re gonna get a stomachache, Gukkie." Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "But yeah. One left. I’ll take it now?"

Jungkook scoops up some of the caramel with his straw, a slight smirk on his lips as he shoves it in his mouth. "Okay," he nods, gesturing toward the door with his head. "Come out for a smoke?"

The cool breeze is a gorgeous contrast to the warm, stuffy air behind the coffee bar as you burst through the door of the campus café. Jungkook holds it open for you, and as your shoe hits the pavement, you instinctively grab his hand, pulling him along with you.

It’s only another twenty seconds before you reach the secluded smoker’s spot near the outdoor stock corral. Leaning against the wall, you plop to the ground and giggle when Jungkook pretends to get yanked down with you, falling beside you with exaggerated force.

You shift into a criss-cross legged position, letting go of his hand so he can dig his lighter from his hoodie pocket. His shoulder becomes your makeshift pillow as you curl your right arm with his left, watching as he sparks the cigarette that dangles from his lips. Once the cherry glows red, he shoves the lighter away and rests his hand gently on your knee.

“How’s your shift going?” Jungkook asks, smoke curling from his mouth as he tilts his head away from you to blow it out of your direction.

“Good, it’s kinda quiet today,” you hum softly, eyes drifting shut. The mix of tobacco and Hermès cologne definitely shouldn’t make you feel so peaceful. But on him, it does.

“Good.” He nods, his gaze raking over you properly now that you’ve shrugged off your apron. Light-washed jeans, a little white singlet, black cotton cardi. He takes a deep drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before he comments, “Look so pretty today, bug.”

Your eyes flutter open as you blink up at him, beaming. “Really?”

He nods, holding the cigarette away with his right hand as he reaches over to tug gently at the cardigan with his left. “This new? S’nice.”

"It is," you nod happily, leaning back and twisting a little to show it off to him. He bites back a smile. “Just came yesterday. It's from my online Polly order. Remember?”

“Mhm,” he says, slipping an arm around you as you settle back into his side. A comfy silence stretches until you break it.

“Don’t wanna go to Yoongi and Jia’s tonight,” you murmur, your voice low, strained. The calm on your face shifts into something more pained, and Jungkook doesn't like that.

“Then we won’t,” he responds easily, tilting his chin up to exhale the smoke away from your face. “Movie night?”

You let out a sad sigh, head tilting up in time to catch the way the muscle in his jaw moves as he exhales. “Already canceled yesterday. If we do it again today, Jia will know something’s up.”

“So?” Jungkook turns to you, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at your glossy eyes. “I’ll call them. Tell them I’m sick and you need to take care of me or something,” he shrugs, flicking the ash off the cigarette.

“You think that’ll work?” You speak with a slight muffle as your cheek presses against his bicep.

“Don’t care if it doesn’t,” he replies honestly, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you melt further into his hold.

You shake your head, amused, the motion shifting against his arm. “They’re our best friends, Gukkie—”

“You’re my best friend,” he cuts you off simply, finishing the cigarette and tossing the stub into the makeshift ashtray nearby.

Your eyebrows scrunch at his stubbornness. “And you’re mine.” You roll your eyes, trying to keep the smile pulling at your lips under control. “But you know what I mean…”

Jungkook sniffs, the chill finally settling in now that the cigarette's heat is gone. “Yeah, I know, bug. But you shouldn’t have to feel like this about going over there. Yoongi put you in an awkward fucking position, even if he doesn’t think so.”

You sigh again. “I feel like I’m overreacting about all of this. He says she doesn’t need to know, and maybe—”

“Such a pussy,” Jungkook mutters, annoyance evident as his thumb continues rubbing slow circles on your knee.

You snort at his bluntness, leaning into his arm. “I won’t say anything as long as he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t face her. Not outside of school. If I do, I might just word vomit everything the second I see her.”

Jungkook rests his head against yours, crooning. “Yeah, you do word vomit a lot.”

You close your eyes through a snicker, squeezing his arm teasingly. “Hm, thanks, Gukkie.”

A few quiet moments pass. Jungkook nudges his nose gently against the top of your head, his voice low when he speaks again. “You know you’re not ‘overreacting’ at all, right? Yoongi is a piece of shit for what he did. And even someone like Jia deserves the whole truth.”

You ignore his jab at Jia, having tried—and failed—many times to convince him that she’s actually a good person. “You keep acting like Yoongi did this all by himself, Gukkie. I’m just as guilty as he is.”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“Yes, really,” you insist, poking his side gently. “It was completely consensual—”

“I’m not just talking about the sex, bug,” Jungkook swallows hard, more than unenthusiastic about delving into the specifics of your night with Yoongi. One run-through was enough—and even then, he barely held back the contents of his stomach.

“It’s everything else. Before and after. Telling you he loved you like it was some obligation when you admitted your feelings? Dropping the news about getting back with Jia how he did? You’d been awake for five fucking minutes, bug. You were naked and vulnerable in his fucking bed.”

Jungkook pauses roughly to regain his composure, and you instinctively move closer, feeling his anger on your behalf. You’re about to tell him he’s right, that you understand, but he isn’t done.

“And then for him to not even give his girlfriend the bare fucking minimum of being able to make an informed decision about their relationship? Fucking coward. What if she doesn’t want to stay with him after finding out? He’ll have already taken months of her life from her. Yoongi is prolonging the pain for everyone involved. And I don’t know how long he intends to keep this shit going, but if Jia catches on, and she takes it out on you? Bug, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Gukkie,” you gently interrupt, shifting your arms from around his bicep to wrap around his waist instead.

As you hug him close, your legs shift to tangle with his because you know he likes the contact. His rigid muscles gradually begin to ease, and you settle against him with a soft sigh. “I’m so sorry, Gukkie. I should’ve thought about what this might bring up for you.”

Although not an exact replica, the situation had similarities to what Jungkook witnessed in his childhood; his father being an unfaithful piece of shit to his mom.

It began with small actions like working late, claiming extra shifts on weekends... withholding the whole truth from his partner.

Jungkook’s mom, an amaing woman and a second to your own, stayed in the marriage for as long as she could—for Jungkook and his older brother, Jisung. But eventually, she realized leaving was the best thing she could do for them.

You were in your early teens when the Jeons temporarily moved in with your family until his parents settled their divorce and his mom found a new place for them to go.

Jungkook’s father, a powerful and successful proprietor, was his role model during his entire childhood, and when he lost that bond, it broke him.

Even though some of your best memories together came from that period—sleepovers, movie marathons, him teaching you how to sing—you knew the divorce had a greater impact on Jungkook than he liked to let on.

However, he still likes to joke darkly that if he could relive those days with you, he’d go through the divorce all over again without hesitation. That always results in a wack in the arm from you.

Jungkook shakes his head and his lips part, no doubt to tell you not to apologize, you butt in again. “You’re right, Gukkie. What Yoongi did, what he’s doing, it’s wrong.” His hand moves from your knees to curl around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Okay, this won’t just go away. Jia deserves to know.” You glance up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Tonight?”

Jungkook’s gaze softens. He nods, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, careful not to disturb your tidy bun. As you trace slow circles on his waist with your fingertips, he pulls out his phone and shows you the time—2:58pm. You gasp, scrambling to your feet.

Jungkook laughs, standing up and letting you drag him back toward the café, ready to take the blame from your shift manager, Jimin, for you being back fifteen minutes late. Park Jimin loves him, after all.

“Bug! Kookie!” Jia’s excited voice rings out from the room she shares with Yoongi as you and Jungkook step into the oh-so-familiar apartment.

Yoongi closes the door quietly behind you both, the hug he usually greets you with noticeably absent. Instead, he reaches out to clasp Jungkook’s hand in a brief bro-shake, which Jungkook returns half-heartedly, before Yoongi heads straight for the kitchen.

Jungkook watches Yoongi’s retreat with a slight furrow in his brow, his jaw tightening as he registers Yoongi’s failure to acknowledge you at all. When he looks over to you, you just shrug, not as bothered by his childish antics as you thought you would be.

After your shift ended, Jungkook drove you back to your place to grab a change of clothes. Then, you headed to his apartment so you could use his shower—the one with the best fucking water pressure ever.

Your lease is up at the end of the year, and then you'll finally be moving into Jungkook's place.

Living on your own for senior year seemed like a good idea when you decided to move out of the dorms, but that novelty wore off real fucking fast. Being away from Jungkook was not ideal and you hated not being able to see him whenever you wanted. His dorm wasn’t too far, but it was still on the other side of campus, and overnight visits to dorms of the opposite gender were prohibited.

Jungkook didn’t care, of course—he snuck over anyway, stacking up a few too many strikes from student monitors and professors who caught him.

So, when you moved from the dorms into a your cute little flat, Jungkook did the same, finding one just a few minutes away. There were no free spaces at your building for him to take, so he told you to move into his instead—that plenty of apartments were available. But when you saw the rent price, you just laughed. You knew he had every intention of covering it anyway, but you couldn't do that to him, no matter how much you wanted to live together.

That’s why you’ve been working more lately. Shifts at the campus café during the week and extra hours at Seoul Cinema on weekends. With what you’ve saved, plus a little help from your mom, you’ll soon be moving in with your best friend and gaining 24/7 access to him and that gorgeous fucking shower.

Earlier, when you were about to step into the bathroom, you called Jia to confirm what time she wanted you guys over. That’s when she casually revealed that the plan for tonight had changed—that everyone was heading to Joonie’s, your friend group’s favorite club, instead.

Panic flared in your chest and you almost blurted everything to her right there on the phone. Sensing it, Jungkook took the phone from your hand, calmly telling Jia that you’d be there at nine before hanging up.

You poked at him for ending the call without letting her respond, but deep down, you were relieved. You knew you had to tell her everything in person. If not for the respect of your thirteen-year-long friendship, but because doing it over the phone just felt so cowardly.

You know telling her tonight, before you all head out to drink, is risky. She could blow up, scream, and tell you to fuck off—which you’re fully expecting—but at least it’ll be in the privacy of her own home.

So now, here you are, standing awkwardly in the apartment that’s haunted your dreams for the past eight straight nights. Gone are your comfy pants and Jungkook’s warm hoodie. Instead, you’re squeezed into a black mini-skirt and a tight little top, wishing you were anywhere else in the world.

Deflated, you let Jungkook take the bottle of tequila from your arms as you make your way toward the room where Jia's still getting ready. The door is slightly ajar, and you give it a gentle knock.

“Ji?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, so you clear your throat and take a cautious step inside when she tells you to come in. As soon as you catch sight of your beautiful best friend, a smile automatically paints your lips.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Buggy!” Jia grins, snapping the cap onto her eyeliner before tossing it aside and striding over to you. When the long-legged girl extends her arms for a hug, you embrace her tightly.

