#never mind the fact that his little blanket fort is RIGHT NEXT TO IT. it needs to be my jacket

[basi-boy]

his jacket now.

[themareverine]

Top Eight | worst!Logan x namelessfem!OC

warnings: mentions of sex, body insecurity, weightloss, confidence issues, domestic bliss and fluff, namelessOC has blue eyes.

a/n: in celebration of me discovering I've dropped eleven frickin' pounds off the BMI chart, I decided to share the news with Logan, and yourself. please enjoy my domestic fantasy. this really isn’t a drabble but I’m classifying it as such.

There’s little better God has created in the world than coming home to a house alive with music, laughs, and the thick swirl of joy chasing the air. Fall hangs out the window in a tapestry of orange leaves, skittering to the ground on chill winds, cluttering the sidewalk like ill-fitting, everyone’s-a-little-different puzzle pieces.

Blankets of fog have hung in the air every morning. Leaves and grass are wet, burdened with thick, cold mud that stings—the type of cold that sinks all the way down to bone, should you be standing between it. And Logan tries to remember a time when, as a child, he didn’t care about the frigid mud between his toes—didn’t mind the mess, innocence of childhood wrapped up in exploration and whimsy.

Simpler times. Suburban life greets him at the door of what, at one point in his life, would be knife’s edge unfathomable—a duplex. Butter yellow with little white trim around the windows. Big oaks in the front and back yard, primly divided by white privacy fences so tall they challenge heaven. Summer had proudly boasted a colorful troop of flowers in that window box facing the street, the one that allows for the smallest peek into his small kingdom, if you looked hard enough. Prepared for winter, adirondack chairs have been swept away into the garage, all traces of outside living shut up for the Goliath of winter that looms with each passing day. 

The corner of his mouth tips up at the arrangement proudly displayed on the front door. It’s Fall Y’all! hangs in his face, all domesticity. Glitter and pumpkins, a cute little red-and-white-pickup. Evidence of a woman’s touch, more and more. Bearing down on his life like Egyptians chariots forcing Moses against the sea, every day he approaches the house— there’s a little more charm. A little more whimsy, order. More color and life and more her, all things he never in his longest, maddest dreams would begin thinking were missing from him. But now they are so familiar, such welcome soldiers to his little army of living, that he can’t imagine going without. 

And Logan will never not love the fact he doesn’t have to knock on this door. He opens it, twisting the knob that’s cool against the thick callouse of his hand. Jacket heavily draped over his arm, habit knocks his boots against the doorframe, adding to the collection of scuffs already there from the hundred other times he’s done this same thing. And it is the same come-home routine, but he doesn’t mind. Shake his head at whatever seasonal decor greets him on the door. Slip in, knock his boots. Hang his jacket on the hook behind the door, with his keys–next to hers. Because she’s been home all day, working on that frickin’ computer, making her little creative world run in the little ways she does that he’ll never understand. 

About to shed his vest, Logan pauses. Claws on wooden floors from the 50s flick his attention down, to his feet. The ménage à trois of three scampering sets of paws tip up the corner of his mouth into a small smirk, watching the troop of hair, wagging tail and slobber all bull rushing him like cannonballs. And they are not small creatures, by any stretch—a bloodhound. St. Bernard. Doberman, all looking at him with bright eyes as if he’s the best thing they’ve seen all day. 

Which is the farthest thing from true, because she’s been here. Locked up in his Fort Knox all hours of sunshine, doing all the things he’d give his right arm to spend his days doing with her. Domestic bliss. It’s sick, really—kinda insane. For a man who has prided himself the last 200 years on destruction, a man who has traveled through time to claim a world that isn’t his, it’s disturbing that this idea of life is so…saccharine. Perfect. Eden. 

Scratching behind each set of ears, movement in the heart of the house triggers his gaze up. Down the corridor to the kitchen, where he cal all but taste what’s for dinner. It floods him with a warmth he can’t quite put a finger on, rousts something in his guts that is good. Fire that’s delicious, heat that promises. Standing, he manages off his boots, all three canines looking at him. Expressions cocked, they wait. Expectantly. 

“Where is she, fellas? Mama ‘round somewhere, huh?” A flick of his hand beyond them sends the troop off like a shot—slipping and sliding on the pretty rugs she’s laid out in the foyer, sending them against the walls in fat piles of fabric that makes his eyes roll. On socked feet, he fixes them. She likes them pretty and neat, and if she likes it, well—whatever his girlie wants, she gets. 

About to call for her, he doesn’t expect the slingshot of curl that attacks him from the front room, “Hi, babe!” Out the french doors like a racehorse, her girlish smile and bright eyes assault him less than seriously, bouncing laughter loud and fresh and strong, like mountains on an open-sky day. Very suddenly the events of his day are improved, work all but forgotten as she wraps her arms around his middle. Rests her chin against his chest, looking up at him with the full weight of the universe hanging in her eyes. In heartbeats, she manages to change another Thursday into the Thursday—the Thursday to challenge all others even known to his existence.  

And since he’s known her, that’s what she is–changing. A fresh wind, moving clouds and rearranging the sky. Rivers that carry him away to faraway lands, anywhere that isn’t the onyx abyss of his memories, which are so black and white and unalive without her. His hand moves to run fingers through curl, which are still damp from a late-afternoon shower. Color that lingers on her cheeks matches that barely-there smattering of that vanilla protein powder she loves on her lips when he kisses her. Means one thing, his favorite thing—the thing they’d been doing for nearly six months. 

Greeting her with a smile and a, “Hey, baby,” will never tire to infinity. Leaning back against his arms cradled around her midsection, pressing her close, Logan all but craves the sparkle of sapphire hanging out in her eyes. They catch his, holding him hostage—every day he has to rediscover how to breathe. Think, move past the ache in his cock that she somehow manages to produce at a subliminally level just by existing. 

And his lips part to ask her about her day, another part of this thing they call life. Until she reaches around to the back pocket of her jeans, her favorites, the one’s she won’t stop wearing and has at least three extras squirreled-away to that spot in the closet they don’t speak of. That spot next to the neon-colored heels he knows she thrifted but hasn’t ever shared, the lingerie she’s holding onto that’s been driving him itchin’ mad since he’d peeked at it. And while he adores everything about her, her ability to wait for just the right moment to share things she’s excited about has to be one of his favorite things on the planet. 

“So, before you speak,” her finger comes to press against the seal of his lips, other hand proudly producing a folded square of paperwork between her index and middle finger, “I have amazing news. The biggest news–the best news of the whole week.” Her brows bounce, emphasizing her excitement as her low lip curls in. Logan watches her bite the inside of her cheek, thinks it’s just about the sexiest thing in the world aside from the little scrunch of her nose, how her glasses sit a little lopsided from where she’s rested her forehead against his chest. 

Really all he could use right now is another taste of her to make his week, but, he plays the adjective game. “Oh yeah?” A chuckle rattles the adamantium of his ribs as she steps out of his arms, takes his hand to guide him into the kitchen. She releases him only when her socked feet hit the wooden floor, making a show of sliding to a stop opposite the island from him. 

Babytalking the dogs at her feet, his sweet little thing of a girl backs up against the sink, her tongue teasing the front of her bottom teeth as she unfolds the paper. It’s like magnetism, the way he wants her–he’s drawn, like creatures to fire, around the island. To her side. Touching her, breathing in her closeness. And he prays to God it will always be like this—he’ll always want her, she’ll always look at him like he has been carved from bronze. That this little life in Hoboken, New Jersey, never says die. 

“I had a doctor’s appointment today,” the little lilt in her tone is so clear, they’d hear it from Mars if anyone had the brains to listen, “and, I just have to say this, Logan—really. This has to be like, a top eight life moment for me, what I’m about to tell you.” Playing with a dog-eared corner of the paper, her eyes flick up to hold his in limbo, again. Smiling eyes have all but chiseled away any remaining stone of his heart, and he’d gladly carve whatever may remain out of his own ribs and give it to her, should she ask, “And I’ll say this as a warning. If you aren’t nearly as excited about this as me, well—I’ll be forced to divorce you and move in with Wade and Althea.” 

And he laughs at her. His single favorite quality of life since running into what’s-his-face-pool and saving this realm has been the rediscovery of laughing, of feeling beyond the numbness. She made him laugh the day he found her, discovered her like some fool digging around the dirt of the everyday, and she hadn’t stopped. And Logan Howlett has never taken pride in being a hardass, but—his ass is a little less hard, these days. How could it be. Her standing there, looking like she does? Wanting him, seeking him? Him? The damn Wolverine—the worst Wolverine. 

His brow pops to attention. “Is that right?” His finger crooks one of her belthoops, tugging her hip against his gently, “a little harsh, but, I accept your terms, taskmaster.” Her eyes roll to the ceiling and his chin gestures to the paper. After a second of weighing her words, he snags her chin between his fingers and gives her a Really? expression. “Hold the fuckin’ phone—a top eight? You have a top eight list of life events?” He snorts, “And I didn’t know about it?” 

Her eyes flash with brazen darkness enough to shame the witching hour. A firm nod, even between his fingers. Her hip pops out, just a little. “Mhm, eight.” Still holding the paper, she offers a blatantly over dramatic look of desire, her head tipping back just a little as she brushes close. Done-up nails gently graze through his facial hair, before she flashes him eight—a palm, thumb and index finger somehow still managing to hold the paper keeping him in suspense. 

Beginning to tick off fingers, he listens with amusement. Driver’s license, college. Her first publication as a freelancer. Her first car payment. Paying off her student debt, meeting her idol, Charles Xavier, a man who’s work on mutant and human coalitions she’d been devouring since forever. Meeting him, marrying him and buying a house. Technically that was nine, but, she explained—a bunch of life events landed under the Logan tab, which made him chuckle and shake his head. 

“Finished?” He nods to the paper again. “You gonna tell me this life changing, top-eight news or what?” For a second his heart does an all-stop as she nods, the corner of her lip tucking in under her teeth.

From here Logan can taste the adrenaline in her blood, the joy—the buzz of something pumping through her like a pistoning locomotive, charting new territories. And before he can think, before he can bridle his own wagging tongue, “You pregnant, darlin’?” punches off his tongue like a cage fighter.  

Two things he should’ve known off the shot—pregnancy announcements usually involved a piss stick, not paper. Two, that something so mountainous would not have waited for him to breeze through the door. Not her style, not by a country mile—she’d stopped off at his job site with lunch just to announce the last payment on her student debt, complete with cheesecake and those cute little pocket bottles of Jack Daniels. She made a big deal out of everything, and he wouldn’t have –could not survive– it any other damn way. 

Slackjaw, for a second he thinks the hinge of her jaw might start swinging before she hauls off to slap his shoulder, the rings on her fingers passing by in a blur of turquoises, yellows, oranges and silvers as a squealing, “Logan!” shoots out of her like the fountain of youth—makes him laugh, again, as he grabs her hand in his and hauls to his lips. Presses a kiss to the heel of her palm, “No, Wolvie—haven’t managed to knocked me up quite yet, thanking you.” And that name—it punches the wind right out of his lungs, sends every ounce of mutant fucking blood right to his cock, all at once. 

It’s not a serious thanks, he knows. Been off-the-cuff talking about getting pregant for a handful of months, tossing the idea back and forth. It was the reason behind the duplex, family planning—and he hadn’t fought the idea of redoing the spare room. Shoving her office into the corner of their suite. It’d been a year, she was thirty, now, had been ringing off these walls like a canyon echo. Biological clock ticking off the walls of her womb, apparently, even though she didn’t fucking age—thanks to mutation, his mutation left behind in her blood a lifetime ago. 

Source of one too many arguments back and forth, they hadn’t quite decided to make an effort not to get pregnant. An ugly IUD hung between them like unscalable Mount Olympus. Hands up in surrender, he tries not to chuckle as she plants the paper in between them, in both hands. Sapphire blues cast down to it, triggering his attention downward as well. A heartbeat before her head pops back up, all smiles and piglet pink cheeks. 

“Guess who just knocked eleven points off the BMI chart?” And there it is.

Certainly a different tone of subject than the one before, Logan can’t help the look of surprise that smacks across his face—she is all but giddy. Pressing the paper to her chest, she rising on toes and begins to bounce, like a rabbit, up and down in a way that springs her hair every direction. Her shrieks of excitement are loud enough to wake the dead, but, he’d have a better time freezing hell over, if he’d wanted to. Spinning in a exuberant circle, the ruckus sends all three of their dogs into the kitchen, bouncing around her like she’s deserving of worship. A goddess. His goddess. 

She’d only been killing herself in their garage gym since they’d bought the place a little over a year ago. Plagued with one of those New Year’s resolutions, she’d committed to exercise like a duck commits to water—and Logan hadn’t ever seen someone try to hard, not in a long time. Never one really faced with the issue of having to maintain physical maintenance, thanks to genetic mutation, a workout regiment hadn’t really ever crossed his mind—natural circumstances kept him lean. He’d been alive for 200 years, could abuse his body any way he wanted, and it just–was. A lucky son of a bitch, but, he’d never paused to consider that it wasn’t that way for everyone else. 

So when she’d all but pleaded for a home gym, he’d folded fast. Like a bad hand. Her body had certainly never been an issue between them—he worshiped every curve, could build monuments how often his mind drifted to just fucking her within an inch of sanity. Each scar, every single solitary divot, right down to the pores on her face. Not magazine beautiful or classically Hollywood, her own admission had almost gutted him. 

A girl-next-door, down-to-earth pretty sent him to pieces in ways that Logan would sooner carve out his open spine than share—she ravaged him. Like a dog, licking at the marrow of his bones. The weight of her eyes alone, cutting through his misgivings, trailblazing his insecurities as a man. She was perfect in every phenomena, every realm and bend of time. Designed for him, by Christ Himself—the most gorgeous fucking thing on two legs, he didn’t need billboards or Vogue or the silver screen to set standard yet untenable to the majority. Determined long ago that there’d never be another for him, that he could never love any other soul–worship anatomy—quite like he did her. 

He’d never complained. Hell thrived with such foolishness. He bought the gym equipment, though, mostly because he knew in the long run, it would be better. If not for him, then for her—he was happy. HEr happiness may as well have been the air his body craved. He’d set up the gym on a weekend, learned to park his Jeep outside. Had learned to help her bandage injuries and balance proteins and carbs, listened to her cry over numbers on a tiny scale that didn’t really matter. But, never complained. 

And Logan had noticed the change about her anatomy—the little definitions of curve, the way she moved. She didn’t always, but he knew—when he held her close, made love to her. Difference, even in its smallest form, was still changing. Lighter on her feet, stronger when it came to helping do whatever it was she determined to assist with. Her clothes fit a little differently, the line of her jaw a little sharper. But, skies above that was her confidence. 

Always had opposed his reserved and calculated stoicism, a spicy little firecracker of a thing that took what she wanted and could talk to fenceposts. But, she’d always sparkled differently. It was like weighing the moon against the sun—she just sparkled better. Moved a little sexier, blazes a little hotter. Not quite the North Star, but a close second—somewhere in his guts he feared she’d wake up one morning, realize she was hot as sin, and leave his ass for what’s-his-face from the Greatest Showman or someone on television. 

Her fingers curl into his arms as she bounces a little more on her toes, pride all but beaming from the pink dusting across the bridge of her nose. “Me, it’s me!” Childlike laughter bubbles out of her like a brook, hot and alive, and he can’t help the swell of pride. “After eight fricking months, it’s me,” she blows out a breath, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, “y’know, honestly, I didn’t think any of it was actually doing all that much—i’ve only dropped thirty pounds on the scale, which doesn’t seem like a lot in eight months, but–you were right, Lo! It turned to muscle, you were right!” 

He nods, smile growing to a painful wide that he isn’t sure is amusement, or pride. “‘Course I was right,” he stresses, his tone low as he dips his head to brush his nose against the end of hers. Smiling into the kiss she presses to his mouth, he lifts an arm into flex before grabbing her chin between his fingers and taking her full attention, “Don’t get definition like this not knowin’ what you’re talking about, baby.” Lies. Teasing lies. He hadn’t so much as thought of a fucking dumbbell since that time before some God-forsaken war. 

Pouty lips pull her eyes back to his, and he can see the muscle in her jaw tick with the effort not to grin. Heartbeats, and his arms snake around her middle again, fingers teasing the hem of her shirt. “I’m proud of you, kid,” and he hasn’t called her that since God knew, likes the way it darkens the little flush on her cheeks. “Guess I’d better work a little harder keeping you close to home. Can’t have you skippin’ out on this whole little domestic thing we’ve got going,” he shrugs a shoulder, “what would the dogs do without you?”

Giggling again, her shoulders pop up and down in a little happy shift, he takes her arms and guides them around his neck, “The dogs, huh? Is that right?” Her nose scrunches up again, eyes snapping to life as she steps onto his toes, enough for him to shuffle them out of the kitchen, towards the living space, “You think I’d leave you just because I get sexy?” It’s not a serious question, the flutter of low lashes testifies as he stops them in the middle of the living room, toes curling into the plush carpet as her head cants to the side, like a curious puppy. “And lose my bet with Wade? Don’t know me at all, do you, Wolverine?” 