“Hey, Ji. You look so good."

“You too, babe. You wore red like I asked! God, we look so hot matching.” Jia smirks as she pulls away, letting her eyes roam over your outfit before tilting her head in thought.

You swallow, waiting patiently for her assessment. Usually, she finds one or two minor things that could be improved for your clubbing outfits, and you pray she doesn’t find anything, because it’s a thirty-minute drive back to your place to make the adjustments.

Not that you think that tonight's plans will still go ahead after what you’re about to say.

To your surprise and relief, she nods in approval before turning back to her floor-length mirror. Jack Harlow plays lowly from her phone that rests on her dresser, and she hums along to it, fixing a few pieces of hair that have fallen out of place.

When you’re quiet for a long moment, something usually very out of the ordinary for you, Jia catches your eye in the mirror and her head tilts. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow. Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Jia’s brows knit together as she turns away from the mirror to face you directly. “What is it, bug? Is it Yoongi?”

Your heart plummets. “Wh-what?”

“He told me you stayed over last Friday? After Kookie took me to my mom’s?” Jia continues, her tone curious but confused. “Said you thought you could handle his whiskey, and he didn’t want to leave you on the couch, so you slept in our room. I almost didn’t believe it…”

“I—” you stammer.

“As if you’d ever willingly touch that disgusting whiskey he drinks. You can barely handle soju.” Jia chuckles.

“HAH! Yeah, you know me! Can’t handle my hard liquor… Would-would put me right on my ass!”

Jia’s amused squint deepens as she eyes you closely. “You’re acting weird.” She tilts her head with a teasing smile. “Did you have one of Kookie’s special cigarettes again? Because you know those are—”

“Jia.” Fuck. Word vomit. It’s happening. “I need to—”

“Change those shoes? I know, I was going to say something before, but you looked kinda sad… Hold on, I’ll—”

“No, Jia. I have to tell—”

The bedroom door swings open before you can finish. The words die in your throat as you whip your head toward the entrance. Tears well in your eyes as you turn to see who it is. Out of the two most likely options it could’ve been, unfortunately, it is not the one you hoped it was.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickers between you and Jia. The tension in the room rises dramatically, but Jia remains unfazed.

“Jagi,” Jia greets him with a bright, oblivious smile. “Just telling buggy how cute she looks in red. Doesn’t she look amazing?”

Yoongi nods at Jia, but his eyes are locked on you. There’s guilt swimming in his gaze, but it’s overpowered by something stronger. Desperation.

Earlier today, after talking to Jia, you called Yoongi to confess that you couldn’t keep it hidden anymore. That you were going to tell her tonight.

His reaction was beyond unhappy. After five minutes of him practically begging you to keep quiet, he abruptly ended the call when he realized you wouldn’t change your mind.

“Jagiya, can I borrow Y/N for a sec—”

“No.” The words leave your lips so firmly that you’re almost surprised.

Behind Yoongi, you catch sight of Jungkook’s approaching figure. His head tilts slightly—his nonverbal way of asking if you’re okay in situations where you guys can’t speak. Ignoring Yoongi’s dejected look, you give Jungkook a small nod before turning back to Jia.

“What’s going on?” Jia’s eyes dart between you and Yoongi. “Why are you both acting so weird?”

“I’m so sorry, Jia—” You begin, your voice shaking.

“Y/N,” Yoongi pleads, but you refuse to look at him.

“Yoongi, just give them some space, man—”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Kook,” Yoongi spits back, taking a further step into the bedroom.

Your brows furrow as your head snaps toward Yoongi. “Don’t talk to him like that. I’m telling her—”

“Tell me what?” Jia huffs as she steps forward, and soon the couple are both staring at you with two very different strands of frustrated expressions.

Your heart pounds at both the lack of distance and the looks you’re receiving, but you push through. You can do this. “Ji, on Friday—”

“Jagiya, wait, don’t liste—”

Jungkook’s scoff cuts Yoongi off, and you can see both men getting more and more heated by the second. He doesn’t take his eyes off Yoongi when he speaks to you. “Bug, take Jia into the living room. I need to talk to Yoongi.”

Yoongi turns to glare at Jungkook. “Stay the fuck out of this, Jeongguk.”

“Or what?” Jungkook’s reply is immediate, his brows raising as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“Y/N, just spit it out. What are you saying?” Jia demands, her voice rising with frustration.

“I—”

“Don’t, Y/N,” Yoongi warns, stepping forward, but Jungkook stops him.

“Stop fucking walking closer to her, Yoongi—”

“You have no fucking right, Y/N—”

“Y/N, just tell me—”

“No, Jagi, stop—”

“Yoongi, fuck off! Just let her tell me—”

“I slept with him.”

All the noise in the room dies out at your words. Jungkook is standing beside you now, his arm brushing lightly against yours, but you can barely feel it. All you can feel is Jia’s eyes on you, her expression completely unreadable.

Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I slept with Yoongi when Jeongguk was taking you to your mom’s. Jia, you need to know how fucking sorry I am. I wasn’t thinking straight, and-and it just happened—”

“It just happened?” Jia’s voice cuts through your apology with a pitying laugh. Her eyes never leave yours, not even to glance at her boyfriend, who’s running his hand through his hair roughly, his eyes red-rimmed. For someone who said it was so unimportant and didn’t matter, he sure isn’t acting like it.

“No, I—no. It didn’t just happen. I did it. And I can’t explain how fucking sorry I am—”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Jia interrupts, her tone dismissive. Her gaze rakes over your body as though she’s bored.

You stand there, struggling to find the right words. “I know I broke your trust, Jia, and I’m so s—”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, bug…” Jia rolls her eyes, brushing her hair back over her shoulder before turning to check her reflection in the mirror.

Your mouth snaps shut.

Where’s the screaming? Where’s the kicking you out of her apartment? Where’s the—

“Who initiated it?” Jia’s tone is uninterested as she runs a finger gently around the edge of her slightly smudged lip liner.

You glance at Yoongi, but his eyes are glued to the floor. “I don’t remember,” you admit quietly. The moment was a blur—his confession had thrown you off balance. It could’ve been him, but maybe it was you.

Jia gives you a skeptical look through the mirror, as if she doesn’t believe you, but then she turns to Yoongi. “Who initiated it, Jagi?”

As Yoongi hesitates, you feel Jungkook’s eyes on you again. You glance up at him, the boy who had been seething with anger just minutes ago, only to find him looking at you in concern. Blinking away the tears, you reach out to brush the back of his hand with your pinky finger.

“I did, Jagiya. I’m sorry. I was hurt that you left me, and I needed to forget,” Yoongi finally says.

His explanation seems to bring some relief to Jia’s face, and you brace yourself for the inevitable ache in your chest at his words. But it doesn’t come. If anything, Jungkook is more affected by what he had to say, judging by the way his jaw tightens and his hand clenches into a fist beneath your pinky.

“Okay,” Jia nods at Yoongi before reaching for her clutch on the dresser. As she casually tucks her phone and keys inside, you glance over at Jungkook, your confusion evident, but the look he returns is calm—like he expected this.

With a roll of her eyes, Jia glances back at the three of you. “Did you bring the tequila like I asked?”

When her eyes meet yours, you nod instinctively, trying your best to mask your unease. “Yes. It’s, um, in the kitchen. Jia, is everything—”

“We weren’t together, Y/N. It’s not like you’re still fucking… are you?”

“No.” You choke instantly, almost shuddering at the thought.

“Okay, then. Let’s start pres and then go.” With that, Jia walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, completely dumbfounded.

This isn’t what you were expecting.

You’ve never experienced Jia’s anger firsthand, but you’ve witnessed it many times before, and this is the last reaction you could’ve ever expected.

Maybe she’s in shock, and it’ll come ot later. Or maybe… maybe she really doesn’t think it’s a big deal? She’s so incredible like that, so understanding.

The room stays quiet as Jungkook remains rooted beside you. Yoongi lets out a short sniffle before trailing after Jia without glancing at either of you. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you and Jungkook alone in his bedroom.

As soon as Yoongi’s gone, Jungkook turns to face you, the warmth of his body washing a sense of comfort over you that you don’t deserve in the slightest.

“Are you alright, bug?” he asks carefully, his hand lifting to adjust the strap of your top that had shifted slightly across your shoulder.

“Of course I’m okay. I just… I don’t understand, she’s not even mad at me—”

“Good. She shouldn’t be—”

“What? Yes, she should, Jeongguk.” His brows furrow. “Please, stop acting like I did nothing wrong—”

“You think I didn’t notice how you took all the blame when you were telling her?”

“It doesn’t matter how it came off, Jeongguk.” His expression tenses further.  “It doesn’t matter how I sugar coat it. The fact is, we messed up. And she’s so fucking nice that she didn’t even—”

“Nice?” He almost scoffs, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “Bug, did you really not see that response for what it truly was? Come on…”

“What are you talking about?” You try to keep your voice down despite the door being closed and a random Drake song pounding through the walls. “You saw the same thing I did! She barely even said anything—”

“Exactly. She barely said anything. We’ve known her for how many years? And when has Seong Jia ever not said something? Think about it, bug. She’s going to hold onto this and use it against you—”

“Why do you always think the worst? Why do you think so poorly of her—”

“Because I see the way she fucking treats you, Y/N!” Jungkook takes a step back, his voice rising as frustration pulses through him. “Even if you don’t see it, I see it.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. In the fifteen years you’ve known Jungkook, you’ve only had two heated arguments—this being the third. And, though you push the thought aside, you can’t ignore that all three fights were about Jia.

“This—this blind loyalty you have for me is flattering,” you mutter bitterly through your tears, “but you’re wrong. She’s a good friend.”

“Blind loyalty?” He forces a laugh, incredulous. “The only thing blind is you for not being able to tell when someone’s treating you like shit!”

“Yeah?” you scoff.

“Yeah.” He nods mockingly, taking a step closer. “You think you haven’t earned my fucking loyalty?”

“Oh, I know I have.” You cross your arms defensively. “If I’ve earned anything, it’s your fucking loyalty! But you need to acknowledge that I can make mistakes too—”

“I do acknowledge when you make mistakes.”

“No, you don’t, Jeongguk!” Your hands fly out in a frustrated gesture as he closes the distance between you even more. “You didn’t when I overfed your goldfish and it died from bloating! You didn’t when I signed up for that People Magazine free trial using your card, and you got charged for an entire year! And now you’re doing it again—”

“That shit doesn’t matter, bug!”

“You’re saying this doesn’t matter?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“How could it possibly not matter—”

“Because I know what it feels like to be so in love with somebody that it consumes you.”

Your mouth snaps shut. As Jungkook continues, his gaze remains fixed on you, but his eyes are distant. “That any sign of that feeling truly being reciprocated would make you do unspeakable fucking things.”