God only wishes. He knew parts of her the world would never. And he smiles, snorting a little at the thought of their entire relationship hinging on a bet with Wilson, the fucking idiot he is. That feels like a lifetime ago, riding life out in a dingy apartment. Blind Al as company, Wilson as a fucking landlord. If he counted back every red cent he’d paid in rent, it wouldn’t be enough for a grocery run—small mercies. Lifting a hand between them, he crooks a finger, chuckling as she eyeballs it for a second, weighing her options. 

“I like to think I do,” and he does. She’s given him everything. And if she hasn’t—well. He can fix that. “You don’t got any secrets left, do you, darlin’? You’ve already seen my soul—only fair you let me see yours.” Tipping her chin up, he kisses her slowly. Angles his head for whatever depth he can pull her from, keens a little when her breathy moan chases the heat lighting up his adamantium skeleton like an inferno. Tasting the trace of that fucking protein mess on her tongue nearly brings him to his knees, fingers carding through her hair for as much purchase and possession he can find. 

“I do have one,” she manages, a little breathless between nipping at his bottom lip and fighting with the buckle of his belt. With a Jezebel shove of her hand, she sends him down to the cushions of the couch—it protests, accepting his weight.

From beneath low lashes, her ocean blues trace the details of his face as she knees onto the couch, swings a leg over him. Pelvis to pelvis, her weight is divine. Lights him up like a damn electric wire. He can feel heat in his chest chasing after the adrenaline in his blood, can taste her, even from here. 

Grabbing the front of her t-shirt between two fingers, he tugs her a little closer. 

“What’s that?” 

She chuckles, shifting a flirty shoulder. “My IUD? Gone,” she snaps her fingers, biting the corner of her lower lip. Eyes cutting to his mouth, she doesn’t hesitate–a heartbeat and she’s kissing him deeply, milking every little ache and moan creeping up the back of his throat. She sighs a little when his hand presses against her womb, thumb tracing the gentle spot beneath her belly button. “How’s that make you feel, Wolvie honey?” A light, flustered chuckle as he tucks hair behind her ear, rubs a curl between his fingers.

“Think you can handle a mini you making a mess of the world?” 

Knocking his head back over the edge of the couch, his hands find her waist. Stills her before he closes his eyes, relishes the way she lathes her tongue along his pulse. And he’ll never know how it really makes him feel, because feeling is all but a rush of adrenaline when it comes to her—everything and nothing, a floating abyss of pleasure and home that, from the beginning of time, man has tried to describe. It’s all wrapped up in limbo, though–limbo and his ribs, jeans and a pretty face. 

 “Not sure,” his hand tucks behind her head and he flips them, forcing her into the couch before she can protest—before she and her eleven-points-off-the-chart can challenge any idea other than what he’s about to do to her.

“”Think we should find out, darlin’.”

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 18 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence, descriptions of smoking, ANGST, some fluff, SLOW BURN

words: 13.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 18 ► if everything i said was true, then why am i paralysed?

You and Jungkook spent the rest of Rated Riot’s day off in your hotel room in Manchester.

People kept coming to check on you, including Minjun, who made a hesitant appearance but brightened up immediately when he heard you and Jungkook laughing just before he opened the door to your room. And after the last visitors—the rest of the Rated Riot members, who had accidentally knocked over a lamp and broken the wardrobe door within fifteen minutes of entering the room—had left, you and Jungkook found yourselves alone in the room again.

You both reached a compromise to lie on the bed and talk since you refused to sleep, and he refused to let you out of the room.

It wasn’t exactly a pillow fort that you’d built for yourselves—really, it was more of a loose, cosy blanket hut—but it still brought back memories of the nights you’d spent in your dorm room years ago. And after last night’s conversation, you couldn’t help but think about all the nights that hadn’t happened because Jungkook was trying to do something more for you.

Really, this was all you needed—back then and, as it turned out, right now: some pillows for comfort and Jungkook laughing next to you.

He rolled onto his side, and you mirrored his position until you were facing each other. Suddenly, you both had to strain very hard not to laugh again. But the story that had amused you at first—about Jungkook and Hoseok’s failed attempt to bake a cake for Yoongi’s birthday the previous year, which was another thing Jungkook hadn’t mentioned to you after nearly setting his apartment on fire—had almost faded from your mind.

You were just happy to be in the moment.

You felt dizzy from the vitamins you’d received over the past few days. And from the shower you’d taken half an hour ago. And from the fact that lying here on the hotel bed with Jungkook was almost overwhelming. It felt a little like you had lost an important piece of yourself—just dropped it somewhere absentmindedly—and now you’d accidentally found it, fully intact.

But at the dark corners of your mind, there were worries. You couldn’t help it—not even the star-shaped pattern reflected in his dark eyes could distract you from the inevitability of the Future. And of Consequences.

What did this mean?

All the thoughtful gestures, the well-meaning mishaps, the inevitable insecurities, and the constant presence of his friends that the two of you had talked about last night. And the bet, too.

What would happen next?

You were about to pull away and succumb fully to your anxiety, but Jungkook reached out a hand—his tattoos blurred in the shadows of your dark room—to sweep a strand of hair from your cheek, and you discovered that, despite everything, your body had not relinquished its instinctive response to his touch.

You felt your breath slowing down, your muscles relaxing. His fingertips gently brushed over the skin of your cheek, and the goosebumps on the back of your neck ran wild. You closed your eyes and exhaled.

Five minutes, he’d once asked you. Five minutes that won’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I feel,” he spoke up softly, and you opened your eyes again, “a bit like we’re back in Amsterdam.”

Hesitantly—against his wishes, really—he withdrew his hand and placed it on the pillow under his cheek.

“We’re, uh—we’re very far from Amsterdam,” you replied.

You didn’t mean the physical distance, of course. You meant the moments from leaving the bed in Amsterdam to being in this bed here, in Manchester—with your arm still slightly stinging from the catheter.

“I know,” Jungkook said. You rolled onto your back, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, even though your mind kept shouting at you to look at him. “But I’m scared to leave this room because I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

You pressed your lips together and ran your tongue over them. You wondered if his fear matched yours, or if they were two opposite sides of the same coin.

You turned your head. “What do you mean?”

He observed you for a moment. The lines of laughter hadn’t faded from your face yet, and you looked breathtaking.

He realised that it was much harder to admit things in the daylight than at night. Arctic Monkeys had made a good point.

“I mean, I don’t know if you’ll be okay,” he said. “If—”

“I will be,” you cut in.

He swallowed. “I don’t know if you’ll talk to me again.”

The look in his eyes was hopeful but uncertain, and you turned back to the ceiling. There was something comforting about the smooth tiles above. They didn’t make you feel like your chest was exploding into millions of little pieces, each with his name inked on it.

“I’m talking to you now,” you managed to say, even after your voice broke on the third syllable.

“Right,” he said. “But I mean about things that really matter.”

“Well,” you inhaled, “we talked about a lot of them last night.”

“Yeah, but that was—you know.” This time, it was Jungkook who rolled onto his back and clasped his hands on his stomach. “Things that happened years ago.”

“Yeah, but they’re new to me,” you pointed out.

“Sure,” he agreed. His foot twitched as he tried to find his words. “But I’m—we haven’t decided if that changes things. Not that I’m—I mean—”

“It changes things.”

He turned his head to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I don’t know what to say because my mind is just, sort of… well, I don’t know. What I do know is that I like being here with you, and I don’t want to think about leaving.”

Jungkook thought that feeling this way was impossible.

After the existential fever that he’d gone through—and all the cigarettes he’d smoked to stay on his feet—his chest and lungs and, really, about three-quarters of his entire body should have turned to ash by now.

But lying next to you and hearing you say that you liked being here with him made him feel more alive than ever before.

“I don’t want to think about it, either,” he admitted in a hushed tone, as if he was revealing a secret. “B-but—we—we’ll have to leave, though.”

A small smile formed on your face. “You sound like me.”

He smiled, too. “I try.”

You snorted and looked away. There was a time restriction on how long you could look at him and keep your brain functioning.

“I know we’ll have to,” you said. “But here’s a, um—an unconventional suggestion. How about we don’t do this right now? How about we don’t talk about the bet, or about us, or about what anything means, and just—let’s just not talk.”

He could do that. He could just not talk.

But it would kill him—having five, fifteen, even thirty minutes of ignorant peace with you. That was simply not enough time.

He didn’t just want an hour with you. He wanted a lifetime.

“Okay. So,” he started, scratching a spot between his knuckles, “what do you want to do?”

“I want,” you replied, swallowing your inner disquiet, “not to have to make any decisions.”

“About us?” he asked. The slight hint of panic in his voice made you tap your restless fingers against the blanket beneath you.

“About anything.”

The room lit up as a car pulled into one of the side alleys behind your hotel room window.

“Reconnaissance?” he said—not really a statement, but not quite a question, either. The name of the band that he’d loved so much suddenly sounded like the start of a curse. “Have you—have you decided if you’re leaving?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, almost nauseous from the sudden surge of stress. It seemed like every aspect of your life required your immediate attention and demanded an answer to a crucial, life-altering question. It felt like everything was slipping away—and you were trying to catch it all at once, and couldn’t catch anything at all.

You really didn’t want to leave this room.

“I haven’t decided how I’m getting out of this bed,” you finally said, your groan muffled by something thick lodged in your throat. You shifted your body to face him but kept your eyes closed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jungkook. I’m so—I’m just—”

“Okay,” he cut in hastily. He didn’t like the wrinkle between your eyebrows—he preferred the wrinkles by your lips. “Well, look—we don’t—we don’t have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you want to go back to work, we can do that. If you want to avoid me, then I’ll—well, I—”

“I don’t want to avoid you,” you said.

“Okay,” he said again because that was the only word he trusted himself with. Hesitantly, he added, “so… truce, then?”

You opened your eyes. “Truce?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s stop avoiding each other. And let’s just focus on our work.”

It sounded a little like another one of his five-minute promises—driven by the urgency to make it so, to drown out the doubts that this was weak. That it wouldn’t work. That you could never go back and expect everything to be okay without making any real decisions about anything: not your relationship, not your future, not even what you’d do tomorrow.

“Can we actually do that?” you asked anyway—and because you did, Jungkook nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course,” he assured. “We can do anything.”

You needed to hear that—even if it wasn’t true. Even if it was temporary.

Knowing that someone was willing to take the responsibility for a decision away from you was good enough for the moment.

“Okay,” you said. “Truce, then.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk,” you promised quietly, closing your eyes again. “Just not right now.”

You could almost feel the unease settling into a slumber deep inside your mind. It would wake eventually.

All the words, all the feelings—all of it had been left unsaid. Some of it unthought. But it was still there, hovering on the hazy edge of your subconscious, and fighting—the more you resisted—to break out.

But then Jungkook asked if he had ever told you about Taehyung walking in his sleep when he had the flu on tour last year, and all the anxious spaces inside of your chest eased. You smiled as you listened, and you had all you needed—and nothing less—right here again.

The next morning, you left your hotel room feeling a little lighter.

You haven’t fully processed—or adjusted to—the things that Jungkook had revealed to you, but you’d found somewhat of a common ground with him. You could tolerate each other’s presence with surprising ease despite the weight of all the decisions looming over you.

You returned to your duties as soon as you left the hotel. You saw a new text message from Nick on your phone, but you had no time—or wish—to deal with Reconnaissance right now.

At such short notice, the best solution you could find for Jungkook’s black eye was an eye patch. Fortunately, you didn’t have to go far from the venue to find one before Rated Riot started their soundcheck.

Even more fortunate was the fact that the band and the staff all found the eye patch so amusing that they kept making pirate jokes—much to Jungkook’s growing annoyance—and it distracted everyone from your fainting spell and the two days you had spent in bed.

The eye patch was black to match his outfit, or at least that was what you told him. In reality, the only place near the venue where you could buy eye patches was a costume shop.

When you returned to the venue with a dark costume bag, Namjoon happened to be passing by in the corridor. He had no choice but to become an accessory to your petty crime as you grabbed the eye patch and hid the rest of the costume in Namjoon’s suitcase.

There was no reason for Jungkook to know about the rest of the costume, and Namjoon—once he stopped laughing—agreed.

You figured that as long as the patch covered the bandages and discolouration around Jungkook’s eye, it would be okay.

Jungkook, of course, had a different opinion.

“I look stupid,” he insisted when you and Jimin were double-checking the sound equipment. The two of you wanted to make sure no damage had been done to it when the venue staff cleaned up after the flood.

“Should’ve thought about that before you got a black eye,” you mumbled half-heartedly, too preoccupied with the list of electronics that Jimin had handed you. You didn’t recognise most of the devices on the list and couldn’t even read what some were called in the awful lighting backstage.

Meanwhile, Rated Riot’s temporary opening act finished her set, allowing Seokjin to go out and prepare the stage for the band. Expectant cheers from the audience lifted your spirits as you followed Jimin’s list.

Maggie had been the one who secured this up-and-coming artist to open for the band tonight. Her name was Ivy, and she had tattoos of ivy vines all over her arms, which may have been the initial reason Maggie chose her. But as soon as Ivy started to sing, there was no question about her talent.

“Hey, Jungkook!” Seokjin called out ten minutes later, and you glanced up just as he walked down the steps from the stage. “Serious question: what has six eyes, six legs, and six arms?”

You guessed the punchline before Jungkook could even open his mouth. “How is that—”

“Six pirates!” Seokjin answered, and his endearing—and so contagious that it was almost ungodly—windshield wiper laugh made you chuckle as well. Jimin hiccupped and turned away from everyone, presumably to conceal his own laughter.

“That’s it, I’m taking this off,” Jungkook declared in frustration, reaching for the string that secured the patch.

You stopped laughing and jumped up, shouting a panicked “no!” and quickly grabbing his wrist.

He looked up, momentarily stunned by your touch.

“If you go on that stage with your bandages and a black eye underneath, the label will send us straight home,” you said. “I don’t care how much you sweat or how many pirate jokes these guys make. You’re wearing this.”

He pouted, exaggerating his reaction, but there was genuine discomfort in his healthy eye, even if it was drowning in black eye shadow. He knew it would be unprofessional to get on stage without covering up his wounds, but he worried the eye patch was a worse alternative.

“I look fucking stupid,” he said, and to be fair, he did look silly—to say the least. But you had seen him at the soundcheck. When he performed, his make-up and accessories faded against his voice and stage presence.

“You don’t,” you reassured him again. “You’re a rockstar. You can pull off an eye patch.”

He continued to watch you, his pout becoming more dramatic when he scrunched his nose. You felt a smile spreading on your lips. He had looked at you like this on purpose many times—usually to convince you that he couldn’t possibly survive without seeing you right this instant, even though you had to study for exams—and your chest immediately warmed.

You managed to nod again to reaffirm what you’d just said. Finally, he sighed and let go of the patch. You released his wrist and took a step back.

Just then, Jimin emerged from behind one of the amplifiers to your left. You couldn’t see the wide grin on his face, but Jungkook could, and he reached for Hoseok’s drumsticks right away.

“Ready when you are, Captain,” Jimin said and then quickly ducked as Jungkook tossed the drumstick at his head.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, ignoring Jimin’s laughter and allowing Yoongi to guide him to the stairs that led to the stage.

“Do you really think he can pull this off?” Jimin asked you as the band members walked towards the dimly lit stage entrance.

All four of them stumbled over their feet at least once, but you didn’t react—you’ve been their manager long enough to know that tripping before a concert was almost a good luck charm.

“Because I assume,” Jimin went on, “that he was trying to divert attention from his eye patch by applying all the black eyeshadow he has to his other eye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, suspecting the same. “Up close, he sort of looks like Captain Hook and Edward Scissorhands had a baby.”

“Oh my God, he does,” Jimin whispered in awe and grabbed onto your shoulder to steady himself as his laughter erupted in violent waves. “Someone needs to get him a wig, so—so he could wear Captain Hook’s hat, too—with the—with the feather and everything—”

The image finally made you lose your composure, too. Seokjin looked up when he heard your laughter and approached to learn what was so funny. After Jimin panted through an answer, the stage manager joined in.

The three of you laughed so hard that you transcended noise and just wheezed voicelessly like malfunctioning dog whistles.

Suddenly, Jungkook turned to look at you from the side of the stage as he inserted his earpiece. You had half a second to pull yourself together before he lost confidence and threw the eye patch away.

Quickly, you raised your hand and formed an ‘O’ with your fingers to signal that everything was okay—even though you had tears in your eyes and the laughter of the two boys did not help you keep a straight face.

Jungkook had doubt in his eyes—well, eye—but you bit your lip and gave him another reassuring nod. Despite your amusement, you could tell he looked ready. And from this far, his eyeshadow didn’t look all that threatening.

As you watched the intense concentration on his face, it was hard to imagine there being anything in this world that could make him look bad. Neither the eye patch, nor the heavy make-up truly managed it.

Jungkook took a step forward just as Taehyung played the first note on his bass. The audience greeted the band with explosive cries that reached you at the back of the stage.

“I have to go,” you told Seokjin and Jimin while they continued to gasp for breath—because they started laughing every time they looked at each other. “Someone has to make sure the eye patch doesn’t fall off during the show.”