The frustration coursing through your veins fizzles out, replaced by a sudden, painful wave of pure jeal—confusion.

“What?” It comes out as a whisper.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, his eyes just continuing to trace the lines of your face.

“You love somebody?” The bitterness in your tone is obvious, but you don’t can't stop. “We tell each other everything… and you didn’t care to tell me that you’re in love with someone?”

His silence is so unsettling that it prompts a painful laugh from you. “Oh, okay.” You give a sharp nod, “if that’s how you want to be. Fine. I’ll just start keeping fucking secrets from you too, then.”

The lack of response from him only fuels the fire inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words keep pouring out. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Is it someone from uni? What the fuck, Jeongguk—”

“It’s nobody you know.”

“I—” You stare at him, your eyes wide, disbelief flooding your system as your arms drop to your sides. “I know everyone you know!”

This time, you don’t even try to stop the tears that are building behind your lashes from spilling over. But the fiery, sour feeling burning a hole in your gut is too strong, too raw, and you’re not ready to acknowledge what it might mean.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me.” Your voice trembles at the end as you lift a shaky hand to wipe under your nose, choking back a sob as tears slip into your breath.

Jungkook’s expression softens as he takes a step forward, cautiously reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

He tries not to think that your reaction is anything but a best friend being upset that their best friend didn’t tell them about an important part of their life.

He tries not to think that your reaction is because you can’t stand to think of him being in love with someone else.

He tries not to think about how much every cell in his body has ignited at the thought of you being possessive of him. Jealous of the person he’s in love with.

But it’s hard. So fucking hard. Because all he can see is the pain in your eyes, the hurt etched across your face.

Such a sight would usually bring him to his knees and have him doing anything to make the pain go away. But now, as fucked up as it is, all he feels is hope. Hope that maybe the reason you’re so upset is because you feel the same way he does.

“I’ve never lied to you, bug.” His voice is soft as he rubs up and down your bare arms gently.

“Hm,” you croak, wiping more tears away. “Until now.”

“Until now,” Jungkook echoes quietly, lifting his hand to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that won't fucking stop.

You don’t know why you’re crying harder than you have in God knows how long. Why you don’t push Jungkook’s hand away even though you’re mad at him. Why you’re even mad in the first place.

Well, like you said earlier: you are an overreactor.

But it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t had lovers in the past.

You had your first boyfriend last year, a sweet senior named Kim Taehyung. He was a great guy—kind, easygoing, gorgeous. He got along with most of your friends, and you were especially glad Jungkook liked him as his approval was the toughest to earn.

But something about Jungkook must have rubbed Taehyung the wrong way.

Before you and Tae officially started dating, you’d first met at a frat party that you attended with Jungkook as Yoongi and Jia had stayed in that night. The two of them got on super well, and you guys had even teamed up for beer pong together.

But after a few dates, and you eventually saying yes when he asked to go steady, things began to change.

Taehyung started asking you to sleep over at his frat more often, something you didn't really like to do (and something Jungkook certainly didn't like you doing either).

Soon, he was asking for details on which friends you were with whenever you hung out with someone. He even began to ask to switch to FaceTime calls when you’d mention specific names and leave out others.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You’re a naturally clingy person too, so maybe it was just his way of showing he cared. But when he requested that you spend less time with just one friend in particular, that was where you drew the line.

It confused you, especially since you’d already cut back from spending all of your free time with Jungkook to about 40%, but he still wanted more. You’d told Taehyung from the start that Jungkook was your best friend and a huge part of your life, that you guys have always been close. He had no problem with that. Well, in the beginning, at least.

Naturally, you told Jungkook about Taehyung’s request, and you’d never seen him so angry. You reassured him not to worry, that it all wasn't sitting well with you, that you'd be ending things soon.

Jungkook relaxed at that.

He also dropped to his knees that night and sent up a prayer to the Goddess that it was finally fucking over. But you didn’t need to know that part.

As for Jungkook, he’s never been in relationship. He has been with two girls, though. Park Iseul and Cho Jiwon.

Iseul was great. You and her shared an Economics lecture, and you even used to sit next to her during classes.

She’d usually ask about Jungkook, and you’d give her updates, letting her know he was doing well. But whenever you’d try to pass on her messages to Jungkook, he would just refuse to hear them, asking you to stop sitting near her.

It seemed like Iseul picked up on the hint since she gradually found other seats during class, and so did you. You didn’t mind; she was still super nice, but you did scold Jungkook for his behavior. He apologized, but only to you, not to her.

Your encounter with Cho Jiwon, however, was… different.

‹ ‹ ‹

“Uhhh…”

The voice caught you off guard, making you turn from shutting the door behind you. Sitting at Jungkook’s kitchen island with a bowl of muesli, was a female around your age. You glanced at your surroundings, then the key in your hand to make sure this was indeed your best friend's apartment. It was.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted the pretty girl with a nod, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Hello?” she responded, confused. Her eyes roamed over your Seoul Cinema uniform before narrowing slightly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you responded quietly. Unsure of what to say or do, you hesitated. “And… um, you?”

“Jiwon,” she replied, squinting a little. “Are you his girlfriend or something? Because he said he was single, but I should’ve known; he literally stopped in the middle of sex last night to answer a text…” Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, “Wait, what was your name again?”

You blinked, a frown edging onto your face for her. You opened your mouth to repeat yourself when Jungkook stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing a sleepy hand over his face.

“Bug?" He croaked, making his way toward you. "You okay? I was gonna come get you in a bit.” His bare chest was still warm as he wrapped his arms around you.

You pulled back from the hug with a quick apology. “Sorry, I got ready early and just walked over,” you said, gesturing toward Jiwon, still munching on her cereal. “Didn’t know you had someone over, though. I should’ve texted. I can ask Taehyung to drop me off at work and we can reschedule?”

Jungkook looked down at you, confused, then followed your gaze to Jiwon, who was still seated at his kitchen counter. He blinked in surprise, as though he had only just registered her presence. “Uh…are you okay?”

Your gaze snapped to his in surprise, and Jiwon’s expression turned sour. “What?”

“I thought you were leaving…” Jungkook’s brows knitted in confusion, eyeing her attire, which consisted only of his t-shirt. He hated that you were seeing this. “Did you need money for an Uber?”

“Jeongguk,” you frowned, shifting your bag on your shoulder as you glared at him. But Jiwon just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You could do so much better, girl,” she sneered at you, tugging off Jungkook’s t-shirt and tossing it at him as she got up. He caught it with little reaction, watching indifferently as she headed toward his room in her bra and underwear.

You were about to nudge him to apologize when she reemerged in her dress a moment later, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Way better than a lying cheater, anyway.”

You opened your mouth to clarify. “No, Jiwon, we’re not—”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jihyo,” Jungkook cut in boredly. “So, did you need money for that Uber?”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him in utter disbelief while Jiwon just shook her head with a scoff. She angrily brushed past him and left, slamming the door behind her.

“Jeongguk, that was so rude.”

Jungkook just shrugged, tipping her cereal down the disposal and rinsing the bowl. “Bug, I already told her I had something to do in the morning and I’d need her to leave by 8 if she wanted to stay over.”

“I wish you would've told me. I wouldn’t have just barged in without calling first. That was so awkward.”

“You never need to call when you’re coming over,” he gave you a look. “And it wasn’t awkward.” He shrugged again, opening his dishwasher and putting the singular bowl and spoon in before starting a cycle.

“It was a little awkward,” you murmured, sighing. “You could have at least offered her a ride home.”

“Okay, okay, bug. I’ll repent for my sins later,” he nodded, walking over to slip your bag off your shoulder and set it on the couch. “You okay, though? Why’d you come over so early? I thought we were seeing the 10 o'clock movie since your shift starts at 1?”

You just shrugged, eyes shifting to the floor. Jungkook’s big hands cupped your face, gently tilting it up so you were looking at him. "Hm?" he prompted, squishing your cheeks slightly, coaxing your lips into a cute little pout.

When he let go enough for you to speak, you mumbled, “Dunno…haven’t seen you in a few days. Missed you.”

His brows knitted together, and his arms slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I missed you more, bug. What’s up, though? Did something happen?”

You exhaled, leaning into his chest as your arms wrapped around him. “No, just…feels weird not seeing you every day. I don't like it.”

His heart thumped at your words, and his fingers traced small circles along your back. “I get it. It's weird for me too. But your boyfriend probably doesn't like it very much, hm?”

You pulled back slightly to frown, “Gukkie—”

“Kidding,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, resting his head in the nape of your neck. He was most certainly not kidding. “I’m gonna shower, and then we can have some breakfast before we go, okay?”

You nodded, scratching his back a little as he pulled away, heading toward the bathroom while you settled on the couch to wait.

Breakfast was yummy. The movie was great. You and Taehyung broke up a week later.

› › ›

“Can you please tell me who it is?” you ask, looking up at him with a sniffle, feeling utterly defeated. You need to know.

Jungkook has never denied you when you ask him for something. Ever.

You would usually never take advantage of such a gift, but right now, you’re desperate. You know that this feeling won’t go away until he tells you. You need to know.

“I can.” His hand still rests on your cheek, his thumb pausing its soft caress as your tears finally stop. But even then, he doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere on the lower part of your face.

“Will you?” you ask, trying to catch his eye, but his gaze remains fixed on the bottom half of your face.

“I will,” he confirms tensely, reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet yours. His irises are a little darker than usual. “But I won’t tell you their name... I want you to guess for me, bug.”

Your brows furrow harshly, and you take a step back, not in the mood for games. But Jungkook immediately follows suit, as if he expected your movements. He easily closes the distance between you without losing the contact between your face and his hand.

“You’re really playing with me right now? Seriously, Jeong—”

“She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Well, okay then.

You stop yourself from flinching, eyes snapping up to his to find them already locked on yours.

“She’s so fucking funny. Makes me laugh harder than anyone else in the world. And she doesn't even try.”

Yep. You’ve heard enough.

You swallow hard and raise your hand in an attempt to stop him, your mind racing for words. The fingers of his free hand wrap easily around your risen palm, bringing it to rest flat against his chest.

“All she has to do is walk in the room, and my heart beats so fucking hard that I’m scared she’s gonna hear it one day.”

You feel it—the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your breath catches in your throat, and when your eyes meet his, you try to look away from the intensity, but you can’t.

No matter how foggy your vision becomes with tears, no matter how badly your hand trembles against his chest, no matter how hard it is to breathe with him looking at you like that—you can’t look away.

“I check my phone every five fucking minutes when we’re apart, just to see if she’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about her.”

Jungkook’s figure becomes a watery, blurry blob because you refuse to blink, as if the millisecond that your eyes are closed will somehow cause you to miss something crucial.