“We should find him a bottle of rum,” Seokjin said, and Jimin threw his whole body backwards as he laughed.

“A parrot,” he managed between wheezes, prompting Seokjin to clap in vigorous approval as his face contorted with near-painful laughter.

You were still snickering when you walked away to watch the show from the venue.

Fortunately, Jungkook’s eye patch stayed in place throughout Rated Riot’s performance. What surprised you, however, was the effect it had on the audience.

Unlike everyone backstage, the fans didn’t find the eye patch funny or ridiculous. They loved it.

Granted, you probably should have seen this coming. When Jungkook took off his shirt in the second half of the show, which had become almost a tradition at this point, the eye patch—along with his tattoos, dishevelled hair and messy make-up—did, sort of, make your breath catch in your throat as well.

But as luck would have it, you couldn’t concentrate too much on what was happening on stage because your friends—bless them—kept giving you worried looks. It was very sweet of them, of course, but you started to feel sicker than you really were.

As the show approached its conclusion, you realised that you were feeling slightly lightheaded, after all. It usually got very hot very quickly this close to the stage, so you weren’t too worried. Still, you decided to miss the last few songs just in case.

You returned backstage just as Rated Riot started their encore. You hoped to have a few minutes alone with your thoughts and a bottle of water. However, as soon as you walked through the corridor towards the waiting area, you nearly collided with Minjun.

You pulled back, startled. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Headache,” he said, holding up his beer bottle as if that was his solution to the problem. “What about you? Do you—do you maybe happen to have a minute?”

You were surprised that Minjun would need any of your minutes at all.

“Uh—” you glanced back, even though the noise of the concert was loud enough to hear without turning around. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained, putting his bottle on the table near the dressing room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paused before turning around. “Uh, first of all, um—are you okay?”

Your polite smile seemed to hide a deep weariness. The corner of your lip fluttered treacherously.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“I heard that’s your default answer,” he remarked sheepishly.

You hadn’t expected that. Unlike Sid, who only asked questions to fill the silence, Minjun observed you in a way that Jungkook often did—with a quiet determination to get you to admit the truth.

Your expression softened.

“I mean it,” you said. “I really do feel better. Just a little dizzy, but I guess that’s because it’s really hot out there.”

“Yeah—oh, can I get you water? A beer?” he asked. You sensed guilty undertones in his offer; as though he wanted to do something nice for you to redeem himself.

“Water would be great,” you said. “But I can—”

“One second!”

He hurried into the dressing room and returned half a minute later with a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, its plastic cloudy from condensation.

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to sit?”

You gestured towards the couch, pushed against the far wall of the corridor. He nodded in response, and the two of you sat down in complete—and a little awkward—silence.

“So, was that… what you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked, unsure what to make of his discomfort as he fiddled his fingers next to you. He looked like he was about to shed his skin.

“No, um—it’s not,” he said. “Uh… I wanted to talk about Jungkook. I meant to do it earlier, but, well, you weren’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to—”

“That’s okay,” you said, hoping to hide your impatience with another polite smile. “Talk to me.”

You took a sip of your water, which was far too cold to feel refreshing, while Minjun collected his thoughts.

“Well—h-he fucked up,” he said profoundly.

You nodded, not quite present in the conversation because you were trying not to open your mouth and hah-hah-hah from the cold water like you would if your throat was burning.

“Sure,” you said.

Minjun looked a little thrown off by the word. Given the extent of Jungkook’s suffering after he told you about the bet and couldn’t convince you to hear him out, Minjun assumed you would refuse to even hear a word about it.

“Sid had a lot to do with that,” he added, crossing his arms and stretching his denim jacket.

You nodded again, still as nonchalant as before. Minjun was a little perplexed.

But really, you’ve already talked to Jungkook—and Luna—about this. Not extensively, but it was enough for you to accept that it had happened, and that you didn’t possess a watch that could magically turn back time and make different choices.

Sid had proposed the bet, and Jungkook had played along with it. It was done. And now there was no reason to scream or storm out.

“He always does,” you said.

“That’s—well, that’s very true.” Minjun looked at the ground. He knew what he wanted to talk to you about, but your reasonable responses had left his thoughts in disarray, and now his mind was throwing random, incomprehensible bits of his rehearsed speech at him. “Jungkook, um—he thinks Sid likes you.”

You were already nodding once more when you froze, frowning instead. “Excu—what?”

“Yeah,” Minjun said, feeling a little more collected now that you finally reacted as he’d expected. “Apparently, he believes that Sid pressured him into making this bet because of that. To sabotage your relationship, I guess.”

You couldn’t help a scoff. “That’s dramatic.”

Minjun arched his brow. “Have you met Sid?”

“I didn’t say it didn’t fit his personality,” you said. “I just said it’s dramatic. And unnecessary”

“Well,” he shrugged one of his shoulders, “those are his middle names.”

“I don’t think it’s true, though,” your answer was quick. As if you hadn’t needed any time at all to think if this was possible. The very idea that Sid liked anyone other than himself was laughable.

“You don’t?” Minjun asked. He didn’t seem surprised by your disagreement. Merely curious to hear your reasoning.

“No,” you said. “If he liked me, he would have done something about it. I’ve known you guys almost as long as I’ve known Jungkook. And all that Sid’s done in this time, is make my life difficult.”

Minjun lowered his head. Those were his first assumptions as well. Sid wouldn’t stay on the sidelines that long. If he wanted something, he went to great lengths to get it.

But on the other hand, if Sid couldn’t get something, he often acted as if he’d never even wanted it, and harboured a deep resentment towards the object of desire at the same time.

Minjun sighed.

“I think I agree with you,” he said.

You turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he said. “I don’t know if Sid ever really liked you, but I think the real problem is that Sid’s jealous of Jungkook and everything Jungkook has. He’s inferior to Sid, you know? That’s how Sid sees it. And yet, Jungkook is in a rock band. He has shows almost every night. He has real friends, real talent, real support. And he has a girl he loves more than anything. All Sid has is money. He probably doesn’t even understand how it’s possible for money to matter so little.”

You bobbed your head in contemplation. Money held such a massive significance in this world. The fact that Sid had it in abundance and still couldn’t find contentment only proved how pitiful he truly was.

“I thought the same thing,” you admitted. “I always assumed there must be some tension between them now that Jungkook is more than just Sid’s friend. Or, really, his sidekick.”

Minjun nodded. “Exactly, yeah.”

You exhaled and stretched your legs. You wondered what Minjun’s logic was, since he knew what Sid was like, but did not do anything to rid himself of him.

“Why are you, by the way?” you asked. “Sid’s friend, I mean.”

Minjun’s sad smile confirmed to you that there was something more here. No one would have willingly chosen to keep Sid in their lives.

“I’m doing a community service to rescue Jude from his claws,” he said in a very serious tone. “And to leave Sid alone and miserable.”

“I admire your mission,” you said with an amused smile. “But seriously. Why?”

He sighed. He preferred the silly, made-up versions of his story.

I’m an undercover FBI agent collecting information on Sid so we can lock him up for good.

I’m writing a book on insufferable psychopaths. Sid is my primary research subject.

All of these made him appear like he had some control over his choices. They made him feel less pathetic.

“It’s a family thing,” Minjun said, closing his eyes and pulling the corner of his lip into his mouth. “I don’t...”

He let the sentence trail off, and you interjected softly, “you don’t have to tell me everything.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s just… stupid. My family—well, my parents—they’ve been business partners with Sid’s mum for a long time. She bought my parents’ company, and they signed some partnership agreement that was supposed to guarantee that my parents retained full control of their business. But, uh, you know.”

“They still answer to Sid’s mum in the end,” you finished.

Minjun clicked his tongue. “Yeah. It’s… they used to send me off to play with Sid, and they would tell me to be nice to him. Because if I upset him and it gets to his mother, my parents are the ones who suffer for it.”

“That’s—that makes no sense,” you said, lacking a better description for something that sounded ridiculous and, frankly, surreal.

“I know,” he agreed. “But Sid’s mum is—he’s her only kid. And she really, really wanted to have kids. I don’t know the whole story—I never cared—but from what I’ve heard, Sid’s parents tried everything they could for a very long time to have children. They have the money for it. Still, nothing worked. And then, all of a sudden, Sid. Their miracle baby. Their little angel. Maybe if they hadn’t treated him like he was king, he would have turned out differently. But his mum doesn’t even hear the way he talks to her sometimes.”

You tsked, unimpressed. “I’m not surprised. Nothing’s sacred to him.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t care about others. And still, his mother is ready to unleash hell if anyone wrongs him,” Minjun said, reaching to brush some invisible dust from his upper arm. “The ironic thing is, though, everyone in my parents’ company was very happy when Sid was born. His mum was—well, understandably, she wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around when she was going through… all that, you know? And I say that respectfully. She threatened to bankrupt my mum after she got pregnant with me and tried to talk to Sid’s mum about parental leave.”

You’ve never met Sid’s parents, but you’ve had the misfortune of meeting Sid, and it wasn’t hard to imagine where he got his personality from.

“Ah,” you said. “So, the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Minjun snickered and shook his head.

“Hmm, it doesn’t. But Sid’s mum found out a few weeks later that she was pregnant, too. And from then on, she was a real saint,” he said. “So, my parents were hoping that I could be the leverage if something went wrong in their business. ‘Oh, but our sons have always been almost like brothers’ kind of thing. That way, they won’t lose all their money if Sid’s mum has a sudden change of heart.”

“Fuck,” you concluded.

“Yeah. They would have gotten him and me engaged, too.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t, actually.”

A small, ironic smile had crept onto Minjun’s lips.

“I’m sure they’ve thought about it,” he said, looking at the bottle of beer he’d left across the room. He’d put it there because he didn’t want to drink if you weren’t drinking, but now he was regretting his manners. “Unfortunately, Sid isn’t my type. My parents had the decency to respect that, at least.”

You chuckled, and Minjun brightened a little, too.

“To be fair,” you remarked, “I don’t think Sid is anyone’s type.”

“Good point.”

You looked at the floor tiles and considered this. You wanted to know if it had happened before—something to convince Minjun that he should obey Sid as much as possible, or his parents would face the consequences—but you didn’t think it was fair to ask him to elaborate.

The way Minjun looked right now, with all colour drained from his eyes as he tried to keep smiling, it seemed like he knew exactly what Sid’s mum could do if her son said one word to her.

So, the two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, while shouts of excitement from the concert echoed around you.

“And, uh—what about Jude, then?” you asked after a minute. “Why does he stick around?”

Minjun didn’t make jokes this time.

“I honestly think Jude just doesn’t know any better,” he said. “He’s known Sid the longest. Their mothers were friends before Jude’s parents got divorced and his mum moved abroad. He just doesn’t know a different life.”

“You mean he’s too used to Sid to see that he is bad for him,” you summarised.

“I think he sees it,” Minjun said, analysing the plaster on the walls of the waiting area. “He just doesn't care.”

“Ah.” You nodded your head. “He needs help.”

“Lots of it.”

“Mmhm.”

That about confirmed to you that Sid had always been the problem. The poisonous leech.

Jungkook saw the problem, even if it took him a while. And Minjun saw it, too. It was just absurdly unfair that there was nothing he could do about it.

And then you wondered if Jungkook could do anything about it. He’d fought Sid and banned him from Rated Riot shows. But would that accomplish anything?

This was Sid. Sometimes it seemed like all it took for him to be summoned was just the mention of his name. He had to be at least half-demon.

“Kind of sad, when you think about it, isn’t it?” Minjun spoke up then. You thought he was referring to himself before he added, “that Sid doesn’t have one real friend.”

You grimaced.

“I’m—not sure if I’d call it sad,” you said. “I don’t think he deserves to have real friends.”

“Yeah, no, that’s true,” he settled. “Still, though. He acts like a king. And all he really has is just paper.”

You considered yourself a compassionate, caring person. But you didn’t think you were capable of genuinely pitying Sid.

“Did you come here to make me feel bad for him?” you asked. “Because if that’s the case, we might be here for a while, and I’m not sure either of us has the time.”

“No,” Minjun said, chuckling awkwardly. “He’s the last person you should feel bad for. I’m just saying… he’s miserable and he likes to make others miserable, too. Especially Jungkook.”

He gave you a look, and you turned away, realising that you were circling back to his original reason for talking to you.

You took another sip of water. It had warmed a little and tasted less violent in your throat.

“Yeah, well.” You popped your lips. “Pretty much everyone who knows Sid knows that.”

“Yeah, and I… I should have found you earlier,” he said, lowering his head in a manner reminiscent of all the times you had seen him avoid your gaze when you entered the room. “Sid made sure Jungkook couldn’t tell you, but I wasn’t—I could’ve told you about the bet.”

“That would have—well, it would have saved us a lot of, uh, time,” you said and gave him a kind smile that was supposed to let him know you weren’t really angry. But Minjun only felt worse after he saw it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked up as he spoke and the regret in his eyes added a deeper significance to his apology. “I was… afraid, I guess. I don’t know how else to—well, it’s not a good excuse, but—”

“I get it,” you interrupted. “And thanks. It’s not really your mess to clean, though.”

He didn’t think it was. Still, he felt like he had let Jungkook down.

After seeing you two laughing together in your hotel room, Minjun hoped that Jungkook had explained his decisions—no matter how backwards they were—to you. So, now it was time for Minjun to say something, too.

“Jungkook, uh… he made the stupid decision to play Sid’s game,” he said. “And now you’re both suffering because of it. I don’t think you should give Sid that much power.”

You contemplated this for a minute and gave a slight shake of your head.

“See,” you said, “I think Jungkook is the one suffering because of Sid’s game. And I’m in this because of the consequences of a stupid decision that Jungkook had made.”

“True enough. He shouldn’t have cared about Sid that much,” Minjun agreed. The pounding in his head doubled as he tried to think of how to phrase himself next. “It’s not really my place to say, but um—I’ve been friends with Jungkook for most of my life, so I think I know him pretty well. He’s—he has always been in love with you. He’s just… blinded by a lot of irrelevant things. And I think he realises that now. He was really shaken up after the bet, and that’s when these things happen, isn’t it? Something massive strikes and it makes you rearrange your priorities. Well, his priority is you.”

Minjun felt your body tense next to him on the couch. He had never said anything like this to you—and Jungkook had never soberly told Minjun that he loved you, either—but it was about as obvious as your warm eyes and clenched jaw.

You knew it, too. You just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“He made a really stupid decision,” Minjun reiterated. “And I think he knew that right away. Except you know Sid. He couldn’t let him off the hook, especially when he saw how miserable this made Jungkook.”

You hummed, incapable, suddenly, of a verbal response.

The shouts around you grew louder. Rated Riot were finishing the final song of the encore—and it started to sound like another band member had removed a piece of clothing.

“The bet and his feelings for you,” Minjun continued, “those are two separate things. So, I just—well, which one of them do you feel upset about?”

The anxiety in your lungs didn’t have much room to spare for oxygen, but the question still knocked all breath out of you.

“I—”

“No, actually,” Minjun said, closing his eyes and drawing back, “you know what? This isn’t something I should be asking you. I’m sorry. It’s something you should talk to him about. When you’re ready, of course.”

You still looked near panicked when Minjun glanced at you, and you hurried to respond in a way that would end the conversation, because the staff and the band would soon join you backstage. You needed another bottle of water before you could return to your job.

“Yeah. Uh, I’ll—I’ll see about that,” you ended up saying, which wasn’t much, but Minjun wasn’t going to push. “I’m, uh… they’re about to get off stage—I—I have to go check on them.” You stood up. You still hadn’t made eye contact with him. “We have an eye patch situation as you’re well aware, I’m sure.”

Minjun smiled courteously.

“I know,” he said. “But make sure to think about what I said, okay?”

“I will,” you said, trying to nod, but your head felt too full. You were worried that if you moved it, all of your uncertainty and fear would spill out.

You had hoped to delay talking to Jungkook about everything a little longer, but something in your universe was pushing against that.

“Thank you,” you said almost as an afterthought.

“Hm?” Minjun raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

“For staying with him.”

Minjun’s eyes warmed as his smile spread.

“He’s my oldest friend,” he said. “Of course, I’m staying.”

The usual lines of people waiting to meet Rated Riot at the merch stand after the show had tripled tonight. It appeared that almost everyone who had bought a ticket stayed back for the band.

You didn’t know if the eye patch had anything to do with it, but Maggie’s Instagram post with preview pictures from tonight’s show, half-jokingly titled “Rockstar Pirate”, quickly became the most-liked post on her account.

However, before Jungkook could go out and meet the fans, his bandages had to be changed. The intense jumping and sweating had not been good for his wounds, and the ten-minute shower after the performance had not been enough to prevent some fresh bleeding.

But that was to be expected. Some of his cuts were narrow but appeared deep.

What was unexpected, however, was his insistence that he was fine. He would just put the eye patch on and head right back out.

“Do you have any idea,” you scolded as you forcefully sat him down on the counter next to the sink in the bathroom of the venue, “what sort of problems I’d have if these got infected?”

You brought the cotton swab over the scrapes above his cheek, and he gritted his teeth as the antiseptic burned his skin. “It sounds like it’d be me who would have problems.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Maybe even sepsis. But I could get sued for not doing my job.”

“Hmm. And if I die?”

“Then I’d have a funeral to plan on top of that, too.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry my death would inconvenience you so much.”

“It would,” you said, pulling back. “So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t die, seeing as I already have a lot to do.”

He grinned, always thrilled to tease you back. However, this time, he took the opportunity when you weren’t looking at him to ask, “how are you feeling?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, equally as determined to insist that you were okay and that the last two days hadn’t happened.

“I’m fine, of course,” you said.

“Of course,” he repeated dryly.

“I really mean it,” you said as you struggled to open the glass bottle of ointment. Jungkook had informed you earlier that the nurses at the hospital ‘had used something similar’ when he went there the other day, so you felt a bit more confident about this procedure. “I got eight hours of sleep two nights in a row. That’s unheard of.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

You finally got the bottle to open. Jungkook frowned and drew back.

“Well, can you be glad without moving?” you asked, approaching him with the ointment and a few cotton pads. You’d hoped the antiseptic had soaked into his skin by now. You didn’t have time to wait.

“Is that even necessary?” he asked, pouting and pulling his head back until he hit the mirror behind him. “This stings like a bitch.”

You were nearly leaning over him with all your weight to reach his face. One of your palms pressed into his thigh as you fought to keep your balance, and Jungkook stilled, but did not shut up.

“T-the cuts are not getting infected,” he insisted. He paused and bit into his lip ring when you exhaled and he discovered that he could feel your breath against his cheek. As soon as he realised that he didn’t actually pass out for a minute there, he continued, “do I really need bandages if I wear the eye patch? I personally think I’m—”

“You’re sweating under it,” you cut him off, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you traced the cuts on his cheekbone with the pad. You continued to speak distractedly, “and it’s a rental, in any case. You can’t put that on a bare wound.”

He blinked and jerked his head to the side, nearly causing you to topple over him.

“Jungkook, come on—”

“It’s a rental?” he repeated, his face twisted in a comical expression of disbelief. “How—how do you mean?”

You sighed. You shouldn’t have let that slip.

“I’m sure they disinfect the costumes after they’re returned, so, don’t worry about that,” you said. “Now please—”

“It’s part of a costume?!” he shouted, but you grabbed the back of his neck with your free hand to keep him in place. He felt a sudden shiver ripple down his spine. “Wait, w-what—a-am I a joke to you?”

The corners of your lips quivered as you tried to resist a smirk. You dabbed the cotton pad onto the bruise around his eye and did not speak until you finished applying the ointment to every cut and scrape you could see.

“No,” you said then. “You’re not very funny.”

Locked in place by your cold hands on the back of his neck, Jungkook realised he did not have any reflexes left whatsoever. He did not have much of anything, to be honest, aside from a severe case of hot, violent wings in his stomach.

“Not very f—I’ll—oh, I’ll show you funny,” he finally managed.

He grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. Surprised—and, honestly, amused—you tried to pull back from him, but found yourself trapped in his grip as he jumped off the counter.

You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh. He tried very hard to glare at you, but his lips were pursed in an obvious attempt not to smile back and his cheeks were tinted with the softest shade of pink.

A part of you was glad, actually, that he was restraining you right now because you weren’t sure if you would have found it in yourself to resist the urge to bring your hand over his flushed cheeks.

After a loaded minute, Jungkook finally released you and shook his head, turning his back to you in a dramatic demonstration of defiance.

“Jungkook,” you said. He could hear the playful lilt in your voice. “Come on, sit down. I’m almost done.”

“I’m wearing a pirate costume!” he protested.

“You’re not wearing a costume. It’s just an eye patch. Sit down.”

He shook his head again, but turned around, mustering as much irritation as he could. You were smiling and he was hardly capable of being angry about that.

“I look like Jack Sparrow’s long-lost, half-blind cousin,” he accused half-heartedly.

He looked almost scandalised when you laughed at this.

“You wish,” you teased, peeling off the adhesive tape from the new bandages that Namjoon was kind enough to buy earlier in the day.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Now you’re going to tell me I’m not good enough to be related to Jack Sparrow?”

You were glad he did not move when you approached him again and carefully applied the adhesive pad to his bruises.

“That’s Captain Jack Sparrow,” you said.

He glowered, but his image crumbled the second he saw your grin.

“You nerd,” he said, breaking off into a soft laugh. His eyes were fixed on you as you gently tapped the edges of the bandages to make sure they stayed in place.

“Hey, now,” you warned, pulling back to give him a look that was about as stern as your tentative touch. “You’re the one who forced me to watch the films.”

Jungkook felt his smile spread—impossibly so. He thought he looked a little like one-eyed Joker now as he remembered watching films in your dorm room. He remembered how the two of you had complained about the slow wi-fi, which kept reducing the film quality to 240p. Remembered pretending not to cry when one half of the couple in the film died. Remembered getting distracted by the look in your eyes as you got immersed in the plot. Remembered kissing you. Remembered making you smile as you gently pushed his chest away and told him to ‘look at the screen.’

And then he remembered where he was now, and the dim bathroom brightened under your smile as you packed up your medical kit.

“Hey, so, um…” He swallowed, watching you walk away to dispose of the waste. “Can we talk, then? Later?”

Your head was still heavy, and you had a startling realisation that the only time the weight on your shoulders lightened was when you were with Jungkook—when you were smiling at each other like middle-schoolers on a clumsy first date.

“We’ll talk,” you said while trying to quiet down your thoughts that insisted that this moment here was a sign. That this was the decision. “When the time is right.”

Jungkook looked almost ready to protest, but then he realised you were teasing him for having said the same thing to you before.

He remembered how that conversation went—he remembered everything and with such clarity that his palms tingled and his heart pounded.

“3 AM, then?” he asked, grinning. “Will you come find me?”

You smiled back. “I’ll come find you.”

When the members of Rated Riot returned backstage after meeting fans, the drinks had already been finished. Everyone was leaving for the bus.

Jungkook knew better than to stay in the dressing room by himself—despite having banned Sid from his shows and being across the continent from him—so he asked Taehyung to wait for him.

Then, as he was unplugging his charger by the bathroom door, his phone vibrated with a text message—from Jude, of all people. Throughout their friendship, Jungkook didn’t think Jude had ever texted him personally, and not in their groupchat.

The text read, “come outside to the smoking area? Sid is fuming bc he can’t enter the venue.. gotta talk.”

Right away, Jungkook felt a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.

He’d kicked Sid out in Cologne. What the fuck was he doing in Manchester?

For a brief moment, Jungkook toyed with the possibility of saying he was busy. He did have to return to the bus in case you would look for him, after all. However, he knew that not answering Sid’s call—because, really, Jude was just the proxy here—could have ugly consequences.

Why’d he fly to the UK? What was wrong with him?

It wasn’t that Jungkook felt afraid of him. He was annoyed more than anything—he’d blacklisted Sid, and still couldn’t escape him.

But Jungkook was afraid of the impact that his inescapable connection to Sid could have on you and your relationship.

“You know what?” he said, raising his head to look at Taehyung. “Maybe you should go ahead without me. There’s something I need to take care of first.”

Taehyung glanced at the younger member’s phone, then back at his face. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing,” Jungkook said as he typed back a “K” to Jude. “It’ll just be a second.”

Taehyung merely shrugged. This reaction was so casual that Jungkook automatically assumed it to mean that the older member was going back to the bus.

“I can wait then,” Taehyung said instead.

Jungkook did a surprised double-take before he put his phone away. He realised suddenly that he was embarrassed for Taehyung to witness whatever would happen in the smoking area.

“No, it’s—I have to talk to Jude,” he said, hoping that the name would deter him, but the older boy stood his ground even more firmly.

“All the more reason for me to stay with you,” he said, making it clear that one black eye was already too much.

Jungkook knew they could continue to argue about this while Sid raged outside the venue. And he knew that if he refused Taehyung’s company again, the older boy might seek you out instead.

“Okay,” Jungkook decided. “That’s fine. You can wait here. Jude’s right outside in the smoking area, so—”

“Great,” Taehyung said, taking the first step towards the door of the dressing room. “I’ll come with.”

Jungkook watched him open the door. “Why? For the fresh air?”

His bandmate gave him a sarcastic half-smile. “To make sure you won’t need a whole blindfold for your performance tomorrow.”

Aware that he’d been outwitted, Jungkook rolled his eyes and left the dressing room with a protective Taehyung following behind him.

Sid, Jude, and Minjun were all gathered in the smoking area. Sid and Jude were standing tall—with Sid towering over the other boys, of course—while Minjun looked more like he was crouching. His eyes were downcast, and his posture reflected his wish to be anywhere but here.

Fortunately, Mick, the head of security, was there, too.

“What’s going on here?” Jungkook asked, his voice surprisingly firm—as if these people had never been his friends.

“This gentleman refuses to leave,” Mick reported, casting a scornful glance at Sid. Sid, in turn, responded by raising his middle finger. “I think that calling the police will resolve this issue faster.”

Jungkook would have loved to see Sid in the back of a police car.

But he was worried that this would only cause you more problems with the label. The executives were okay with Rated Riot embodying the rockstar stereotypes, but they probably wouldn’t approve of any police involvement.

On the other hand... why not get rid of Sid once and for all? If he continued to preach his truth without listening to anyone else, it might do him good to spend the night at the station. And if he was high, too, or happened to have something on him—both were likely, Jungkook decided when he glanced at the pockets of Sid’s puffy jacket—then he might stay in a cell for a while longer.

“Give me a minute, Mick, please,” Jungkook asked, taking out his phone. He’d decided to try to handle this quietly, but he still wanted the option of calling the police.

Mick looked at Taehyung for confirmation—which irked Jungkook, because he didn’t like being reminded of his young age and relative lack of authority here.

After Taehyung nodded, the bodyguard turned back to the vocalist.

“Alright,” Mick said. “I’ll be right inside.”

Minjun raised his eyes suddenly, and Jungkook expected to see relief on his face. He saw anxiety instead. Minjun regretted that Jungkook was getting involved again.

After Mick left, Sid finally stepped into the light from the neon sign above the exit. Immediately, Jungkook started to feel more confident about his eye patch, because Sid’s face was red, black, and blue, and so swollen that he could have auditioned for the role of the pumpkin in Cinderella.

“You have one minute to state your business and get your ass out of here,” Jungkook told him. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

Sid scoffed. Challenged by the doubt in his eyes, Jungkook unlocked his phone.

“I’ll pretend I don’t know that you’ve blacklisted me,” Sid snapped, ignoring Taehyung’s presence—which was alarming, because that had never happened before. Sid typically only showed his true self to those closest to him. Or to total strangers. “But it has come to my attention that Minjun broke the rules of the bet, and I can’t ignore that.”

Of course, Jungkook thought. Of course, he would follow him to a different country, even after their fight. Sid thought they had unfinished business.

“Technically,” Minjun said, “the rules don’t apply to me, seeing as I’m—”

“Seeing as you’re the one supposed to enforce the fucking rules,” Sid finished for him, feral rage dripping from every single word he spoke. “What should I make of that, hm? You’re picking sides?”

“I’m not—”

“Your parents won’t like that, I’m sure,” Sid added because he couldn’t help but always assert his dominance with veiled threats.

Minjun clenched his jaw. He remembered the repulsion in your eyes when he told you about this earlier. He felt himself gain strength from your reaction.

“Grow some balls,” he rasped, “and keep our parents out of the shit that you pull. We’re not in kindergarten.”

Sid narrowed his eyes and took a threatening step closer to him.

Meanwhile, Jude leaned over Jungkook to provide an unnecessary explanation, “Sid knows Minjun gave you back the keys.”

Jude smelled of booze and of something intentionally sweet. Ignoring him, Jungkook kept his gaze on Sid.

“It’s just a bet, dude,” Jungkook said before Sid decided to raise a fist. Minjun had never fought anyone before. Jungkook didn’t like his friend’s odds. “Let it go.”

Sid turned his head in what seemed like dramatic slow motion.

If there was a worse thing that Jungkook could have said, he hadn’t found it yet—Sid looked about ready to bite his head straight off and tear it into little pieces before feeding the remains to baby cheetahs or whatever scavengers he undoubtedly raised in the backyard of his family’s mansion.

“That narrative works out awfully well in your favour, doesn’t it?” Sid sneered. “Considering you walk out of here with the girl, after all, hmm?”

“The girl,” Jungkook countered, “was mine to begin with.”

Sid laughed, throwing his head back. “You were ready to give her up for a game just a few weeks ago!”

Jungkook clenched his fists. He couldn’t help but notice that it was “the girl” in particular that Sid brought up as unfair.

Taehyung watched the younger boy’s body language. He knew what might happen next: Jungkook had nothing to say to that, so he seemed intent on shifting the conversation to a more physical level. A level that would likely result in more black eyes and knocked-out teeth.

God, when did he and Luna become babysitters?

He let out a sigh and took a step forward. “We should go, Jungkook. The bus is leaving soon.”

Grounded by his voice, Jungkook glanced at the older member. Taehyung nodded and Jungkook took a deep breath to relax his muscles. He turned around.

There was no point to any of this. He had nothing left to prove to Sid.

“Oh, that’s right,” Sid called out as soon as Jungkook started to walk away. “You don’t have shit to say, so you leave. Fucking typical. Once a loser, always a loser.”

Like any rational person, Taehyung groaned and opened his mouth to suggest calling the police since Sid clearly didn’t want to go away quietly.

But the older member wasn’t able to react quickly enough when Jungkook suddenly whipped around and marched back towards Sid, his expression not just determined, but downright murderous.

Minjun widened his eyes and stepped into the gap between the two boys.

“Drop it, Sid,” he said, facing away from Jungkook. His voice sounded nervous, but he pushed Sid’s chest to prompt him to take a step back.

Sid stepped back—and then took another step to give the impression that he had pulled away voluntarily.

“Why should I be the one to drop it?” he demanded.

“Because you’re the only one who still cares about it,” Minjun said.

“And I’m one part of the bet,” Sid argued. “So, it’s hardly fair, isn’t it? I won the bike.”

Jungkook calmed down when he lost sight of Sid. Instead, he noted that Jude hadn’t objected once.

Technically, three people had made the bet, but Jude seemed to consider himself part of Sid now. Or he simply didn’t care about being involved anymore.

Taehyung lingered by the door, keeping quiet as Minjun handled the unfolding situation.

It was difficult not to say anything, however, because they seemed keen on having a discussion here, yet no one was bringing up the thing that seemed the most obvious to Taehyung: the real reason why Sid cared about the Katana so much, considering that he could have easily bought twenty of them if he wanted.

Just then, Jungkook chuckled sardonically.

“You just want to win for the sake of winning,” he said, giving Minjun a grateful pat on the back and stepping out from behind him.

Taehyung was taken aback by the statement. He had assumed—perhaps unfairly—that Jungkook would resort to violence to make his point. He wasn’t expecting the younger boy to voice everything that he’d been thinking.

“You don’t care about the bike,” Jungkook continued. “You just want me to suffer. Or—oh, that’s right. She’s the one that you really want. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Everyone in this empty lot behind the building, including the stray cat that monitored the scene from across the street while licking its paw, watched Sid hesitate.

Probably for the first time in his life, Sid was confronted with the unexpected increase in his heartbeat.

He scoffed. Then scoffed again. Then once more, so that everyone and their mothers would understand that he found the accusation ridiculous.

And everyone understood, really. But Sid’s fidgeting wasn’t making the point he thought it was.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re implying,” he retorted. “I’ve—I always get what I want. Why the fuck would I play games about—I never fucking grovel for girls. I don’t care how hot they are—”

“Right. But not this time, hm?” Jungkook countered. “You couldn’t get what you wanted, so now you’re doing everything you can to make sure I don’t either. You want to make us both miserable.”

Sid was embarrassed, Minjun realised as he watched his jaw tighten. He was utterly humiliated that someone would accuse him of having a crush.

“No. No, that was you. You made yourself miserable,” Sid deflected. “I had no part in that.”

How pathetic, Jungkook thought—but there was a satisfied smirk on his lips. He’d seen through Sid. And he’d forced him to lose his composure. Forced him to defend himself.

Jungkook remembered your description of Sid’s appearance last night; namely the comparison to a sewer rat—which was, honestly, very unfair for the rodent in question—and couldn’t hold himself back.

“Seeing your face every day actually brings me nothing but misery,” he said to Sid, “so you can’t escape the blame there.”

Taehyung looked away and puckered his lips to hide his reaction to the immature remark. Even he had to give a point to Jungkook here. Childish or not, it was clever enough to make Sid squint his eyes and hesitate once more.

“Don’t change the subject,” Sid said, which made Jungkook smile wider. “You broke the bet. The bike is mine.”

Minjun cut in with a groan.

“Sid, for fuck’s sake,” he said, tired of listening to the same thing over and over—and over—again. “It’s just a bet, so just fucking drop it. We’ll pay off the Katana if you care so much—”

“No.” Jungkook reached out a hand to touch Minjun’s shoulder, cutting him off. He glared at Sid. “You know what? You can keep the fucking keys to the bike,” he said as he pulled the keychain from his pocket, removed it, and tossed the keys roughly at Sid’s chest. The older boy scrambled to catch them. “Choke on them for all I care.”