“She’s the first person I think of when I open my eyes in the morning,” he says quietly, “and the last when I fall asleep. I’m reminded of her by every single fucking thing. Even a stupid little toy figurine that looks nothing like her.”

At that, something inside you snaps, and without a second thought, you shove his hands away from you. Before he can react, your hands slide up to the back of his neck, pulling him down and pressing his mouth firmly against yours. Your eyes fall shut at the warmth of his lips, and then it happens.

Bursts of color explode behind your closed eyelids, vibrant and electric, filling every corner of your mind.

A surge of relief sweeps through your veins, washing away every single thing that came before this moment in a wave of perfect clarity.

Your fingers tighten their grip on the back of his neck, feeling his surprise blend into pure pleasure. His hands slip to your sides as he pulls you closer, every muscle in his body loosening as he melts into the kiss. It’s warm, soft, sweet. Your mouths are closed, eyes shut, simply savoring the feeling of being with the person you care about most in the entire world.

You’re happy. You’re relieved. And for the first time in the last eight days, you’re not confused in the slightest.

"Any guesses?" Jungkook murmurs against your lips as you pull back slightly for air.

You laugh through the tears that had spilled out before you kissed, as his hands lift from your hips to brush them away. "Hmm," you hum, leaning into his hand on your face, "Jia?"

“Ooh, close…” He squints teasingly with a smirk, his thumb swiping away a tear that had fallen to your pouty lip. “Just think, like, five times less bitchy and ten times hotter.”

A watery laugh escapes you, and you fall forward, resting your forehead against his chest. You sniffle and shake your head. “I can’t believe you just confessed your love for me in Yoongi and Jia’s bedroom.” Jungkook’s soft chuckle fills the room, making your heart flutter. “That’s such a you thing to do,” you add as you pull back to look up at him.

“You’re not wrong,” he replies, his smile softening as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

His hand finds yours, and he glances toward the door, a faint awareness in his eyes. He’s not sure how many songs have played while you’ve been holed up together, but it’s been long enough to raise suspicion. “C’mon, bug,” he murmurs, gently tugging you toward the door.

But your brows knit together as he tries to lead you out. “What?”

Jungkook turns back, his expression relaxed and a little curious. “Hm?”

“I—” You pause, caught off guard by how casually he seems ready to move on. “You don’t want to talk about… things?”

His eyes glimmer with amusement as he steps closer. “Things?”

“You just told me you’re in love with me, and kissed me, and—"

“You kissed me,” he teases softly, his lips quirking up when you glare at him with the cutest, slightly swollen pout.

“You don’t want me to… say anything? To say it back?” you ask quietly, letting him take your other hand into his hold so he has both of them, tugging you a little closer.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes track the movement, unable to forget the way they felt against yours. He’s so close now that the heat of his body warms the space between you, the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of the cigarette he had on the drive over swirling around you.

“I didn’t tell you for something in return, bug,” he says gently, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “I told you because you wanted to know,” he adds with a slight shrug, “and because I wanted you to know.”

The simplicity of his words takes you by surprise. There’s no pressure in his gaze, no expectation. Your heart aches in a way you’ve never felt before.

“And if I want to say it back?” you whisper, eyes looking between his.

Jungkook does the same, looking for any trace of uncertainty in yours before asking quietly, "Do you mean it?"

“More than I think I even understand,” the words tumble out before you can second-guess them.

"Then say it."

“I’m so in love with you, Gukkie,” you whisper instantly, as if it were a command, “I thought I knew what love was, but… you’re love. Everything about you, everything you do is love.” Jungkook swallows hard, his thumbs still tracing softly over your knuckles. “We’re still so young, and there’s so much more to do… But I want to do it all with you.”

“Fucking hell, bug,” he mutters under his breath before his lips crash back into yours.

This kiss is deep, urgent, like he’s trying to tell you something through it.

And, god, Jungkook had always been a good storyteller.

Your hands slip free from his, finding the sides of his neck, grasping for balance as his hands slide to the small of your back, steadying you when you almost stumble.

Your fingers curl into the warm, strong muscles of his shoulders, and you return his kiss with the same intensity, the taste of him filling all of your senses. His lips feel warmer, smokier, like everything about him is more intense now. And in that moment, everything else just fades away.

When you part your lips, an ache for more already tugging at you, his tongue slips in like it’s been waiting the whole time. A soft, satisfied hum escapes you, and he mirrors it, his sound a little throatier as his tongue intertwines with yours.

Jungkook’s hands slide over you—your sides, your hips, your back—as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, like he’s afraid this is the only time he’ll ever have the chance. The soft, wet sounds of your tongues moving together fill your ears, and you know that if you have any say in it, this will be far from the last time.

A low groan bubbles in Jungkook’s throat when you press yourself closer to him and his fingers instinctively tighten around your sides.

Then he hears it.

Jungkook pulls back quickly but carefully, his gaze lingering on yours as his hands smooth over your hair, fixing where his fingers had tousled it. His thumb brushes over your shoulder, adjusting the strap of your top that had slipped down again, while his other hand runs along the edge of your lips to fix your smudged lip gloss He licks his own lips to remove any residue and you pout, about to ask if he’s okay when the door swings open.

“Hellooo? What's taking so long? The Uber’s here and the guys are already at Joonie's.” Jia bellows, raising her brows as she glances between the two of you. “Come on, you can pregame in the car.”

Jungkook looks at you, waiting. You nod at her, your fingers brushing against his as you step back, clearing your throat and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Okay, Ji, sorry. We’re coming.”

She just nods, leaving the door open as she turns back to Yoongi, who’s waiting with her jacket. He hands it over wordlessly before leading her outside.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, quiet and searching. “You sure you still want to go?”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, if Jia still wants me to come, it’s the least I can do. Do you still want to go?”

His lips press together for a second, but he nods, his hand sliding down to interlock with yours as you both walk out of the bedroom. He grabs his car keys from the counter on the way, but as you approach the door, a frown creases your forehead.

“You’re not driving us, right, Gukkie?” you ask, eyeing the keys in his hand.

He glances down at you, a faintly amused smile touching his lips. “Yeah, I am, bug. Why? Did you want to take the Uber with them?”

You shake your head, but the frown doesn’t leave. “No, but... you’re not gonna drink tonight?”

Jungkook shrugs lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he lets it go so you can grab your mini purse from the counter and slip it over your shoulder. He reclaims your hand when you’re done, guiding you out of the apartment. “Not tonight, bug.”

The sadness in your eyes makes him pause, and you glance up at him. “Why? Is everything okay? I don’t like drinking when you don't drink.” Your voice softens, lips forming a small pout as he presses the down arrow for the elevator.

He smiles at the sight, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I just wanted to drive you home, that’s all, bug.” His smile turns slightly amused. “But I’ll drink if you want to. You know I’m always down to drink with you.”

Your face brightens, leaning into his side to give him a soft thank you. As the elevator dings open, your phone vibrates in your clutch. You pull it out and giggle at the screen, tilting it toward Jungkook. He rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as he ushers you inside the elevator when it reaches your floor.

[9:57pm] From: Ji HELLOOO???? oh my god get down here. this fucking freak is trying to charge us twice for making him wait like two minutes

The crisp night air envelopes you as soon as you and Jungkook step outside the apartment complex, refreshing your skin and helping to calm your racing mind.

When you had both arrived at Yoongi and Jia's earlier in the night, you received a very quizzical look from your best friend as you climbed out of his Jeep.

‹ ‹ ‹

You extended your hand, waiting for him to come around to your side of the car before intertwining your fingers. Instead of locking the car, he paused, glancing back through the windows as if searching for something.

“Gukkie? You okay?” you asked, tilting your head at his hesitation. “I have your phone in my purse, remember?”

“Bug, where’s your jacket?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he looked over your outfit. He gave the Jeep’s seats another quick scan, hoping you’d just forgotten to grab it.

You shook your head, giving his hand a little tug to urge him forward. “I didn’t bring one. Couldn't find one that worked with my outfit. It’s okay, Gukkie, I'm not cold.”

But he didn’t budge. “Bug…” he said with a sigh, eyes scanning the backseat to see if he had left one of his jackets in there that you could wear. Nothing.

“Gukkie,” you laughed at the way his frown deepened, tugging his hand again. “You don’t have a jacket either, hm. Besides, there’s a small chance we’re even going out tonight anyway...”

Your voice softened, and Jungkook paused, sighing as the urge to drive home and grab you a jacket waned a bit. He pressed the lock button on his key fob with reluctance and let you pull him along up the path to the building.

His free hand slid up your arm as you walked, checking that your skin was still warm. It was, luckily for you, or he would've been plopping you back in the passenger seat to go back and get you a coat no matter how much you complained.

Jungkook knew Jia’s firm stance against jackets and outerwear—always “ruining the aesthetic" or something of the sort. He didn’t really pay much attention to what she said unless it involved you, if he was being honest.

And the thought of you borrowing one of Yoongi’s didn’t even get a chance to settle in his mind before he forced it far, far away.

› › ›

The scene with Jungkook in Jia’s room replays over and over in your head, but there’s a new lightness to it now—a weight lifted, even though you know the lines between you have definitely blurred. There’s more to think about, maybe more to figure out, but as you glance up at Jungkook’s peaceful expression, you find that you don’t mind it right now.

Reaching the end of the path, Yoongi hops out of the car and pulls the seat forward to let you into the back. “Hi, sorry for the wait,” you apologize softly to the driver, offering a polite smile as Jungkook takes your purse. His hand settles warmly on your back, guiding you in as you climb into the backseat.

The driver just mutters something under his breath and waits as Jungkook slides in next to you. Yoongi settles back beside Jia, who’s typing something on her phone, closing the door as the driver pulls out onto the road.

In the quiet hum of the car, you lean back, stealing a quick glance at Jungkook. He catches it, his lips quirking up as he shifts just a little closer, one hand slipping over yours where it rests on your lap. You turn your hand over and intertwine it with his, using your free hand to play with his fingers, tracing over the lines of his pretty tattoos. You rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed.

You can’t wait to drink.

It’s about twenty-five minutes later when you arrive at Joonie’s nightclub.

Jia had managed to convince the Uber driver to let you guys drink a little with the promise of a 50% tip, and as soon as he agreed, she swiftly pulled the bottle of tequila up from beneath her seat. She took a sip and handed it to Yoongi, who did the same before passing it to the back. Jungkook let you take a mouthful before he did, and you each took one more, his shots a little bigger than yours.

As you step inside, the music is loud, vibrating the ground as colored lights flicker across the floor. You spot the rest of your friends by a table in the corner, already clinking shot glasses together and throwing them back. When they see the four of you, their faces light up, and soon they’re stumbling over for hugs and half-drunk hellos.