Despite the venom in his words, Jungkook did not lose the sneering smile, and Sid’s eye twitched when he looked at him.

It didn’t feel satisfying when he held the motorcycle keys, but Jungkook was the one who looked like he won.

Jungkook turned away before Sid could come up with another mocking comment to make him stay, and headed towards Taehyung, who looked a little confounded.

The bassist needed a moment to process that the conversation had ended because Jungkook had decided it was over.

Taehyung felt quite proud of him, and when Jungkook looked at him, he reached out to tousle his hair affectionately. Jungkook backed away from his touch with a groan but still gave him a grateful look.

Instead of entering the venue, Taehyung led Jungkook to the side of the building, gesturing at the pack of cigarettes he had in his pocket.

A puzzled Minjun caught up with them a moment later.

“Why did you do that?” he asked while Jungkook turned to watch Sid and Jude walk away—both of them looked a little awkward, like they weren’t sure if the show they’d started was really over. “Why did you give him the keys?”

“He can keep the bike,” Jungkook said. “He’s never getting anything that really matters anyway.”

Minjun and Taehyung exchanged a look. They had both heard Sid stumble over his words earlier. They could tell that Sid had hoped the bet would end with Jungkook losing you, and not just the motorcycle.

Minjun still wasn’t sure if Sid’s actions were motivated by his wish to make Jungkook suffer, or if he really had feelings for you.

But he supposed it didn’t even matter anymore. Jungkook seemed ready to go to war for you either way.

“So, what—what are you going to do?” Minjun asked.

Jungkook shrugged and stuffed his hands into his now-empty pockets.

“It’s too late to do anything,” he said, smiling at his friend. “There’ll be other bikes. I don’t—it’s not what I’m worried about.”

Minjun nodded. He knew Jungkook wasn’t thinking about Sid actually trying to make a move on you. You’d snap his neck if he tried, and leave his body for the crows and pigeons to enjoy. Everyone knew it, and they would have wholeheartedly supported your reaction.

No, what Jungkook was really worried about was that Sid might have already done irreparable damage to your relationship. Minjun had hoped to help Jungkook by talking to you, but he wasn’t sure if it was any help at all.

“Good riddance,” Taehyung said slowly. “Sid, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah,” Minjun agreed right away. “Fuck him.”

“I can’t believe he’s here, though,” Jungkook said. He turned back to make sure that Sid had really left. “You think he’ll come to Glasgow, too, just to fuck with me?”

“Honestly, he might,” Minjun admitted. “He’s got the bike, but he can tell he didn’t actually win. He might want to retaliate.”

Jungkook groaned. Despite his hopes, he feared that Minjun was right.

“What can he do, though?” Taehyung asked, taking out the Marlboro pack from the pocket of his oversized leather jacket. “He’s alone.”

“Yeah.” Minjun pointed at him in agreement. “It’ll be a while before he finds someone who will follow his orders.”

“Well,” Jungkook said as Taehyung passed his cigarettes to both boys, “Jude might.”

“Jude can’t wipe his own ass unless he’s high as a kite,” Minjun said—his vowels softened by the cigarette between his lips. “I’m fucking pissed that he left with Sid, but—I mean, there’s nothing we can do.”

Taehyung opened his engraved Zippo lighter with a crisp click. He lit his own cigarette, then did the same for Jungkook and Minjun.

“If he shows his face anywhere near us again, I’m calling the cops,” Jungkook decided, shakily inhaling the smoke. “Tonight was the last time. I gave up the bike. I don’t care whether he thinks that’s enough. There’s nothing that he can hold against me anymore. We’re done.”

Minjun smiled at this.

Truth be told, he felt a little giddy from the significance of this moment. He’d never spent any time with Jungkook’s bandmates, and he knew it was because of Sid. Taehyung would not have offered them cigarettes if the obnoxious menace had been here, so this moment felt a bit like the start of something new. Something better.

Minjun exhaled the smoke while Jungkook confessed, “I don’t know what it’ll be like with him gone, though.”

Taehyung scoffed so vehemently that the smoke from his cigarette nearly got caught in his throat.

“I know,” he said. “Better.”

Minjun smirked and Jungkook nodded in agreement, but he still looked a little pale and wide-eyed as he toyed with the cigarette between his fingers.

“We’ll be fine,” Minjun promised. “Might get bored much faster because Sid won’t be here to think of ways we could kill ourselves, but honestly, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah, no—definitely.” Jungkook tried to smile, but there was something else on the tip of his tongue. He took a deep drag and slowly blew out the smoke before speaking. “This is, um—kind of weird, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you, but, uh—thank you. For being… for being yourself.”

Taehyung looked away, exhaling smoke into the parking lot to give the two boys more privacy without actually walking away from them.

Minjun was smiling, too. “Who else would I be?”

“You could have tried to be Sid,” Jungkook pointed out.

“Fuck no.”

They both laughed, and Taehyung stopped trying so hard to hide his smile.

For a minute, Sid’s absence was very palpable and it felt absolutely blissful.

“You’re welcome,” Minjun said, just when Taehyung offered, “another one?”

He pulled out another cigarette for himself and passed the rest to Minjun. While the two of them lit up another round, Jungkook finished his first one.

He was restless all of a sudden. This tended to happen to him, especially lately—the longer he was away from you, the harder it was not to think of you.

You’d told him you’d find him so you could talk.

What if you were looking for him? And he was wasting his time dealing with Sid’s temper tantrums again?

“I’m going to go,” he announced to the other boys as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it, twisting the sole of his shoe to put it out. “If those two come back, knock them out or call the police, I don’t care. I’ll see you on the bus, yeah?”

Taehyung chuckled, much calmer to let Jungkook wander off on his own now that he’d seen Sid leave with his own eyes.

“Sure,” he said, blowing smoke out. “You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

As he walked towards the door, Jungkook remembered what you’d told him in Stockholm. You’d been right back then.

If he surrounded himself with people who genuinely cared about him, he would have enough voices to keep his mind calm. He would have someone to call if he was alone.

He would be okay.

Jungkook came to a sudden stop in the corridor when he heard your voice inside Rated Riot’s dressing room. The door was ajar, and he could see your profile as you leaned against the dressing table and talked to someone. He bent down to listen and recognised Luna’s voice in there, too.

“Did Nick text you again?” Luna was asking you. “After that time on the bus?”

Naturally, Jungkook froze on the other side of the door.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really.

But who in the great fuck was Nick?

As quietly as he could under the circumstances—his heart had flat-lined for a second or two before breaking into the most passionate beating he’d ever experienced—Jungkook stepped to the side so you wouldn’t spot him through the gap in the door, and strained to listen.

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh. Were you always this quiet when you spoke, or was he going deaf from his rapid heartbeat? “He texted me this morning. I didn’t reply, I was—well, with Jungkook.”

Now, Jungkook thought as he paled to match the plaster on the walls of the corridor, what—the absolute fuck—was that supposed to mean?

“But, uh, he said he’d like to arrange a formal meeting with me,” you continued, and the dressing table creaked as you moved away from it, “when he comes back from Australia with Reconnaissance.”

The terrified lightbulb at the end of the corridor flickered erratically as Jungkook frowned.

Nick Zhou—your supervisor at your first internship after graduation—returned to his memory. Jungkook had heard enough to understand that Nick managed Reconnaissance now.

That probably meant that you weren’t seeing anyone else. But Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was relieved by this.

“Are you going to go to this meeting?” Luna asked.

Good question, Jungkook thought. And then, immediately after—please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

“I… I don’t know. I think I should,” you said. Jungkook dug his nails into the pillows of his palms. “All our conversations about this had been over the phone, you know? I think it might be good to hear him out properly, face-to-face.”

“So, you’re really considering this then, huh?” Luna said.

You were quiet for a very long time.

Jungkook measured each second of your silence in the beats of his heart: bang-bang-bang, one, bang-bang-bang, two, bang-bang-bang, three.

“I guess I am,” you finally said. “N-not because I suddenly decided I don’t want to work with Rated Riot anymore. I just—well, in light of everything that happened, I think that hearing Nick out just seems like a… reasonable thing to do.”

Jungkook decided he’d heard enough.

He thought he knew what you would say next. He knew what happened. He knew what this “everything” was.

His immaturity. His constant dependence on you.

His tendency to fail at everything that he tried to do for you.

His inability to prove that he deserved another chance with you.

Finally, the bet.

So, there it was, then. He’d always been terrified of letting you down, and he did that anyway.

Exhaling shakily, Jungkook turned around and crossed the corridor toward the main exit where the tour bus was parked.

You were supposed to talk. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d find what to say.

If Jungkook hadn’t walked away, however—if he’d stayed for a minute longer—he would have heard what Taehyung caught as he returned to the dressing room, biting on the filter of a new cigarette.

“If it really came down to it, then—you know,” you were saying, “I-I couldn’t be with him, and still be his manager at the same time.”

The door creaked.

“Oh.” Taehyung stopped in the doorway, not sure if he was more surprised by your words or by the unexpected noise from the door. “Sorry, am I—? I can leave.”

You had been cleaning up backstage when Luna joined you after she lost track of Taehyung. That made you realise that you hadn’t seen him or Jungkook in a while. But now that Taehyung was here, the two of you looked at him as if you had never seen him before in your lives.

The expression on Taehyung’s face was not at all ambiguous. He knew what he’d just heard. You hadn’t used Jungkook’s name, but he was everywhere in this room and in your eyes.

Noting your expression and the way the can of beer in your hands began to tremble, Luna slid off the couch and walked over to her boyfriend.

“We were looking for you!” she exclaimed with far more anger than she actually felt. “Where were you?”

“I was—Jungkook and I just—we stepped outside for a second,” he said as he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “Sorry.”

“You could have texted,” Luna said, her voice rushed. She glanced at you over her shoulder. “We were just about to head back to the bus, weren’t we? That’s what we were discussing.”

“Right,” Taehyung said. “Well, I didn’t hear anything else.”

God, you thought. The three of you were the main cast in a poorly scripted tragicomedy all of a sudden.

“Yeah, we should go,” you said, hoping that the warmth you felt all over your body didn’t show on your face—it didn’t. But your panicked gaze still gave you away. “We’re leaving in half an hour. Is he on the bus?”

Again, the pronoun that did not need an explanation—Taehyung nodded right away.

“Yeah, he—he was on his way there,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. “You can go. I’ll pack the rest of our things first.”

“We’ll help,” Luna offered. “You need to rest as much as possible.”

You were afraid she would say that. But she and Taehyung began to gather the empty paper cups and the staff members’ forgotten phones before you could object.

Stunned momentarily, you realised—like Jungkook had before—that you were surrounded by people who loved you.

And you were afraid, suddenly, to lose this if you left to work with Reconnaissance. Just like you were afraid of what would happen between you and Jungkook if you didn’t leave.

The hopelessness of the situation stayed with Jungkook as he got on the bus.

He chose not to wait for you, and instead went to the mini-fridge to find Jack Daniels. And while looking for that, he also befriended Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker. Jose Cuervo was, sadly, already almost empty.

When you opened the door of the bus half an hour later—surprised (and a little concerned) to see that it was empty—Jungkook was already feeling a pleasant buzz. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he definitely wasn’t sober as he stumbled a little while trying to climb out of his bunk and stretch his legs outside before the trip.

The alcohol had dulled the pain a little—as it was notorious for doing—but he still flinched when he saw the door open and heard your voice outside the bus.

“You need help standing?” you asked—louder than he had anticipated—and he spun on his axis, gripping the stair railing to steady himself.

He was happy to see you. And so tremendously hurt.

“Nope,” he said, licking his lips. “I’m perfect.”

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked.

“Flat tire,” Jungkook mumbled, slurring the consonants as he joined you outside the bus. “Driver said we’d be here for another hour. He doesn’t have a spare. Everyone else went—for a smoke, I don’t know.”

His eye patch had slid off and was caught in his messy hair. But the bandages around his eye had remained in place.

His scent was whiskey, but the look in his eyes was sober pain.

You were a little afraid of him like this because you didn’t know what he would tell you next.

“Mmhm,” you said. “And, uh—how come we’re drinking tonight?”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “We have our reasons.”

You waited for him to continue by counting the dark pebbles under your shoes. He leaned his back against the metal railing of the bus steps and gave you a long look.

“Sid’s here,” he said.

You looked up, aghast. Terror was the first thing you felt, and aggravation followed shortly after.

“What?” you questioned. “How?”

“He followed me to Manchester for the Katana,” Jungkook explained. “Minjun had given me back the keys, and Sid found out about it.”

“I thought you had—”

“I had,” he confirmed. He’d triple-checked with Mick to make sure Sid was really banned. “He couldn’t enter the venue, so Jude texted me to come outside. Mick suggested calling the police.”

You liked Mick. Everyone did. He was the quiet backbone of this entire tour.

But you didn’t like that Jungkook seemed to disagree with Mick’s suggestion.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked slowly. You thought you understood why Jungkook decided to finish off the most expensive bottles of whiskey that you had on the bus. Sid’s unexpected reappearance was a good reason to drink.

“I would have,” he said. “But I gave Sid the keys and he left. He’s got no reason to come back now. We’re done.”

You appreciated the cold wind on your face, because learning that Jungkook had given up his Katana willingly—to get Sid off his back for good—was painful. It felt heavy in your chest and in your lungs.

“Oh,” you managed.

“I really mean it. If he decides to show his face again despite that, I’m—I’m letting Mick handle it,” Jungkook promised. “He can call the cops or do whatever else he wants. Sid wanted to win the bet, well, he won it. I’m not going to see him again. I really mean it.”

His voice grew in volume despite getting hoarse. He was so distressed that he was nearing hysteria.

It occurred to you that he thought you would blame him for this. Like it was his fault that Sid was so dedicated to his craft of being a pest that he travelled across Europe for it.

“I’m not saying one word to him ever again,” Jungkook continued, all his words coming out in one breath. “I’m—I’m done. I swear. I’m not going—”

“I know,” you cut in softly before his panicked rambling could get worse. “I believe you.”

“I—” he stopped. His face regained some liveliness. “Thank you.”

“Is that your reason for drinking?” you asked, even though, deep down, you knew it wasn’t. “I thought we were supposed to talk.”

“I thought so, too,” he said, then inhaled sharply and plopped down on the bottom step, banging his thigh against the metal railing and wincing in pain. “Shit. But then I thought—I thought I’d rather get drunk than have my heart shattered. So here we are.”

Your stomach plummeted and the muscles all over your body jolted awake.

“What—what are you talking about?” you asked, looking around. Taehyung and Luna wanted to grab some snacks at the corner shop across the street, but you were still worried they’d catch you here.

Jungkook rested his head against the door frame.

“I’m... really, I’m tired of everything,” he said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have messed around. I should have been honest with you about—about everything right away.”

You leaned your hip against the side of the bus. You appreciated him talking to you now, but you both knew that this hadn’t always been the case.

“You... should have been,” you concurred awkwardly.

“But I wasn’t,” he finished. “And now I’m too tired to keep trying. To keep knocking on a—the door is closed. Locked. I get it. You say you believe me, but I know the truth. I really fucked up. Not just with the—with the bet. I never treated you right. You do so much. You take care of everyone in your life.” He paused to take a breath. “And I’ve always been another fucking burden. I won’t—I won’t be that anymore. You won’t need to take care of me anymore. I promise.”

You looked at him with a worried wrinkle between your brows. “Jungkook, I’m your manager—”

“You’re my everything,” he cut you off and brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. “But I’ve been fucking awful to you. You deserve so much better. I’m so—I’m so sorry. I have no right to—to expect you to come back to me. B-but I want to show you that I can be different. I want to show you the guy that I am without Sid. You know that guy. You know what he’s like. I want to show him to you again.”

You swallowed as your eyes drifted from his face to the rough gravel under your shoes, to the door of the venue, and eventually settled on your own crossed arms.

You felt tired, too, but this wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from him. You wondered what brought this on so suddenly.

“I really don’t want you to leave,” he continued. You straightened, realising what this was about. “But I… I understand if you will. I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you, but if I want—I want you to see that I’m growing. And because of that, I can’t hold you back.”

Your heart was beating too much, too intensely, too desperately for you to respond.

It felt—and, evidently, your heart realised it before your brain did—like Jungkook was making the decision about the rest of your life for you. A decision that you didn’t want to make.

“It’s over,” he said. “I get it. But the band loves you. We need you. You’re our—we’re nothing without you. We’re not Rated Riot. But we—the guys wouldn’t force you to stay. And I know I can’t do that, either. So, if leaving the band is the right choice for you… then you should go. You should always do what’s best for you. I wish I was what was best for you, but I’m not. Actually, I don’t think there’s anyone who would be good enough for you in my eyes, but—”

“Jungkook, please,” you finally whispered—the words painful on your numb tongue.

“Right, sorry,” he pulled back. You were afraid that if you closed your eyes, you wouldn’t be able to hear him anymore. “What I mean is, you deserve the best, and I’m so fucking far from it. I love you so much, but I don’t know if that’s enough. I just—I want you to know that if you decide to stay with us, I’ll never let you down again. But if you choose to go… I-I would understand. Ultimately, it’s your choice, as it should be.”

He stopped talking and allowed the night to fill the silence.

You didn’t know what was going to happen next.

He’d told you a lot over the past few days. He brought back a lot of memories, a lot of mistakes. And now he was taking action, too, to make sure to fix those mistakes. To make sure he didn’t repeat them.

He made a bet with Sid.

And this bet tried to prove that he still hadn’t changed, that his friends were still his main priority. But he black-listed Sid from Rated Riot’s shows and gave up his bike to make sure Sid didn’t come back.

The bet tried to prove that the two of you still couldn’t communicate. But he told you everything that he had been too afraid to say in your relationship.

The bet tried to prove that he didn’t really care about you. But he stayed with you when you were feeling your best and when you were at your most vulnerable.

The bet tried to prove that he only cared about himself. But after telling you how much he loved you, he was letting you go.

Again and again and again his words echoed in your head.

The determined I’ll be here, and the tentative It’s a song about my favourite thing in the world.

The terrified I can’t lose you, and the confident I’ll always love you.

You didn’t want to believe him when he had told you he loved you—and that was what this was about.

You were afraid of what it would mean—of what would happen—if all that there was to it, if all that hid under your uncertainty, was just your love for each other.

Minjun had made a reasonable point when he asked whether you were upset about the bet or about Jungkook’s feelings.

Perhaps the bet had quickly turned into an easy excuse not to be together. It was bad, it was awful, it was so terrible—but all it really did was provide a comfortable cover for your own fear and anxiety about him. About yourself. About you, together.

In retrospect, probably the worst repercussion of the bet was that it returned the two of you to the same place you were in before you learned about it. The place where you both wanted each other—so much—but you couldn’t.

As the silence continued to envelop the bus, competing with the night for dominance, it swallowed the sounds of the distant chatter of the people nearby.

You pulled back from the bus. It was time to stand up. Time to go.

“Come on,” you said quietly. “It’s getting cold.”

Jungkook looked at you from the bottom step by the door, and you realised that he’d been wrong that night in Manchester when he said that your favourite thing in the world was the night sky.

It wasn’t.

It was the stars—whole constellations, each formed after a specific moment in life—and the moon, and half of an entire galaxy in his eyes.

It was the way they brightened when he smiled at you, and the way they narrowed when you teased him. It was the way they stilled when he was listening to you speak, and the way they softened when he saw you at every venue. At every practice. Every soundcheck. Every concert. Every hotel. Every empty European street. Every night, and every morning. Year, after year, after year, after—

Your hands trembled as you watched him, realising with a startled burst in your chest that he loved you. He has loved you for as long as you’ve known him.

And against all odds, against all rational thoughts and fateful coincidences, against all wishes upon stars, you realised that you’ve always loved him, too.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

chapter title credits: the devil wears prada, “salt”

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you write a headcannon about billy and Freddie when they are older taking care of there s/o who has there period and how they would react or help them with it . If that makes any sense.

Due to the fact that both boys having grown up with the likes of Darla, Mary and Rosa, I’d like to think that Billy and Freddy have a basic understanding on what’s going on with you when the dreaded days of experiencing brutal cramps came for you. (Depending on how bad your period hits, mine doesn’t hurt as badly as others but that don’t mean they aren’t an annoyance.)

Billy is more then willing to do things for you, doing anything and everything that he knows will help in making you more comfortable during what was most possibly your worst few days of your life. So his acts of service love language is on fully display here and it never fails to melt your heart with how much he’s willing to put up with in order of making things a little easier for you.

Chocolate, medicine, cozy blankets, comfortable clothing, favourite stuffed plushie, hot water bottles, comfort movies are amongst the many things Billy would have on hand because don’t we love a man who’s prepared for any and everything?

He’d even offer up being your personal human heater if needs be. He’s not going to fight his fate should you become in need of his warmth and affection when the hot water bottle was beginning to grow lukewarm.

Billy really enjoys being able to take care of you and would automatically wave away any and all inclinations you may have about him possibly being annoyed about being on his hand and fort for you 24/7, claiming that his reasoning for doing all this was that;

A) it’s the right thing

B) he wasn’t about to stand on the sidelines helpless when there was ways that he could pitch in and help

And c) he genuinely doesn’t mind. It’s you after all, his s/o, so of course he’s going to help you! Don’t be a dummy!

He’d attempt in making your favourite comfort food but if that doesn’t work out, a quick nip to the corner shop never hurts.

This boy will make it his mission to make you laugh to get your mind off of the massacre going off in your lower abdomen. Freddy specialises in taking your mind off of things and you couldn’t be more grateful for having him in your life.

Freddy maybe a goof sometimes but he’s your goof all of the time. So it’s impossible to have a shift in moods when this sweet angel is making you laugh up a storm til tears are streaking down your face.

Another more then willing human heater, if anything he probably ditches the hot water bottle and presents himself as the alternative in keeping the cramps at bay. His hand almost as though supper glued to your lower abdomen as his thumb ran comforting strokes across the skin there whilst your cuddled into his side.

He’s got all your movies cued up and ready to go that it might as well be an impromptu movie night within the walls of your bedroom!

I feel like Freddy would give you words of comfort and praise, letting you know how strong you were for going through all this and enduring such pain and yet still being able to make it through to repeat it the next day? Honestly it’s awe inspiring for the lad to have such an strong partner. A superhero is what he calls you, more specifically his favourite superhero. (Yes I think his love language is words of affirmation.)

Freddy is more then willing to fight your period pains if he could but since period pains didn’t have a physical form he takes alternative methods in doing so.

Funny video marathons or cute animal montages that only end up making you cry because they’re so fucking adorable to the point you were inconsolable. Freddy would take everything you say through your blubbering with absolute seriousness.

‘They’re so tiny Freddy! You could put them in your pocket!’

‘You’re absolutely right, you could stuff an entire army of the little guys in your coat pockets.’

‘Right!’

Overall both boys are sweet, attentive and genuine in their care of you. They only want you to get better and are more then dedicated in their efforts in doing so that at some point, you’d have to remind them to take care of themselves because surprise surprise, they’re human and every human has limitations.

I literally can’t think of anything else that they’d do differently from one another without it becoming too repetitive.

[krowfics]

A Little Bored (Drabble)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: prinxiety

Plot: Roman was bored. Except he had Virgil on his lap so he wasn't that bored

Words: 521

Notes: Randomly selected characters and randomly generated prompt from here - the prompts was: Person B showing Person A some of their favorite viral videos/memes.

i did not proofread as much as normal but its fine i think probably

AO3

~~~

Roman was maybe a little bored. Not that he'd ever admit it, not if it meant he'd risk losing the warm pressure of Virgil against him. His legs were swung over Roman's and his back was partially pressed to Roman's shoulder and chest. Roman's arms were wrapped around him, one around his back with a hand landing on his hip and the other across his thighs to hold him securely in place. Virgil's hands rested on his own lap, making the phone he was holding lean on Roman's arm, but tilted in a way so both of them could see him scrolling through tumblr. But as much as he appreciated a good cuddle, it didn't change the fact that he was kind of bored.

It had started with Roman wanting to whisk Virgil away, to an adventure, to a picnic, to a stroll through the imagination, anything. And Virgil had softly, nervously responded, with his shoulders tense and his eyes glued to the floor, that he didn't think he could handle doing much more than just sitting down right now. 

So sit, they did.

Roman wasn't disappointed, exactly, though sitting still had never really been his forte. He really would rather spend time with Virgil than not, even if that did mean sitting on the couch and getting showed Virgil's favorite memes and textposts he'd reblogged rather than something more exciting like slaying dragons or at least watching the sunset on a picturesque picnic blanket with a buffet's worth of fine dining.

And the tumblr posts were mildly entertaining for a while, until Virgil eventually turned away from his own reblogs and simply went off his dashboard, which was far more hit or miss on the comedy side of things. It seemed like multiple people he was following had doomscrolled in various fandom tags and now Virgil spent most of his time constantly scrolling until he found a post he decided was worth reading.

And well, Roman had stopped paying attention a while ago, and was feeling a mild buzz of antsiness. If he had wanted to get up and do something else on his own, Virgil would let him with little complaint, he knew. But Roman really didn't want to move, even if his only entertainment was the soft warmth and pressure of his darling Stormcloud in his arms.

He glanced down at Virgil's hands, his thumb's movement paused, apparently having found a post worth reading. A few moments passed and... Virgil probably would be done reading now, scrolling along to the next post within a second. But he didn't.

Roman tilted slightly, careful to not jostle the other side, so he could get a better look at his face. He found it perfectly calm and relaxed, his eyes shut gently and mouth barely parted, breathing even breaths. When Roman wasn't paying attention, he had fallen asleep, practically curled up like a cat against roman and very firmly assigning him to pillow duty.

Roman wouldn’t be moving for a while, he realized, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind. Maybe he wasn't that bored in the first place.

~~~

a/n im forcing myself to write drabbles even though i dont super like writing them in hopes to get over writers block also hi guys its been so long

@flowercrownsandtrauma hi taglist buddy its been sooo loong im sorry, i would completely understand if you'd wanna be removed, ik fandoms change and stuff its been like a year lol

[fallen-gravity]

Conquering the Inner Ghost

Everything is supposed to be back to normal.

Molly and Ollie are back on great terms again, and Scratch no longer has to worry about being hunted down by ghost-hunting traps everywhere he goes.

Everything should be normal, anyway.

Ollie still flinches every time Scratch moves towards him. Scratch notices that he's still flinching every time he moves towards him.

Notes:

This is supposed to take place sometime relatively soon after Ollie's breakdown at the end of Unhaunting, but it could honestly fit in anywhere in season two after Frightmares. It could even fit in post-Carbon Zero Heroes! It could even fit in five or six years down the line! Intrusive thoughts don't wait for when they're convenient, they just show up whenever they feel like it. But for the sake of the story this comes before Carbon Zero Heroes, and before All in the Mind where Molly has more time to bond with them.

AO3

Everything was supposed to go back to normal.

Well, Molly’s version of normal, anyway.

Now that Ollie’s sworn off of ghost hunting forever and started dedicating his time to “engoodifying” the world in other ways, he and Molly have been spending significantly more and more time together. It seems like anytime Molly’s not out with Libby or Andrea, she’s cozying up in her room with Ollie, doing a terrible job at hiding the fact that she clearly still has feelings for the kid. Even worse, Ollie seems to be none the wiser, but Scratch just chalks that up to the fact that he’s also doing a horrible job hiding his own feelings for her. 

It’s gross. If not for being too lazy, Scratch would pack up his dollhouse and move it into Darryl’s room so he doesn’t ever have to see them being all mushy like that ever again. But…as much as he hates to admit it, he almost prefers things this way, because Scratch has never seen Molly happier than when she’s with Ollie. He’ll take those googly eyes over Molly lamenting over him by laying face-down on her bed and groaning loudly into her pillow any day.

Not to mention that Ollie’s been making large, active strides to being nice to him, too. The louder, more selfish part of Scratch is happy to admit that part’s over with, because that means he can actually start going places with Molly again without having to worry about being caught in another Spectral Snare or having a gun pointed at his head. Ever since the encounter with Blair at the video store, it’s been all smooth sailing from there.

Well, mostly.

Except for one glaring problem.

Which is why everything is not back to normal, despite Molly’s claims that they are.

Despite Ollie’s claims that he’s done hunting ghosts, and despite his claim that he’s gonna work his hardest to become a friend of all ghosts, just like Molly, the kid’s doing an awful job at hiding the fact that he’s still afraid of him, despite time and time again claiming that he isn’t. And okay, sure, maybe it was pretty hilarious at first, watching him jump and flinch every time Ollie noticed Scratch floating over his shoulder, and a petty little part of him thought it was deserved, but come on! Now he’s not even trying to scare the kid, and it still seems like he’s afraid for his life every time Molly leaves them in a room alone for more than two minutes. 

What’s the deal with that? Scratch thought they were over walking on eggshells around him after Ollie practically used him as a snot rag when he was crying over how guilty he felt for how he treated ghosts. That wasn’t all an act, was it? Because if it was, and he’s still conspiring with his family, he’ll-!

“Whoops!” Molly’s exclamation spooks Scratch out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head to clear his mind.

Oh yeah.

He’d almost forgotten.

Ollie’s here right now. 

He and Molly are squished up next to each other under a hastily-made blanket fort on her bedroom floor, watching a B-grade horror movie the two of them had discovered had a cult-following online. Scratch had gotten so caught up in his head that he’d also somehow forgotten that he agreed to watch the movie with them, seeing as he was sitting on Molly’s other side. 

“What’s wrong?” Ollie frowns, sitting up to meet Molly’s gaze. She meets his worried look with a playful snort, and taps at the empty bowl in front of her. 

“All out of kettle corn! I’ll go see if I can get us some more” She smiles, and stands to stretch before she turns to face the two of them. “You two behave yourselves,” she squints teasingly, and points to the laptop. “And I know how awful you both are with spoilers, so pause that for me until I get back”

“On it, McGee” Scratch salutes sarcastically, but Molly, ever used to his shenanigans, simply grins at him before disappearing down the attic steps with the empty bowl tucked under her arm. Scratch rolls his eyes at her, and moves to grab Molly’s laptop so he can pause the movie, but…

Ollie flinches at the gesture. 

As a matter of fact, not only does he flinch at the very simple gesture of Scratch moving slightly closer to him, but he also curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and sighing loudly. 

Scratch groans.

Nothing’s gonna change unless he says something, is it? ‘Cause Ollie’s clearly hit a wall with Molly, and she’s not even the one he’s flinching at.

Curse Molly and her empathy for rubbing off on him.

Scratch sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Okay, kid, I have to ask. What could I possibly still be doing wrong?”

“Huh?” Ollie pulls his head from where he’d buried it into his knees. “What do you mean?”

Okay, no flinch at being directly addressed. That’s a good sign. 

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Scratch crosses his arms, doing a terrible job at hiding all the frustration in his voice. “What’s with all the flinching? All the acting like I’m out to get you? Is there something I’m still not doing right? How else could I possibly prove to you that I’m not out to get you or Molly?” 

Ollie blinks at that, and adjusts his sitting position so he’s not completely curled in on himself anymore. He opens his mouth, closes it, visibly pauses to think, and just when Scratch thinks that Ollie’s about to drop his nice-boy facade and go on a vigilante ramble about protecting those he loves most, or whatever, he…droops.

“...Oh,” is all he says, which genuinely catches Scratch off-guard. “So you did notice,” he says, but then he scrunches his face in like he feels like an idiot for saying that out loud, like he’s aware how obvious he’s being about it. He finally seems to find the courage to look Scratch in the eyes, and as awful as Scratch is at reading people just from their expressions, even he can see that the kid just looks…tired. Truly, genuinely tired, not in any way that could be fixed by a good night’s rest.

And, well….Scratch knows that feeling all too well. 

“Can I…tell you a secret?” Ollie mumbles, which catches Scratch even more off-guard. If not for being the only other person in the room, Scratch would be sure Ollie was talking to someone else. “And…” he starts to curl in on himself. “...Can you promise not to tell Molly?”

Scratch raises an eyebrow at that, but before he has any time to question why Molly isn’t allowed to know such crucial information, Ollie quickly waves his hands around to defend himself. 

“N-not because it has anything to do with her, promise!” He squeaks. “Or ghost hunting. Or any of that.” He pauses, and turns a little red in embarrassment. “O-okay, actually, it might have to do a little bit with ghost hunting, but I promise it’s not because I plan to start back up again”

Well, Scratch will give him that. If he really were trying to start up ghost hunting again, why would he go to a ghost about it? Especially one who could very easily go and tell Molly about it?

Scratch sighs, his form drooping and relaxing around him. “Alright, kid, I’ll bite. What’s on your mind?”

That must’ve been some incredibly poor choice of phrasing for whatever Ollie wants to talk about, because his face momentarily goes pale before he’s quick to recover himself. 

Ollie sighs heavily as he looks towards the ground, no longer able to look Scratch in the eyes despite having just asked to talk to him specifically. Scratch decides it’s best not to question it, because he has a feeling they’re going to be here all night if he does. 

“It’s just that…” Ollie mumbles, and tugs on the sleeve of his jacket. “I keep having all of these…thoughts. And daydreams. And nightmares. And I can’t make them go away no matter how much I try to get them to.” He looks at his shaking hands, but doesn’t let Scratch ask any questions before he can continue. “I keep having all of these awful thoughts about ghosts. Every time I’m in a room by myself, I keep thinking some ghost is gonna jump out and attack me. Every time I leave the house I feel like a group of those Frightmares are gonna come back and attack my family while they’re vulnerable. I locked all of my old ghost hunting weapons away in one of my old moving boxes in the closet, but I keep thinking that someone’s gonna come at me in my bed while I sleep. Even when I sleep, I have these nightmares about being stalked, about being kidnapped, about…so much worse” 

He starts curling in on himself.