Jimin is the first to reach you, a bright grin spreading across his face as he wraps you in a tight hug, swaying you from side to side. “Hi, angel! Gah, y'always look so pretty without an apron on! Good to see you—ah, hey, Kook! Get over here, you big thing,” he beams, pulling away from you to bring Jungkook down into an equally enthusiastic hug.

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Jungkook responds, returning the hug and then straightening to stand by your side again.

Jimin stands there, his eyes raking over both of you for a moment before he lets out a sigh and gives something similar to a nod of approval.

You shake your head, laughing as you adjust your purse. “How much have you had to drink already, Jiminie?”

“Not nearly enough,” he quips instantly, glancing back at the group where the others are ushering Jia and Yoongi over to their table. “And judging by the fact you’re not red as a tomato yet… neither have you. Come on,” he grins, grabbing both your arms and pulling you and Jungkook toward the rest of the group.

When you guys reach the circle, you exchange hugs and little hiii, I missed you's until you reach the last person at the table.

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung greets, pulling you into a warm hug.

Blinking in surprise as you pull back, you smile. "Hey, Tae? I didn’t know you were coming tonight. How are you?”

Taehyung nods, his hand resting casually on his beer. “Yeah, been okay. You?”

“Good, thanks Tae,” you reply with a soft smile, stepping back beside Jungkook.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook-ah, how are you, man?” Taehyung continues, extending a hand.

Jungkook takes it, and they do a little bro shake before he settles next to you again. “Really good, man, thanks,” he nods, glancing over the table before turning to you. “I’m gonna go get our drinks. Did y'want a long Island?”

Your eyes light up, and you nod, starting to walk with him to the bar when Valerie calls out, “Y/N! Babe, come take a photo! The lighting is soo cute over here.”

You turn back around, “One sec, Val, I’m just going to grab—”

“It’s okay, bug. I won’t be long,” Jungkook says quietly, running his hand down your arm as you glance over at him.

“Oh, okay.” You nod, looking up at him.

He raises his brows with an amused look when you don't move for a while. “Go on,” he nudges his head toward your friends, watching as you nod again with a cute smile and head over to Jia, Valerie, and Jimin. His gaze lingers as Yoongi takes the phone from Jia, and you all get ready to pose for the photos.

Sliding in next to Jia feels like second nature as your arm wraps around her waist, but as realization dawns, you quickly move to pull back, unsure if that's okay anymore.

Jia just rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and placing it firmly back around her waist before leaning into you. The two of you settle in for the shot, and you smile, resting your head on her shoulder as the flash goes off, Yoongi snapping a bunch of photos of the four of you.

Once Jia finally deems the hundred pictures her boyfriend has taken as enough, your little group breaks away, with Jimin and Valerie immediately rushing over to review the results.

You start to follow them but pause when you catch sight of Taehyung at the end of the table, sitting alone and staring at his beer. You frown, looking around for Hoseok and Jin, but they seem to have wandered off, leaving him by himself.

You slide into the seat beside him. “Hey,” you greet, and Taehyung looks up, returning a small smile. "You okay?"

“Hey,” he chuckles lightly. “Yeah, why, do I look all depressed and lonely right now?”

With a grin, you pick up the tiny umbrella from an empty glass nearby, twirling it in your fingers. “No. Just a little alone,” you hum. “Where did Jin and Hobi go?”

“Out for a smoke,” Taehyung answers, his eyes lingering on you for a second before glancing back at his drink. Just as you’re about to ask if he wants another beer since his looks low, Jungkook arrives back at the table.

He sets your drink in front of you, still holding his own glass, and pulls up a chair beside you. “Thanks, Gukkie,” you smile, pulling the cup toward you to take a sip.

Jungkook gives you a little nod, resting a hand on your leg. His gaze shifts, noticing how Taehyung’s eyes follow the movement of your mouth as you wrap your lips around the straw. Jungkook’s tongue flicks over his lips before he takes a silent mouthful of his drink, watching as the two of you chat.

It's not long before Jimin brings over a large tray to the table, all your friends cheering in excitement as he sets it down with a grin.

"Shots!"

“Shit, bug, wait, watch your step, I just—”

Jungkook’s warning doesn’t reach your inebriated brain in time, and you stumble over the step he nearly tripped on himself, letting out a little curse. Before you can fall forward, his arms are already around you, pulling you back upright.

“Gukkie,” you whine, “why did you push me?” you grumble, your cheeks rosy from the endless shots Jimin kept feeding you and the lingering heat of the dance floor you two had been on all night.

Not that you’ll remember most of this tomorrow, considering you went over your limit about two Long Island iced teas ago, but tonight was one of the best nights you’ve had in a very long time.

Jia mostly clung to Valerie for the night, but that didn’t matter—you and Jungkook had more than enough fun on your own. Jimin even took Taehyung under his wing, and the four of you ended up spinning around on the dance floor after you convinced Jungkook to join in too. He’s so good at it, you’ve never understood why he doesn’t dance more often, but he indulged you tonight. And it was so fucking amazing.

“I didn’t push you, bug,” he grumbles back, holding you steady as he blinks, trying to get his own hazy vision under control.

If you went past your limit, Jungkook went double down. He can handle his alcohol—much better than you, at least—but you guys were having so much fun, and he loves drinking with you, so he went all out. When you took a shot, he took two. When you stood in front of him, lifting a cup to his lips with a sweet, urging little smile, who the fuck was he to say no?

“Gukkie, where’s your car?” you ask, squinting up the street, arm looping through his as you both stagger down the sidewalk. The chilly night air nips at your bare legs, but the warmth of the alcohol keeps it at bay as you rest your head lazily on his bicep.

“Uhh,” Jungkook mutters, scanning the line of parked cars as he tries to spot his Jeep. “I dunno, baby. Let’s just walk home.”

You nod in agreement, too tipsy to consider that the walk back to either of your apartments would take at least an hour—probably more, but you don’t care. Right now, it feels like you could walk for miles, just like this.

“Okay, but—” you trail off, eyes drifting as he stops running his hand over the one of yours clinging to his bicep. He turns to you with a little frown. “But what? D'you want to take your heels off?”

You blink up at him, the blur of alcohol softening everything but his face, his features as clear and pretty as ever. “You called me baby,” you say, a wide, drunk grin lighting up your face as you gaze up at him, utterly enchanted.

Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. He glances forward to ensure you both don’t veer into anything, then looks back down at you. “What, bug?”

“You called me baby,” you repeat, leaning your head against his arm with a happy squeeze. “Gosh, Gukkie, I hope I remember this when I wake up.”

Jungkook blinks a little at that, turning his head to face the path in front of him as you both keep walking. Did he call you baby? It must’ve just slipped out. He’s never called anyone that—not even while drunk, as far as he knows. The thought lingers for a moment, but when Jungkook feels you shiver slightly and yawn against his arm, that’s all it takes for him to have his first sober thought since his umpteenth vodka shot.

“Bug,” he says, pulling you to a gentle stop, his gaze drifting over your goosebump-covered legs and sleepy eyes. You blink up at him, a soft, confused smile lifting your lips as you glance around, wondering why you’ve stopped. “I need to get us an Uber,” Jungkook murmurs, rubbing his hands over your cold arms to warm you. “Come sit with me. Gonna order it.”

He looks around for a seat, but there isn’t one in sight, so he guides you to the curb and sits down, holding his arms open as you step in front of him and plop between his legs. Making sure you're settled, he pulls out his phone, blinking hard to try and get the numbers on the screen to stay still enough to punch in his passcode.

You lean back into his hold, his free arm wrapping around your stomach as your eyes flutter shut, your fingers tracing softly over the inked patterns on his arm. “So warm,” you mumble, lost in the feel of his skin against yours.

Jungkook tilts his head a little as you lean further into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. He swallows, his pulse quickening as he tries to focus on ordering the Uber to your place.

“How are you so warm everywhere?” you sigh dreamily, letting your nose drift up the length of his neck, fingers still tracing along his arm. Jungkook’s breath catches, but he manages to confirm the ride and lock his phone, his other arm wrapping around you, quietly pulling you snug against his chest.

"Can I kiss your neck, Gukkie?"

Jungkook’s eyes shut at your words, every fiber in him reacting to you as he swallows hard. “Just a little, bug. Our uber isn’t far.”

The slight tilt of his head is all the encouragement you need, and you press a gentle, lingering kiss to his nape, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows again. Drawn in by the pretty sight, your mouth latches onto his neck, tasting the warmth of his skin.

“Bug,” he croaks, his voice shaky as your lips press more purposefully, your soft touch just a bit more intentional. “Bug, c’mon, baby, not too much. You’re drunk, I—” His breathing deepens as your tongue traces a warm, wet line over his skin, his hands tightening on your sides as he exhales shakily.

Your lips find a soft spot at the base of his neck, and he lets out another unsteady breath, his body responding without his consent. Humming happily, you let yourself sink into the feeling a little longer before pulling back and admiring your handiwork. It’s not enough to leave a mark, just a faint warmth that’ll fade, but it’s still so pretty. You press one last gentle kiss to the spot before turning back around, leaning contentedly back against his chest.

“Thanks, Gukkie. I like the way your skin tastes,” you smile with your eyes closed, settling your hands over his arms around you, the honesty in your words amplified by the haze of the alcohol.

“God, bug,” Jungkook mumbles once he catches his breath, his fingers running lightly up and down your waist as he adjusts the hem of your top, covering you when it rides up a little. “So cute.”

He watches as a soft, pretty smile curves your lips, eyes still closed as you practically purr into him at his comment.

So. Fucking. Cute.

Jungkook rests his head in the crook of your neck, which is bared just for him. Your head lolls back as you sleepily begin to curl into his embrace. “So pretty,” he breathes into your skin, pressing a light little kiss as he inhales as much of your scent as possible.

He’s kissed you plenty of times—on your forehead, your cheeks, even twice on your fucking lips earlier tonight. But he’s never kissed your neck before.

And it’s addicting.

The aroma of your vanilla-creme body wash mixed with the Miss Dior perfume he buys you for your birthdays—fuck. He could lick it off every inch of your body if you’d let him.

But not tonight.

He knows you get extra touchy with him when you’re drunk, and, yeah, he does with you too. That’s just how you two have always been. But it’s usually just longer cuddles, sitting closer than normal, not leaving each other's side for more than a few minutes.

You’ve never done that to him before.

Maybe it’s because, however intoxicated you may be, your brain recognizes the shift between the two of you from earlier at Yoongi and Jia’s.

God, he fucking hopes so.

Jungkook prays that you’ll remember kissing him tomorrow, even if you’re dazed from the alcohol. Because he is too. But, somehow, he'll make sure he remembers every single second.

i hit the fucking block limit >:( sooo nasty of tumblr 😔 the rest of the fic is available in this reblog 🩷

[fastandcarlos]

100% Whipped : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: lando is happy to do just about anything for you, which the other drivers are more than happy to remind lando about too

Lando looked around in confusion as sniggers came from around the room, his fellow drivers all looked at him in disbelief, many shaking their heads as he spoke once again. 

“There are other things we can talk about,” Max told him, smirking across at Lando opposite him. “We don’t constantly just have to talk about your girlfriend you know.” 

Lando’s brows furrowed in confusion as several others nodded in agreement with Max. It was a habit of his, and one he didn’t realise he had either, but the rest of the boys were all too aware of just how much Lando loved to talk about you, to anyone who listened. 

They couldn’t help but smile at how fondly Lando spoke of you, the way his smile turned up and his eyes got brighter whenever the conversation was about you. As much as they loved knowing that Lando was happy, they didn’t need telling quite as much as they currently were. 

“I don’t just talk about her,” Lando argued, but as the others rolled their eyes, Lando wasn’t quite so confident that he didn’t talk about you as much as they all suggested. 

Although he would never admit just how much he adored you, Lando knew that he had been falling hard for you. He loved to gush about you and make sure that everyone else got to see what he saw in you, how kind, caring and funny you were. 

The rest of the paddock knew that anyway, but Lando liked to make extra sure that was the case with all of his stories about you. 

“Every time she’s not at a race you sit and complain that she’s not there and how much you need her,” Oscar spoke up, “she’s all we talk about on a race weekend.” 

“Or when she is there, you refuse to let her out of your sight because you want to make sure that she’s alright,” George added, smirking across at Lando, “you don’t let her lift a finger.” 

More and more stories came out as the boys all interjected with the moments that they’d experienced with Lando, seeing firsthand just how in love with you he was. 

“I’m just being a good boyfriend,” Lando tried to argue once they eventually fell silent, but even Lando was beginning to realise that he went above and beyond, constantly. 

“I think you know how she’s going to spend her day better than she does,” Daniel responded, unable to hold back his laughter. “You used to tell me every day exactly what she was up to, almost as if you knew where she was minute by minute.” 

“Really?” Lando asked in surprise, not realising quite how much attention to detail he paid when it came to what you were doing. 

“You don’t even realise that you’re doing it half the time.” 

Lando’s stature shrunk, sinking down in his seat. “I promise that I’m not as whipped as you guys all probably think I am, it’s not that bad.” 

“You are,” Carlos stated, sending Lando a knowing look, “but I guess most of the time it is quite sweet.” 

“Aside from the fact that you make the rest of us look like terrible boyfriends,” Charles added. 

Lando struggled to hold back his smile, although it wasn’t a competition, he knew that the two of you were a popular couple around the paddock. He felt like he was the standard, showing the others how to take care of your girlfriend properly and not care about what anyone else had to say about it. 

“I wonder if she realises how whipped you are for her or whether she’s just used to it all by now,” Oscar spoke up, looking pensively across at Lando. 

“I think Y/N is just as whipped for him as Lando is for her,” Daniel very quickly argued, “you should’ve heard some of the conversations we had about him when I was on the team.” 

A smile emerged on Lando’s face as some of the boys nodded in agreement again. They were used to listening to you talk about Lando just as much, talking through how amazing his races were time after time as if they hadn’t been there to experience it themselves. 

“Would you guys like me to stop talking about Y/N so much?” Lando asked them all. 

The group felt quite guilty as Lando stared seriously across at them all. They all knew that he meant it, glancing between themselves as their heads all shook back across at him. 

“We’re only messing with you buddy,” George assured him, tapping against his shoulders, “maybe we just don’t need to know every single last detail about her.” 

Lando nodded, smiling back across at George. “I’m sure I can tone it down a little bit, the last thing I need is you guys all thinking that I’m whipped.” 

“Mate, we all definitely know that you are though.” 

He could try to deny it all he wanted, but the boys all knew what he was like. It was something in him that they were never going to change, but as such a popular member of the team, it meant a lot to all of them to see how happy he was with you. 

“Don’t even try and deny it,” Max called out as Lando went to speak again, “wear it with pride, some people would kill to have the sort of relationship that the two of you have.” 

“Do you really think that?” 

“Of course,” Max smiled back across at him, “you know we’re always going to find something to tease you about, you’re still very much the baby of the grid to all of us.” 

It didn’t matter how old Lando was, the boys were all very protective of him, and as much as they took every chance to make fun of him, they’d never let anyone else say a bad word about him. 

“You just continue to do you,” Carlos smiled as he met Lando’s eyes, “some of these guys are never going to even get a girlfriend, so at least you’ve got that over them at least.” 

“None of you can ever mention this to her,” Lando told them all, “do you know how embarrassed she be knowing that you guys see us as whipped for one another.” 

Just like Lando, you were very aware of how whipped he was for you, but if anyone suggested that you were whipped for him, then you would categorically deny it. You knew how much he’d do for you though, savouring the feeling of Lando willingly doing absolutely anything to support you. 

“We’ll keep it between us,” Oscar promised him, “unless she keeps stealing the chocolate I keep in the garage for once the races are finished. If that carries on, I’m making no promises.” 

“I’ll buy you more,” Lando assured him, “just don’t tell her how whipped I am, or how whipped you guys seem to think that I might be.” 

“Just admit it,” Charles laughed, brushing a hand through his hair. “Admit that you’re whipped for her, it’s not like we don’t already know it already.” 

“Will you leave me alone if I say it?” Lando asked them all. 

“We promise to leave you alone for the rest of the night.” 

“Fine, I am 100% whipped for my girlfriend.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[cleo-fox]

Safehouse

Summary: This mission wasn't supposed to go as badly as it has. There wasn't supposed to be a blizzard, you weren't supposed to get snowed in at a remote cabin, and there certainly was supposed to be more than one bed. And none of this would be a problem were it not for your completely irrational, ill-advised crush on Loki.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, p in v sex, fingering, workplace crushes, There Was Only One Bed.

A/N: I didn't think this was going to be the next fic I posted, but this has been 95% finished for over a year and I just figured out the final 5% in the last 72 hours. Don't ask me how my brain works because I truly don't know sometimes. Also, perhaps after you read this, you will think "hey, I would like to read another fic that involves railing Loki in the middle of a blizzard." Well, my friend, then you should read Some Things Are Easier to Say in the Dark by the great @loki-cees-all because not only is there a blizzard and one bed, it is also beautifully written.

You didn’t expect this mission to go as badly as it has.

It was supposed to be quick, one of those tidy in and out things that almost feels routine—or at least as routine as things ever get in this line of work.

No one counted on a fucking blizzard, though.

It comes upon you suddenly enough to feel suspicious—one moment, it’s slate grey skies and barely a puff of wind and the next thing you know, the wind is howling and whipping at your coat and you can barely see three feet ahead of you.

“What the fuck is this?” you shout at Loki, who looks just as perplexed as you feel. “I thought you said the radar was clear.”

“It was,” he says, frowning. He taps at the screen of the device, an overly complicated piece of tech that you’d delegated to him because Tony’s brief training sessions had made your eyes glaze over. Still, though, you know enough to tell that you’re looking at a weather map and there’s absolutely no sign of the storm that’s howling around you.

An uneasy feeling is bubbling in the pit of your stomach and prickling up the back of your neck. Everything about this feels wrong.

“We need to find shelter,” says Loki. You know him well enough to tell that he’s pretending to be really calm and unbothered because he doesn’t want you to know that something’s wrong. Normally, you’d call him out on that bullshit, but the creepy crawly feeling running up your spine coupled with the storm that doesn’t seem to exist has you itching to get inside as soon as possible.

“There’s a safehouse just west of this hill,” he continues, tapping at the screen.

“Let’s go, then.”

The trek to the safehouse is fairly demanding, even though the distance is short. You’re walking straight into the wind, which seems to grow stronger and more biting by the minute. The snow under your feet grows slick with ice and your pace slows to a crawl, though even that doesn’t stop you from slipping.

The safehouse turns out to be an unassuming cabin that’s a little too shabby to be rustic; in the biting wind and dim light of the storm, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You make it to the door and a few minutes later, you’re inside. 

The cabin has been unoccupied long enough to put a light layer of dust on some of the furniture, but not enough to render anything musty or moth-ridden. It is charming in a way that you don’t normally see with S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouses—handcrafted furniture that’s a little rough around the edges, pine board floors, a squat wood burning stove in the center of the room that makes you want to curl up and read a book. It’s…homey and maybe even comfortable, two qualities that S.H.I.E.L.D. is decidedly not known for. It’s a welcome surprise, given how this mission has gone so far.

Loki bolts the door the moment you’re both inside and quickly turns his attention to the windows. 

“I’m putting up wards,” he says. There’s a grim set to his jaw that you don’t particularly like, largely because you only see it when something is wrong.

The back of your neck prickles.

The wood burning stove is not merely decorative—it’s the cabin’s only heat source. There are a few places that are intended to blend in no matter what—you suspect this is one of them. You manage to get a fire going and you settle yourself in front of it while Loki works. You know enough to not interrupt him, even though you feel like you’re about to bubble over with questions.

It takes him a while to finish warding all the windows and you notice he shuts the curtains for each one once he’s finished, which sends another chill up your spine. When he finally joins you by the fire, he looks a little tired.

“So, I take it you can’t just magic that storm away or something,” you say, with a casual sort of tone that sounds strained even to you.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he says, which you sort of expected. The set of his jaw is still tight. “And even if it did, this isn’t an ordinary storm. Someone is doing this.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that impression.” You pause, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. “Any idea who?”

He shakes his head. “Someone very ancient. Angry.”

You exhale. “Great. Do I want to know what the deal is with the curtains?”

“We should not look outside after the sun sets.”

The skin on the back of your neck prickles. “Why?”

There’s a reason that they call Loki “Silvertongue:” he is a compelling, eloquent speaker. And the somewhat irritating part is that he can do this extemporaneously and effortlessly—he doesn’t need to think about it at all.

So the fact that he pauses for a moment to think scares you a lot. His gaze drifts to the fire, quiet and thoughtful, as though he might find his answers written in the embers.

“Imagine every ghost story you heard as a child coming true,” he says finally.

You don’t like how spare he is on the details, but an icy chill works its way up your spine and you get the eerie sense that someone is listening. Suddenly, you don’t feel like asking any more questions.

“Okay,” you say softly.

*

Being in close quarters with Loki is…something.