“Worst of all? I still find myself having those thoughts about you. I shouldn’t, and I don’t want to, but every once in a while I have these thoughts that you’re gonna do something to me the moment Molly leaves the room. I know you’re not, but it’s like the muscle memory part of my brain won’t buy it.” He raises his hands in defense again. “I’ve never had any thoughts about hurting or doing anything to you, so you don’t need to worry about any of that, but…” He sighs. “If you’re starting to notice when I get all jittery and nervous, it’s only a matter of time before she starts noticing, too” 

He meets Scratch’s gaze again, like despite all of this venting he’s the one who needs to make a promise to make it all better. “I don’t want to act on these thoughts, I never want to hurt a ghost or any other supernatural creatures ever again, but they won’t stop”

Ollie brings his knees to his chest again and buries his face in them. Scratch can’t make out the look on his face anymore, but the sound of his broken, shuddering breathing is unmistakable.

Scratch is…baffled. He wasn’t sure what to expect when Oliver “comes to Molly for everything because she’s the most reliable person he knows” Chen came to him for a crisis, Scratch “will sell your soul for one spicy chip and spill any secret to everyone he knows if it’s funny enough” McGee, but it certainly wasn’t…that. 

He’s…speechless. Sure, he’s always been awful at providing comfort, but rendering him completely speechless is a feat that even Molly finds hard to achieve.

Scratch awkwardly pats Ollie on the shoulder. “I don’t understand…” he replies, much softer than he intended to. “If you’re having all these awful thoughts about me, why come to me? Why not go right to Molly?” 

Ollie whips his head up at that, his face going pale again. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that! Do you have any idea how she’d react if I told her all of that? She’d never trust me again! She’s gonna think I’m backsliding!” He starts tugging on his hair. “If she finds out I’m having all of these awful thoughts of ghosts being awful she’s gonna hate me! She’ll never speak to me again!” 

Scratch feels terrible for the kid. 

He really does! He feels awful. He knows better than anyone what it’s like to feel like you’re the worst person in the whole universe. He knows better than anyone what it’s like to feel like all the eyes in the world are turning towards you as daggers.

But…does he really think that’s all there is to it? Does this kid really think that one or two bad thoughts he doesn’t even plan to act on makes him the scum of the earth? Does Ollie really think that someone like Molly would stop talking to him when she talks to a ghost like him every day?

Scratch doesn’t even realize that he’d started laughing at the thought until Ollie reacts.

“Hey! I’m serious!” He squeaks. “She’d hate me! I’m a terrible person!”

“Take it easy, kid!” Scratch wipes a tear from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you for being upset”

Ollie blushes. “Then what’s so funny?” 

“I’m laughing ‘cause they’re called intrusive thoughts for a reason, kid.”

“I don’t…” Ollie starts, but pauses to tilt his head. “I don’t follow.”

“You think you’re a terrible person for having intrusive thoughts? Puh-lease. If having intrusive thoughts made you as terrible a criminal as you make it seem, then I should be jailed for the rest of my afterlife.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Scratch sighs, scrubbing his hands down his face. “If you’re a bad person just for having bad thoughts, even those you don’t listen to, then what am I still doing here? I struggle with bad thoughts all the time and you don’t see me doing anything about them, do you?” 

Ollie blinks. “I hardly see you do anything at all.” 

Scratch squints. “Insult aside, my point is that they’re just thoughts, kid. If you’re having all these awful thoughts and you’re actively recognizing that you’re bad, how can that make you a bad person? A real bad person wouldn’t even blink an eye. A real bad person would act on those thoughts without a second thought.” Scratch grabs both of Ollie’s shoulders and shakes him gently. “I know you’ve got this whole savior complex thing going on, but I’ve said it to Molly and I’ll say it to you, too. You’re human. You can’t save everyone. And, well, you’re going to have awful thoughts for no reason sometimes. That’s just how people are.” 

“But…” Ollie frowns. “Mine aren’t for no reason. I did hurt all of those ghosts, and I did used to act on all of those awful thoughts.” 

Scratch raises an eyebrow. “But you stopped, didn’t you? And you’re not listening to those thoughts anymore. Trust me, I know a lot of ghosts who promise to do one thing but fall right back into their own habits the next day. Maybe you were that person then, but you’re not that person now.” Scratch taps at his head. “Your brain’s still fixating on ghost hunting? How’s about it starts going after the ones in your mind? ‘Cause those ghosts are gonna keep eating you alive if you never confront them.” He firmly shakes Ollie by the shoulders again. “Trust me. I know.”

For a few moments, Ollie doesn’t say a word. His eyes just dart nervously around Scratch’s form, but it’s not long before Ollie’s entire body relaxes and his shoulders droop in Scratch’s arms.

“You’re…” Ollie smiles shyly. “You’re right. Thank you”

Scratch smirks, releasing Ollie’s shoulder from his grip to cross his arms across his chest once more. “Don’t thank me too soon.”

Ollie tilts his head again. “How’s that?” 

“You have to talk to Molly about this. If you don’t tell her, I will” 

“What?!” Ollie squeaks. “I told you I can’t do that! Thoughts or no, she’s gonna think I’m backsliding!” 

Scratch only snorts in response. “Molly’s still friends with me, isn’t she? I’m the grouchiest, meanest person she knows and she’s still friends with me. She’s the most patient and understanding person you’re ever gonna meet. I’m sure she’d be happy to recount how long and hard she worked to get me to tolerate her hugs to the point of reciprocating them” Scratch rolls his eyes, but shakes his head when he realizes he’s starting to get off-topic. “Point is that she’s loving. She wants to help those she cares about and she’s not gonna turn away someone who’s struggling no matter the cause. You saw how hard she worked to chip away at you when you were still active in your family business, didn’t you? I’d be shocked if she weren't already ready to work twice as hard to help you figure things out now that you’re actively separated from it.” 

Scratch pauses, and mumbles his next thought, but not nearly quiet enough for Ollie not to hear. “...plus, you know, you make her really happy, and I like seeing her happy, so I’d get upset if you stopped talking to her because of some stupid thoughts. Hunt you down and haunt you for all eternity, and all that” 

He’s feeling too shy to put any real feelings into that threat, but Ollie seems to understand the general message of it all. His eyes turn to stars, and he squeals quietly as he grabs Scratch in a hug. If Scratch weren’t so used to the gesture already from Molly, it would’ve caught him off-guard for sure. 

“Awww, Molly’s right!! You really are a softie!!”

Scratch blushes at that, but before he can awkwardly reciprocate with a pat on the head, the sound of Molly starting her ascent back up the attic stairs startles Scratch out of his thoughts. He quickly (and gently) shoves Ollie out of the way, quick to put his grumpy facade right back on like a mask. 

“I thought I told you we weren’t there yet” He crosses his arms, squinting at the swoopy-haired boy in front of him.

Ollie only laughs in response. “Right, right, sorry” he grins teasingly, all the fear from earlier nowhere to be found. 

[v-septiceye]

Egotober Day 6: Pillow

Y'all get a really fluffy one today!! It's extra long to, hopefully, make up for the fact that I skipped so many days. XD

I also had two wonderful and amazing helpers proofread this so credit to them as well: @jellyfishdoodler @itsonlyparker I owe my life them lovingly.

Preview: Jackie has a fear of thunderstorms and will never admit it. Luckily, Chase can see right through him and helps me feel better. ♡♡

Boom

Jackie tried his best to allow himself to sink into the new comic he got a few days ago, trying to ignore the loud thunderstorm outside his window. Curtains being drawn shut, his TV playing some random show in the background, but nothing could stop him from shaking and clenching the pages in fear at the sounds outside. A crack of thunder roared overhead, making him flinch. He let out a small whimper as he threw his comic to the side and curled into himself, covering his ears. He hated being scared, especially of something so childish. He's a hero! He's not supposed to be scared of anything. He's supposed to be brave when others aren't. Yet he's curled up on his bed, trembling at the flash of lightning that lights up his room for a moment, and fighting the urge to scratch at the sprawling, but faded scar under his shirt. 

Knock Knock

Jackie shoots his head up at the sound of someone at his door and immediately hops to his feet, getting himself to look put together. He dusts himself off, opens the door, and peeks out, hoping the person on the other side doesn’t notice he’s shaking. "H-hey! What's up?" Jackie put on the fake confidence like a mask once he saw Chase standing in the door frame.

"Hey, Jackie!" Chase says, greeting Jackie with a smile, holding a bunch of blankets. "Do you know where we keep the… you ok little brother?" Chase noticed, and his face softened.

"Little?! I'm literally older than you" Jackie mocks, trying to sound brave until the next crack of thunder lights up the studio apartment, and the hero can't help but clench his fists tight leaving behind marks on his skin. Chase is quick to wrap an arm around Jackie's shoulders, lowering his voice when he realizes his brother is scared. 

"Hey hey, it's ok" Chase started, using that tone he used to bring out whenever one of his kids were upset or scared of something under the bed, "You're okay, Jackie. The thunder ain't gonna get you in here, okay?" Chase soothes, rubbing circles along Jackie's back. 

"It's humiliating though," He spits out, words muffled by hiding his face in Chase's shoulder. "I'm a grown man! Hell- I'm a superhero!! I'm not supposed to be scared of some fucking storm," He spits out annoyed, feeling embarrassed that he's scared in front of one of his brothers. He wants to just brush it off and say he's fine, but he knew wouldn't be able to. Chase knew him too well. Another crack of thunder and lightning roars overhead and Jackie wraps his arm tightly around his brother, hiding his face deeper into chase. He just chuckles and hugs Jackie tighter.

"Everyone is scared of something dude, that doesn't make you weak! You may be a hero, but you're also human.. I think you forget that sometimes," Chase whispers, still holding his big brother. As Chase speaks, he can feel Jackie immediately loosen up and hug him tight, almost bone-crushing, but he doesn't mind. "...Thank you, Chase."

"Anytime, bro." Chase says, pulling away from the hero, "And hey! I have something that'll make you feel better!" Chase beams, leading Jackie out of his room to the living room. "What is it?" 

When both egos make it to the living room they are greeted by a big  pillow fort, taking over the space. Chase beams with pride as Jackie stares in awe. The autumn themed blankets and pillows with all the Halloween plushies make it extra cozy looking and the string of fairy lights are the perfect cherry on top of it all. The hero smiles gratefully and crawls inside the fortress of plush and comfort. Inside, the warm fairy lights twinkle sluggishly as the blankets surround the TV like a grand stage curtain. Jackie notices a few bowls of snacks and bottles of soda sit off to the side as Chase scoots in beside him, pulling out Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse for them to watch. As the movie played, the brothers allowed themselves to be quiet as the movie drowned out the world and its scary noises around them. Locking out their fears and sad memories of the past, the two men watch the animated movie in the sanctuary of their pillow fort, forgetting of the rain beating on the windows outside.

[judesstfrancis]

thinking about vince darling and sammy aguilar today. I think the exact moment vince falls in love with sammy is when he's laid up in bed a couple days after his injury, leg aching and a migraine settling in and he can hear sammy, notoriously bad with kids, talking quietly with frank in the other room. she's been a little frustrated with her dad's injury, and how it means so much of her little routines have been disrupted. she's only 4 after all, she doesn't know why vince is all out of sorts. she's only ever had a scraped knee, as far as she knows u just put a band aid over it and boom, you're back doing cartwheels in the yard before sundown.

one of the things frank misses most is her room. but her room is up a flight of stairs that vince could never maneuver in this state and sammy practically kidnapped them both to his own home, besides. and frank doesn't mind living with sammy, no, she loves him, was ecstatic when vince announced they'd be sleeping over for a while. she just doesn't know why her princess bed isn't there with the canopy with the paper butterflies decorating it and her stuffed crocodile and her reading beanbag and the posters she'd ripped indiscriminately out of magazines and hung on her walls bc she'd seen someone in one of her aunt's tv dramas do it and immediately went to town on the oprah magazine wyn always kept on her coffee table

right now she just has sammy's impersonal guest room with all her clothes folded into the drawers of the dresser and a stack of her favorite picture books sitting on top of it. the walls aren't even yellow. they're green. it's stupid.

but there sammy is in the other room, frank's room, asking her questions

well let's start with what you do like. is the bed okay at least? comfy?

and there frank is in the other room, answering them with her usual four year old bluntness

hm-mm

okay. why not?

s'wrong

sure, I get that. so what would make it right?

princess bed.

right, got ya....what's that?

needs more buddy-flies

yeah, you're right. I think we can fix that. what else?

and on it goes until frank tells him everything that's right with her guest room (very little, aside from the fact that it has a window with a tree outside and her dad is right next door) and everything that's wrong with it (pretty much all of it, up to and including the pull chains for the ceiling fan).

at the end of it all, vince hears sammy pause. he winces a little, only partly bc of his growing migraine. vince has never denied his little girl anything, at least not anything that wasn't dangerous. she wanted a princess bed, so he got her a princess bed, and she wanted yellow paint, so he bought yellow paint, and she wanted a collage of oprah's favorite things on her walls, so he bought a subscription and a pair of safety scissors and let her go crazy with it.

but this is sammy's house. and frank has never had to live with anyone else before, doesn't understand that she can't always have it all. she's only ever slept over at her auntie wyn's house for a weekend at a time, when a blanket fort in the living room and fairy lights around the couch were enough to placate her. this is days, potentially months, in someone else's home, and while it breaks vince's heart that he won't be able to give her everything she wants, he knows sammy won't want to deal with all that. he just hopes he's gentle about it

instead, after the pause:

tell you what, kid. I'm gonna call some of your dad's friends, and we're gonna head over to your place because I don't know what the fu-hell-heck. a princess bed is. so we'll go pick it up and bring it here, with whatever else you're missing. can't take the walls with us, and I'm short on magazines, but the hardware store down the road has yellow paint and glow in the dark star stickers. what do you say?

and vince grows warm. thinks about sammy having to haul the old bed out of the house, find another place to store it. having to bring frank's bed in, probably take it apart and help her rearrange the butterflies to get it to fit. thinks about him buying new paint, sitting next to frank on the floor of the hardware store and staring at three near identical swatches of yellow paint for an hour before she finally chooses one. thinks about him cracking open a box of glow in the dark stars and waiting for frank to tell him exactly where to place each and every one, because lord knows she'll have an opinion about all of them.

before they leave, sammy stops in vince's room. vince speaks before he gets the chance to play it off

you don't have to do all this, sam

nah, she's your kid, darling. she wants teddy bear ceiling fan chains and a reading beanbag, she's gonna get it.

vince grins, only slightly strained. that bed of hers is a pain in the ass to put together.

yeah, well, so are you. I still wake you up every morning to take you to physical therapy

and it's a tease that vince would have met with anger a few weeks ago but now he just rolls his eyes, slightly amused

thanks

don't mention it. you got anything you want me to bring back?

not really. I've got enough clothes to last a while, and I already brought my shampoo over

not what I asked, darling. you live here, dude, at least for now. what do you need? to make it home?

vince swallows, thinks for a minute. wonders if the ache in his chest has something to with his migraine.

my bookshelf. and, uh, there's a blanket draped over the couch? maybe, um...maybe my sheets, too, if you don't mind

sammy nods, thinks to himself for a minute

you'll call me if you think of anything else?

yeah. actually -

hm?