There was a time early on, back when you first started working together when you thought something could maybe happen between the two of you. It was hard not to—Loki is attractive, certainly, but he has a particular magnetic quality that can make a stadium full of people think that he’s talking just to them (incidentally, this is also one of the qualities that gets red flags and warnings added to his file at S.H.I.E.L.D.) When you experience that up close, well…it’s intense, to say the least. It becomes easy to believe that his smiles mean something more, that he sees something intriguing in you.

Your feelings for Loki aren’t exactly a crush, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Crushes are silly infatuations that make people do incredibly stupid things and entertain incredibly stupid hopes. You are a professional with a good head on your shoulders: you know better. You’re attracted to him, but it doesn’t matter because nothing is going to happen.

Perhaps more importantly: Loki is a god and you are not. You have a good relationship—your banter comes easily and he seems to enjoy talking to you more than he likes talking to the average person—but it’s strictly professional and that’s all it ever will be. The fact that you’ve been working closely together for three years without a hint of anything romantic only confirms your theory. He’s your colleague, nothing more.

Except…being trapped in a small cabin with him is dredging up a whole swarm of feelings that you would have sworn you had gotten over.

And the storm is showing no signs of stopping.

And there’s only one bed.

It’s a fucking cliché, the kind of thing you’d roll your eyes at if you saw it in a movie or read it in a book, but you’re a professional and you’re also not sleeping on the floor. Besides, you’ve both got sleeping bags and it’s a double bed—it’s not like you’ve got to curl up together or anything.

Not that you’d complain if you had to.

Which, again, is another feeling you thought you were over.

The wood burning stove is doing its best to keep up, but it’s still no match for the storm outside, even though Loki’s done something to the logs to keep them regenerating as they burn. You dig out an extra pair of woolen socks from your pack and pull on your fleece over your sweater and long sleeved thermal. You pile your coat on top of your sleeping bag, along with your share of the scratchy wool blankets you’d pulled out of the cedar chest by the foot of the bed.

Loki watches you with the lightly amused look that always feels like he must be quietly making fun of you.

“What?” you say as you settle yourself under the blankets. “Some of us are delicate mortals who find the cold a little uncomfortable.”

“I said absolutely nothing,” he says, though the glimmer in his eyes undercuts his point.

“You were thinking it.”

“Oh, the things I think of would turn your head, darling.”

You know that there’s no innuendo specific to you in that statement, but your body reacts like there is: your heart and stomach do a complicated series of flips that would put trapeze artists to shame and a heavy, familiar heat stirs hopefully in your hips. Outwardly, you roll your eyes at him and focus on arranging the blankets over your legs. 

“I’m well aware that your mind is a kaleidoscope of horrors,” you say. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s horrors so much as—”

You recognize that look in his eye: it is the herald of something wildly inappropriate. And while you’re no prude, the reality is that you’re about to share a bed with him and you will have no outlet for whatever feelings of lust this will inevitably provoke. Time to change the subject to something as far away from sex as possible, which happens to be whatever creepy fuckery is happening outside. 

“Speaking of horrors: why are you being so cagey about what’s going on out there?” you say.

You almost feel a little guilty as the teasing expression disappears from his face and settles into something grimmer. “It’s safer this way,” he says as he sets about preparing his own sleeping bag and blankets.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” you say.

“I know.”

It occurs to you that this is a perfect example of the cryptic bullshit that makes his intentions so hard to read. Is he saying this because he cares about you? Is he trying to prevent problems down the road? All of the above or something else entirely? Nobody fucking knows, least of all you.

You scowl at him and he looks completely unbothered, which is typical.

“I hate it when you do this, you know,” you say.

There’s a slight twitch to his lips that could be a hint of a smile and you’re embarrassed by how giddy that makes you feel. 

“I know,” he says.

“It makes me feel like you don’t trust me or something.”

He stops what he’s doing and looks at you and his face is so honest and open that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Of course I trust you,” he says.

There’s something unsaid in his expression and you’re not quite sure what it is, but it leaves you with a warm glow in your chest.

“Okay,” you say softly.

For the briefest of moments, the difference between god and human doesn’t feel so impossibly vast.

But it’s only a moment.

*

You fall asleep quickly, even with Loki lying so close by that you could count his breaths if you wanted to.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. The wind is still howling outside. Your mouth is dry and you fumble on the nightstand for your water bottle. Your fingers close around empty space and it occurs to you that you’d left it over by the fire.

You lie still, staring at the ceiling. The blankets have warmed up with your body heat and you’re not keen to brave the chill of the cabin. You could wake Loki up, maybe ask him to summon your water bottle to you. You nearly snort with laughter at the thought. That would go over well.

After a moment, you muster up all of your strength and willpower and haul yourself out of bed.

It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, in the end. You pad over to the fire and take a long drink from your water bottle, which turns out to be almost empty. You go to the little kitchen to refill it, idly listening to the wind howl outside.

You wonder if it’s still snowing, if the snow is piling up in drifts against the doors and windows, freezing you in. The thought of being stranded here with Loki is admittedly appealing.

Your brain is still a fuzzy from sleep and you’re a little distracted thinking about being snowed in with Loki and for just a moment, you forget what he said about not looking outside. You reach up to the kitchen window and push the fabric of the curtain aside to see how bad the snow is.

You’re not frightened at first because you only see shadows, but after a moment, you realize that the shadows are moving in an unnatural, broken sort of way, like someone had sculpted them into rough facsimiles of people and commanded them to walk, without really explaining what walking was.

Quite suddenly, they all turn and look at you. Or they would be looking at you if they had eyes. There is simply a void where their faces are, though somehow you can tell that their mouths are open, gaping and hungry, showing all of their teeth.

You feel something hook into the thread of your thoughts, tugging and pulling at your mind. The world tilts on its axis and there’s a sharp and white hot burning at the base of your skull that makes you cry out.

In the haze of pain, you think to yourself that it’s like they’re trying to take your soul and the shadows grin at you with too many teeth and a hissing, sibilant chorus of voices says, yes, we are hungry. So very hungry.

You know in that moment that they intend to kill you.

You are leaning closer to the window, your thoughts growing dark and murky as something saws away at the thing that tethers your soul to your body and there is so much pain and all of those horrible spindly hands and grinning mouths are reaching for you—

Someone is grabbing you around the waist and you scream because you think this must be the end, but instead, they’re pulling you away from the window and yanking the curtain closed and you realize it’s Loki.

There is a flash of green light and the connection between you and whatever is outside breaks abruptly and the pain retreats to a dull ache, like your body is carefully starting to repair those shredded, fraying threads that the shadows were tugging on. 

Loki’s eyes are wild and he looks at you like he half expects you to disintegrate or melt into the shadows. You are suddenly shaking so badly that your legs start to buckle.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you say through chattering teeth. The cold you feel is bone deep and unnatural. “F-f-forgot.”

“Foolish girl.” He says it without malice, almost with affection, though his face is drawn tight with something like worry. Your legs are about to fail you, but he’s right there before they can, scooping you up into his arms like it’s nothing.

You snuggle up against his chest almost automatically, your body instinctively seeking out heat. “S-s-s-sorry, c-c-c-cold,” you manage to squeak out.

“I know,” he says and it almost sounds gentle. He is carrying you across the room and climbing back into bed with you in his arms, drawing the pile of blankets and sleeping bags over the two of you. 

The wind howls and you shudder, realizing for perhaps the first time that it may not be the wind making those noises. Loki stiffens, his grip on you tightening. 

“Did you see their eyes?”

You shake your head.

You feel some of the tension leave him, though not all.

You have so many questions, but that unnatural, bone deep cold is making you sluggish and sleepy and your teeth are chattering so hard you wonder if you’d even be able to speak at all.

“You need to rest,” he says. The cold feels like the sort of thing that could easily claim you while you sleep and he must see that fear reflected in your eyes because his expression softens ever so slightly. “Rest. I’ll keep you safe.”

You don’t like how quickly that line melts you. You tell yourself that it’s only because you’re so cold and tired, but you know that’s not entirely true. 

You allow your head to drop to his chest and he readjusts his grip on you, smoothing one hand against your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head. You try to catalog all of the different senses—the way he smells like snow and pine, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you—but sleep is pulling insistently at your eyelids and you find yourself struggling to stay awake.

“Rest,” he says, and this time it sounds like a command.

Your eyes slowly slide shut and sleep finally claims you.

It seems like you sleep for a long time. Your dreams are strange and unsettling and have an odd sort of veneer, like they’re real but not quite. 

The first time you wake up, it’s because of a nightmare. You are back at the window and the things outside are threading their fingers underneath the panes, reaching for you with their spindly hands, clacking their too sharp teeth. You don’t know where Loki is and you’re trying to back away as they reach for you, and one of them is wrapping its fingers around your wrist and you can see its eyes and—

You thrash out in your sleep and gentle hands are soothing you. You wake abruptly, shaking, blearily looking up at Loki’s face.

“They—they were coming for me,” you manage to sputter out.

“Shh.” Loki is stroking your back. “You’re safe. I won’t let them harm you.”

Your pounding heartbeat takes a moment to settle, but the gentle pressure of Loki’s hands on your back calms you slightly. There’s a tenderness in his actions that you don’t necessarily expect, but it also feels so right and natural that you wonder how you could have ever been surprised by it.

“What are they?” you ask.

“That’s an answer for daylight, love,” he says. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

You want to protest and push for answers, but you’re so very tired and he’s smoothing your hair again and you can feel exhaustion tugging at your eyelids, ready to pull you back under.

“I’m holding you to that,” you manage to mumble at him. “I’m not going to forget.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Sleep, darling.”

You fall back under.

Your dreams are still wild and strange this time around. You wake again a few hours later, teeth chattering and tears streaming down your face. Loki wraps you even more tightly in his arms, drawing more blankets over the two of you, conjuring an additional pile of furs. You try to tell him to save his magic for the wards and the fire, but he hushes you and mutters something about how that’s not exactly how it works, even though you’re pretty sure it is.

You sleep again.

You have a half memory of him quieting you and pressing his lips against your forehead, but you’re not quite sure if it’s real or wishful thinking.

When you wake again, it’s still dark and the wind is still howling. The cold has retreated somewhat—it’s not as sharp, not as biting, but you still need the warmth of the blankets and Loki’s arms to keep it at bay.

You’re a bit more clearheaded now, so there’s part of you that feels a little embarrassed about what happened. It was a stupid mistake. Rookie level. You know better.

“Are you awake?” Loki’s voice rumbles pleasantly against your ear.

“Sort of.” You hope he continues holding you. You’re not quite ready to give up his warmth or his arms just yet.

“How is one ‘sort of’ awake? Either you aren’t or you are,” he says.

“I’m very talented,” you say. It’s not particularly funny, but he humors you with a soft laugh, more exhalation than anything else.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Still cold,” you say. While it is true, you’re also secretly hoping that the more you emphasize this, the more likely he is to continue holding you. “It’s better than it was, but it’s still bad.”

As if to prove a point, a shudder works its way through you. Loki shifts, rolling over so his body covers yours, pulling the blankets up so they cover your shoulders. It helps, but there’s now a degree of intimacy there that makes your heart stumble in your chest and your breath catch in your throat. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but with his green eyes bright above you, you can’t help but hope he does.

Leave it to him to ruin the moment.

“That was very foolish of you,” he says, his expression becoming serious and his voice taking on that hard edge that you only hear when he’s trying to pick a fight.

You exhale sharply. “Are you seriously trying to do this right now? I told you it was an accident. I was half asleep.”

“I’m not fond of close calls,” he says tightly.

“Oh bullshit,” you snap. “You fucking love chaos, don’t tell—”

“It’s not chaos, it was foolish and dangerous—”

“For fuck’s sake, do you think I’m not aware of that? I’m not—”

“You could have died.” He’s not yelling, but he’s raising his voice and there’s an unexpectedly strained quality to his tone that you don’t know what to do with. “It’s not chaos, it’s not an accident, it’s—”

For a moment, he seems like he might be at a loss for words, and for some reason, this enrages you.

“It’s what, Loki?” you say with more venom than you intend. “Please enlighten me, since you’re such a fucking expert.”

You’re not quite sure what line you’ve crossed, but you think it must be an important one based on how angry he looks.

“You truly are infuriating,” he says. “You nearly get yourself killed and you have the audacity to speak that way to me after I save your life!?”

And before you can say a word, he brings his mouth down on yours in a bruising kiss.

His tongue sweeps past your lips, seeking out yours, demanding and hungry. Your response is reflexive and instinctive, your lips parting, tongue meeting his. You return his kiss, even though you’re still a little mad at him and he’s maybe still a little mad at you. But his mouth loses that hard edge as you kiss him back, his touch turning softer, more tender, but still urgent and wanting.

“Do not scare me like that ever again,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you in between words, each pause punctuated by the soft caress of his lips, the silky warmth of his tongue. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”

You are astonished and somewhat perplexed. “I…I didn’t even know that you…that you wanted this—“

“Darling, I have thought of little else.”

His mouth covers yours again and you are drowning in the feeling of him. The cold that has settled in your bones is melting like snow in springtime. You move your hands along his shoulders, tentative at first, then a little braver. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and smooth it is. He deepens the kiss, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheekbones. 

It’s dizzingly good and you want more. You need more. You arch against him in a clear invitation, reveling in how perfectly his body fits against yours. He sighs and presses back against you briefly before pulling away.

“You should rest,” he says, his voice slightly strained. “You experienced some very powerful magic—I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“I won’t,” you say, tugging him back down to you. He allows this for a moment, his hands cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss with toe curling intensity.

And then he draws back.

“You really do need to rest,” he says.

You shake your head. “I need you, Loki.”

His lips and tongue are just as insistent as yours when you pull him back into a kiss. You can feel him growing hard against your thigh and when you wrap your legs around his waist and rock your hips against him, he groans and nips at your lip before withdrawing again.

“Darling,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“I can stay on my back,” you say.

“Appealing as that is, you’re rather ignoring my point.”

“And you’re ignoring mine,” you say, rolling your hips again. His eyes close for a moment as he presses back against you, his hand sliding along your thigh. Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down into a kiss that he returns without protest.

You catch his lower lip between your teeth and he sucks in a deep breath as he grinds his hips against you.

“Please,” you breathe. “I need you so bad.”

He groans as he lowers his head to the column of your throat. “I’m trying to keep you safe and you’re tempting me like this.”

“Touch me and tell me I need to rest more than I need you.”

It’s a bold thing to say and your heart pounds with anticipation as you feel him nip at your collarbone. His hand pauses at your hip, so close to where you need him. You wait a moment and then take his hand in yours and guide it underneath your waistband and between your legs. He lifts his head, gaze snapping to yours and the moment that his fingers graze your slickness, you know that you’ve won.

“Oh, you’re dripping,” he says, his voice dropping and his eyes darkening with lust as his fingers swipe across your clit.

You’re tempted to tell him that you told him so, but this still feels so fragile and tenuous that you settle for a more flattering truth: “Loki, I need you.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He shifts on top of you so that you feel the hard press of his cock against your hip.

“Same thing that you’re doing to me,” you say. “Which is why I need you to fuck me.”

He sighs, but his fingers don’t stop moving. “You really ought to rest.”

“I can stay on my back,” you say. “You can take me really slowly and gently. Think about how good that will feel.”

“Darling,” he says. You can see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes and you know that you’ve almost won. You feel your orgasm starting to coil like a snake in your belly and you moan, rocking your hips with his hand.

“Loki.” You lick your lips. “Don’t you want to feel me come on your cock?”

You know the exact moment he gives in—you see it in his eyes. Less than a second later, he’s sliding one long finger inside of you and curling it just right.

“Not before I finish what I started.” His voice is a low growl.

“Yes,” you breathe, letting your head tip back against the pillow. “God, that feels so good.”

“I can feel you trembling,” he says, his voice rough. “Are you going to come for me already? I’ve barely touched you.”

“I told you: I need you,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening in a very attractive way. “You’re not getting pert with me, are you?”

There’s a particular tone to his voice, a sternness that makes you shiver. Something to explore later, perhaps—right now, you need him too badly to play games.

“No, just trying to emphasize that I need you.”

“Are you really that desperate for me? Do you really need me that much? Surely you could touch yourself, surely you don’t need me that badly.”

You know that he’s saying that to amp you up, to tease you. But you are also so desperate to come that the idea of not having him is beyond comprehension.

“I do,” you say, a bit of desperate note making its way into your voice. “I need you, Loki, I need to come for you, need you to fuck me, please don’t make me wait, please, please, please—”

He stops your mouth with a kiss as he eases a second finger inside of you. “I’m going to take care of you, sweet thing,” he says as you gasp at the stretch. 

His fingers are curling inside of you, his thumb working your clit in small, tight circles that are pushing you closer and closer to the edge as a fantastic pressure builds inside of you.

“Oh, that’s it.” His eyes are dark, pupils wide and lust-blown. “I can feel how close you are.” He brings his lips to your ear. “Come for me and then I’ll fuck you properly.”

Your breath hitches as you reach your peak. “Oh god—I—fuck, I’m coming, I’m—”

Your voice cuts out as you come, pure pleasure blooming low in your hips, your back arching against the mattress as Loki works you through it, murmuring soft encouragement as he watches you shake in his arms.

“You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Utterly stunning.”

You fumble for the waistband of his pants, your fingers slipping over the fastenings. “I need you,” you say, tugging at the fabric.

His mouth curls into a smile, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you quite certain?”

Leather yields to warm skin and you slide your hand into his pants, wrapping your fingers around his cock. He inhales sharply as you stroke him, his eyes turning dark.

“You’re presenting a very compelling argument,” he says.

“Think about how good you’ll feel inside of me,” you say, gently increasing the pressure on his shaft as you move your hand.

“Norns, woman.” But he’s rolling on top of you as he says this and sliding his pants off his hips. He pauses briefly to divest you of your pants and underwear. A shiver works through you during the brief moment when your bare skin is exposed to the chill of the room…and he notices right away, hesitating slightly as his brow furrows in concern.

“Don't you dare stop,” you say. “I don’t care if I get hypothermia and die, I will straight up implode if you don’t fuck me right now.”

He chuckles, pulling more blankets around the two of you as he settles himself between your thighs. “Are you always so demanding?”

“Look, you’ve been teasing me for the last twenty minutes and you’ve been strutting around in those fucking leather pants for a lot longer, so forgive me if I’m a little impatient.”

He pauses above you, his expression deadly serious. “Let's get one thing quite clear, my love: I do not strut.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes and you smirk back at him. “You totally do.”

He lines up the tip of his cock with your entrance. “I walk with the gravitas and stature appropriate to my station.”

“You strut and I know you strut because it’s extremely distracting.”

His smile is sly. “Tell me more about how I distract you.”

“You make me think about doing this with you.”

The tip of his cock eases into you. “Do I? How often, would you say?”

“All the time.”

He sinks in another inch. “All the time?”

“Mmmhm.”

One more inch. “That does sound terribly distracting.”

“You’re still trying to tease me,” you say and he grins and gives you another inch.

“You wouldn’t want me as much if I didn’t.”

“I’d want you always, no matter what.”

His gaze turns serious and he leans into kiss you, his hands stroking your cheek as he sinks into you fully, all the way to the hilt. You gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate him, your legs wrapping around his waist to hold him even closer. He’s still for a moment, his eyes shut.

He opens them.

“I’ve waited so long to have you,” he murmurs.

“You have me,” you say. “You always have.”

He kisses you deeply as he starts moving, slow as honey, sweetness in every thrust of his hips or touch of his lips. He fills you in a way that you’ve never experienced, his cock bumping up against that tender place inside you, making you gasp and pull him deeper. 

It builds slowly and steadily, the muscles of your cunt tightening as he takes you higher. You shudder as your climax builds.

“That’s it, my love,” he breathes. “That’s it.”

You inhale sharply, your orgasm swelling within you, rising, about to pull you under. You ride that wave, your hips rocking with his. You try and hold on for as long as you can because he feels so good and you don’t want it to end, but eventually, it becomes too much.

You keen and he kisses you. “Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and all your muscles tense and release as you come. Loki sucks in a sharp breath, brow furrowing.

“Fuck.” His pace increases slightly. “You’re divine.”

Less than a second later, he’s also unraveling, his expression of ecstasy particularly beautiful in the flickering firelight. Even in the hazy afterglow of your own pleasure, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly spellbound.

As soon as he catches his breath, he kisses you deeply and slows to a halt, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

“I don’t want to say I told you so—” you start.

“That’s a lie.” His reply is prompt and accompanied by another deep kiss.

You smile against his lips. “Okay, maybe I did want to say I told you so.”

“Better.”

You feel pleasantly loose and sleepy, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. He seems to notice your fatigue and raises an eyebrow. “Is this the part where I say I told you so?” he asks as he slowly eases out of you.

“Mmm, but it was so worth it,” you say. “So I’m basically right.”

“That’s not how that works,” he says.

“I’m not listening to you,” you say. “I need to recover my strength.”

“Now you’re just being pert.” He shifts to his side and draws you close so he’s spooned up against your back.

“You like it,” you say, barely stifling a yawn.

“Mmm, I do,” he says, drawing the pile of blankets back over you both. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah, but don’t go anywhere.”

You feel him smile as he presses a kiss against the back of your neck. “I don’t intend to.”

“Good.”

You both fall asleep like this, wrapped around each other, warm and safe from the storm outside.