I have um. a set of dvd's in the tv stand? if you could bring those? just in boxes is fine. obviously. you should kill me if I ask you to take apart the entire shelving unit and rebuild it for me in this room

well I'm already building a princess bed and I don't even know what the fuck that is, so. if you wanted, I could-

just the boxes, sammy. promise me

and sammy smiles, sharp and quick.

you got it, darling

sammy's never called him vince. he's only ever been darling, since the day they met. when they were on rival teams, it was mocking. once sammy got traded, it was just his name. now, though, this time...it's something different

vince doesn't know quite what it is, just yet, but there's a fondness brewing. he lets it settle deep into his ribs, right where the ache starts

[devcted]

shes never eaten meat, at least not since she was six and first found out about how it gets made. it broke her heart and she remembers being traumatized as a kid wanting to save all the cows from having to feel pain. who could hurt something with such big eyes and kissable noses. theo made fun of her for it, saying it's already a pain in the ass having to do the extra shit especially if they went out to eat somewhere but that's not going to change how she feels, plus her food eas delicious too.

she's a bit surprised by how naturally he takes it, not that it's unnatural to be a vegetarian but in the way he acts as though he's already known. she doesn't remember if she's told him before but it makes her smile either way, because he knew her and he thought it was adorable? even the details behind it. "am I that obvious or are you secretly in love with me?" she teases softly before shaking her head. "you're sweet." she hums.

he explains how he's never cooked vegetarian...or really at all and in an odd way she finds it endearing. something she can teach him makes her a bit excited because she feels as though she's always learning from him, he's so smart and cool....sexy but he can't cook. "it's kind of impossible to go wrong with vegetarian meals but don't worry, I'm ready to teach you everything I know." she smiles softly

she giggles but it's kind of nervous as well as he tells her they're alone now and can do whatever they want. it's inviting, biting down on her lower lip as eyes flicker to his own for all too long. "I meant...more so when there isn't other people close. just you and me and a blanket fort." she hums. "but it does sound tempting, doing whatever we wanted right here." she flirts, smiling shyly as she bites down on her lip. "maybe before the night ends I can show you what I mean..." she wants to kiss him so bad that it almost hurts, even with the fact that maybe she also wants to do a little more than that. but she doesn't think the kitchen is the right place, people can walk in and out and she doesn't want to be interrupted when she's finally got her one chance with the sweet boy of her dreams.

it's then regulus offers her a place to stay if she's really scared of theo. it makes her sick thinking what could happen if theo finds out she's planning to leave him but she also doesn't want to intrude too much, with alfie and merlin and her plants. "are you sure? I have pets and plants and....I don't wanna like, impose." she would like to live with him though, at least for awhile until shes sure she's safe. theo had never straight up threatened her or anything but many things were implied and he had anger issues. plus, being with regulus means getting to know him more and seeing what he looks like in the mornings when no one else sees. "I don't think I feel safe alone though...and if you really want me to stay and don't mind seeing me without make up for the first time then yeah, I'd like that."

now they're on the bathroom together, the only clean place in the apartment because bee refuses to pee somewhere that she'd be scared of catching weird diseases which she's glad because looking at regulus next to her in a clean mirror makes her smile, he's so handsome and you csn tell how he towers over her when looking at it from a third person perspective. he's so tall and sexy in his party outfit, her heart leaps inside her chest.

it's gets worse when he's gently grabbing her wrist and stopping her and offering to fix it himself. she finds it sweet and almost sexy that he claims to know how, not a trait most guys would have. "you're making it really hard not to be obsessed with you. she jokes softly but then she nods, pushing her bag towards him before using her arms to lift herself on the counter, blue eyes looking back at him as she gently swings her feet back and forth. she notices his tattoos peaking out, she'd seen them before, over the time they'd known each other she had counted every tattoo he had on his skin. he had peonies which were strangely one of her favorites as well, she smiles a bit. "peonies are actually my favorite flower." she smiles, she has everything peony scented at home right down to the actual flowers she keeps watered in the apartment garden. "what made you decide you wanted your tattoos?" she says softly, letting her fingers trace against his arm a bit. she only had a few smaller ones herself like the one on her wrist of alfie with pixie wings and his name at the bottom, and then some other random tiny ones, they were nothing compared to his art.

she seems excited to hang out at least, which makes him glad. he loves her company more than anyone he’s ever met, feeling at ease listening to her sweet voice and loving how passionate she is about things. she’s passionate even now, talking about making food together. “i think it’s cute that you’re vegetarian, actually,” he says, because he already knows she is and he knows why. he overheard her mentioning it in class once while talking about how she loves cows. “i know you don’t like eating animals because it makes you sad.” he reaches out again, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “i’ve never cooked for a vegetarian diet before, but i’d like to learn.” he amends himself, feeling a little silly. “actually i haven’t cooked much at all, to be honest. my family, they were rich… and we paid people to do all of that.”

he’s actually pretty sure that part of it was his mother wanting to keep him from learning practical skills, almost like she wanted to encourage him to do whatever she said and wanted, never straying too far from the family legacy. either way, he’s trying to catch up and learn everything now, and sometimes it’s hard. “but anyway, i would love to cook together. but please be patient with me if i make something and it’s so bad it’s classified as a biohazard.” he’s mostly joking, pretty sure he’ll be able to figure it out alright.

she says she would love to spend time with him, especially alone, and he falls quiet, gaze trailing over her. “you know we are alone?” he says quietly, stepping into her space again. “and you can do whatever you want with me.” it’s a gentle invitation, letting her know what he wants but not trying to push any boundaries while she’s upset.

he listens to her quietly as she explains herself and her feelings, saying she likes him and she’s thankful. he never meant to push her to saying she’s thankful or anything, but his heart leaps at hearing she likes him, hoping she means it in the romantic way. his chest clenches a little when she explains how theo scares her, feeling his frown return, upset at the way he keeps hurting her. “please let me protect you, okay? you can stay at my place if you need to… i’ll act like your bodyguard for awhile if i have to, but he’s not going to touch you.”

her hand touches his, making his stomach flutter, and then before he can register anything she’s craning up to place a kiss on his cheek, taking him by surprise. he flushes, warmth flooding through his body. his fingers carefully thread through hers, looking at her almost shyly because he wasn’t expecting this. he nods when she suggests the master bathroom, because he’s at a loss for words.

she leads him through theo’s room, his gaze moving around the space and deciding he’s not impressed. on top of being an awful boyfriend and person, he’s apparently messy too, dirty clothes discarded everywhere and even a beer bottle on his nightstand. he doesn’t understand why theo doesn’t at least clean for bee– she deserves the best, and to be treated like a princess.

the bathroom isn’t as bad and he wonders if that’s because of bee at all. either way, she closes the door behind them and they’re even more alone now. in the reflection of the mirror she looks small beside him, her eyes rimmed with red but still so beautiful that it takes his breath away. her outfit is cute and bright, especially next to his black bomber jacket and opened shirt, the peony tattoos on his chest peeking out. she kind of reminds him of a flower herself– maybe that’s why he loves her so much.

she takes her make up bag out of her purse and he touches her wrist. “get on the counter. i can wash your face and re-apply it. promise i won’t fuck it up– i’ve helped my co-worker before.” he’s thankful he learned because he really wants to help bee right now.

[maybege]

Hidden - Part 2

Summary: Adjusting to omega life is hard but having an alpha like Paz by your side makes it all better.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 7.7k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, fluff, yearning, a tiny bit of angst, a tiny bit of jealousy, nesting, mating, scenting, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Hello hello! I am so excited to now share the second part of Hidden with you ❤ Next week, it's alpha!Din's turn with Unexpected being reposted on Monday and Intentions on Thursday. I hope you enjoy this part and let me know what you think.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

That night you slept in Paz’s bed with him.

You had been so nervous you were afraid no sleep would come to you and you had been right in that you had laid awake for a long time. But with Paz beside you, a thin pillow wall he had erected separating you, you had been warm and you had felt much safer than in a long time.

His scent had been so comforting that even when you had woken up you had smiled into the pillow, noticing how your hand had wandered over the pillow wall and found Paz’. The fact that you had woken up like this, cuddled in blankets and holding his hand, had made your heart skip a beat and all throughout breakfast you were unable to take your eyes off him.

He was … Paz was radiating warmth and love and safety and watching him make breakfast for you as if it was the most normal thing in the entire galaxy was an experience you would never forget. It almost made up for the nest fiasco.

Work at the daycare was rather uneventful. Someone had brought new toys with one of the supply runs which meant that the entire day was spent with the foundlings exploring all the new things they had at their behest.

You knew that Paz had a late meeting today, he had told you so on the way to your workplace, so when the end of your shift came you threw your shawl around your shoulders and went on your way.

The quarters were empty, Din and Grogu still gone on their journey, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you took off your shoes and jacket, wandering into the living quarters. There was a bowl of fruit leftover from the day before which you grabbed and threw yourself on the sofa.

Perhaps Paz had forgotten to close the door to his room this morning because your seat on the sofa offered you an undisturbed view into his room. The end of his bed was visible, his bedding piled on top of it as well as a dark blue blanket.

You squinted your eyes. You had not seen this blanket before. It certainly had not been there yesterday. And it looked soft. Very soft.

Almost as if in a trance, you stood up, making your way to the blanket. Everything in you was full of yearning and when you touched the fabric between your thumb and forefinger you had the sudden urge to bury yourself in the blanket.

You tilted your head. Curious.

You did not know how long you stood there, feeling the fabric between your fingertips. It was so soft, it smelled like him and you wanted … you wanted to lay on it and never get up.

Slowly, you pressed the blanket against your chest before spreading it out on the bed. But you did not like how lonely it looked, how vulnerable and cold, and so you went to the living room, getting another blanket of a similar texture and folding it so you could make it a border for your little blanket fort.

And then you added pillows. All of them. It was fascinating to see which pillow should go where and more than once did you lay down to test the softness before you sat up again and changed it all around.

No other thought occupied your mind as much as to have your nest finished and to lay down and take a nap. It would be the perfect size for you to curl up. Maybe you could even bring some food into it? Or a holovid?

“’mega?” Paz’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked up from your work, frowning as he had interrupted your flow.

But then you became aware of what position he had found you in. In his bed. Building a nest as if it was your space and not his.

“I – I …” you trailed off, your mouth gaping open as you looked at him. He filled out the door frame completely, his shoulders so broad there was hardly any space left and his helmet in his hands. You wished you could press your lips to the patch of skin that was visible beneath his cowl.

“You built a nest!” he exclaimed, a grin forming on his face as he looked at you, “’mega, you – you did it!”

“I did?” you asked, looking at the pillow in your hands and then all around you, “I did!”

The pillows were arranged in a beautiful circle, everything was cushioned and soft and, most important of all, your hand rested on the soft blanket that had started it all. Your fingertips brushed over the fabric and you sighed.

Paz laughed, pure happiness in his voice and walked towards you. “I am so proud of you, ‘mega, you really did it!”

“I did,” you laughed, hardly believing your own ears. You were sitting in your own nest. Your very own nest that you had built like any omega would.

“Do ... do you want to stay here? Is it okay if I sit down?”

You liked Paz, you really did, but at the sight of an alpha approaching your nest, everything in you raised alarm and you stiffened, panic coursing through you. Paz stopped immediately, his hands raised in a gesture to show you he meant no harm.

“You … you can sit down here,” you offered, gesturing to the space next to your nest that was still on the bed, “If that is okay for you?”

“Of course,” he eagerly replied, sitting down and making sure he was not touching your nest in any way. His eyes were soft as he took in your creation before they landed on your face. “I am happy you felt comfortable enough to build your nest here, omega.”

“Me too,” you replied, unable to resist the softness of the nest and laying down until you could press your cheek into one of the pillows, breathing in his scent and looking up at him, “I told you, I feel safe with you, alpha.”

“Good,” Paz said quietly, his big hand taking yours and you sighed contently as his thumb brushed over your scent gland, “I’m glad.”

*

“What do I smell like to you?” he asked you one day as you buried yourself into his chest.

With the colder seasons approaching, the frost was seeping into the earth and even the covert. This night was especially cold and Paz had not even hesitated when you had knocked at his door but simply opened it for you and wandered back to bed.

He was like a furnace next to you and you caught yourself thinking that you wanted to spend every night like this. Wrapped up in his arms with your head bedded on his chest. His hand was warm on your back, rough fingertips drawing random patterns on your bare skin and even though your eyes were dropping close your heart began to race.

It was not like that question was particularly difficult to answer.

“You smell like the forest and – and campfires,” you answered quietly, your hand spreading out over his chest, “warmth and – and safe. You smell safe.”

The alpha underneath you hummed and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched when you felt his lips on your forehead, pressing a careful kiss there and you bit your lip to suppress your happy smile.

“Can you – Can you tell me what I smell like?”

The truth was you had always wondered what you smelled like. After years of blocking your scent, you simply did not know and now your brain was too overwhelmed to recognize your own scent apart from others.

With Paz, you felt safe enough to ask him.

“You smell of flowers and fresh things and spring rain,” he chuckled, “you smell like when the earth gets warmer again, the snow melting on the mountain tops. You smell,” he paused, “You smell … you smell perfect. Like … like scenting you would be the best thing in the galaxy.”

“I – I never actually scented anyone,” you mused, a strange longing in your chest at the thought. You had heard some of the omegas talk about it once but hearing Paz talk about it now … You wanted to have that. You wanted to have him scent you and be close to him and bury your nose in his neck and never leave his arms again.

“Do you want to try it?” he asked quietly, his fingers not ceasing their movements on your back.

You nodded, slowly sitting up and trying to get your excitement and nervousness under control.

But then you just ended up kneeling cluelessly in front of him while he was sitting against the headboard, “How do I …?”

Paz smile, tilting his head to the side, “Just here,” he bared the side of his neck, his smell getting stronger, “Just follow your instinct. You know how it is done.”

You swallowed and nodded, steeling yourself as if you a big challenge. Slowly, you leant closer to him, your breath trembling.

“Go on, ‘mega,” he encouraged you quietly, his hand on your back keep you to him. Slowly, you dragged your nose across his scent gland, that sensitive patch of skin that exuded most of his pheromones. Paz shuddered beneath you, a quiet groan leaving him and you smiled. You repeated the motion, breathing him in and in a rush of courage, you pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin.

He rumbled, his hand on your back pushing you even closer and without taking your nose off his neck, you threw one leg over his hips, straddling him.

“You smell so good,” you whispered, rubbing the tip of your nose over his scent gland again, trying to get as much of your scent on to him. A possessiveness overtook you at the thought that people would smell you on him. They would know he let you do this. That you had scented him.

“Do – do you want me to scent you?” Paz asked breathlessly, his voice hoarse, “O-only to see what it feels like?”

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your lips brushing over his skin, your body feeling boneless against his, “Please scent me, alpha.”

“Stars, the things you say,” he grunted, pushing his face into your neck and when his nose brushed against your scent gland you gasped. A tingling feeling shot through you reaching from your hair to your toes.

“Like that?” he asked quietly and you hummed, baring your throat to him even more. His nose ran along the sensitive patch of skin again and you gasped again, your mouth opening against his throat in an effort to return the pleasure he was giving you.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispered, his nose nudging just under your ear, his lips brushing along your neck and your hands flexed on his shoulders.

“Uh-huh,” you whined, eagerly nodding, rubbing your nose along his skin.

His hands tightened on your middle, and his hot breath fanned over your skin, already making you see stars but then his lips touched your skin, pressing a soft kiss there and you sighed, your hands trembling from how excited you were.

And then, then his tongue brushed over your skin, his teeth nipping at your jaw, a cascade of stimulations running over you and suddenly your eyes fluttered closed, your mouth falling open as you took an unsteady breath in. Paz growled, his hand wandered up to the back of your neck, tilting your head more to the side.

“Stars, you smell good,” he whispered before diving back in, pressing open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach as you writhed in his arms. You felt your thighs quivering, wetness collecting between your legs and all you wanted was to feel him. To feel more of him.

“Is it always like this?” you asked breathlessly, gasping when he sucked on your skin, “T-this good?”

Paz pulled away from you and you instantly missed him, turning your head and chasing his lip in a moment of absolute shamelessness. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “I – I have never tried it like this.”

His hands were still holding your head, making you look at him.

“Omega,” he started, his eyes searching yours and your breath hitched in your throat, “Omega, I hope you know how special you are to me.”

“You – you are special to me, too,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as his nose nudged against yours. It felt like your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would fly out of your chest at any moment.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, so close that you could feel his lips move against yours and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

*

The children were playing ball in a bigger hall, the room filled with giggles and shouts and screams – a noise volume only the little ones could keep up constantly – and you smiled, watching them with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

It always made you happy to spend time with the foundlings. They were the future of the covert, after all, and the future of Mandalorians as a whole. Being able to give them a home, to let them grow up with love and affection and respect was something that you would never tire of.

The door opened and you stood up straighter when you smelled that it was Paz who had joined you. You frowned. Shouldn’t he be at work at the moment? He had said something about a meeting concerning the supplies this morning, that certainly did not sound like he had enough free time to visit you.

You turned around and saw him quietly talking to your colleague, Shenna, motioning to you and she frowned before nodding, waving you to them. You threw one last look at the foundlings, making sure none of them was in immediate trouble before walking over to them.

Shenna approached you halfway, a sad smile on her face, “I will watch them for a few minutes, take your time.”

You frowned, more concern filling you. Why did she look at you with pity in her eyes? Why was Paz here when he really shouldn’t be? Why did you get a sudden break from work?

“What is going on?” you asked him without preamble as soon as you were out of earshot from the foundlings, “Why are you smelling like this?”

“You can smell me?” Paz asked, surprise in his voice, “You’re making progress, ‘mega.”

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the endorphins that rushed through you at his praise. “Tell me, Paz,” you asked him, “Why are you here?”

With a deep exhale, his helmet making static sounds, his shoulders fell and his hand reached out to touch yours. “Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?”

Numbly, you nodded, leading him to a smaller room where the younger foundlings would be taken for their nap. The room was empty now, a little darker since the lights were always dimmed. Paz closed the door behind him, turning the lock and your breath hitched as he took off his helmet and put it on a table.

His eyes met yours as he swallowed, “I have been chosen to accompany a convoy to the covert a few systems over and see if we can get some suppressants for those who need them. It – I know it is not ideal, especially since I promised I would be here for you but –“

“No,” you blurted out, your mouth quicker than your brain as you looked at him with wide eyes and started to shake your head, “No, Paz, I – no.”

“’mega,” he murmured, instantly stepping closer to you as if to calm you but even his warm hand on your shoulders did not relieve any of the weight on your heart, “Nothing will happen to you while I am away, Din promised to keep an eye out on Dreks and –“

“It’s not about me, alpha,” you protested quietly, resting your cheek against his chest and listening to his heartbeat, “It’s dangerous outside. What if you get hurt? What if you don’t come back?”

The thought brought tears to your eyes and you felt your breath come in quicker. Paz not coming home was not an option. You were not ready to let him go and you doubted you would ever be. Losing him now … Your hands tightened around him.

“I’ll be alright I promise,” he murmured, his fingers finding your scent gland and softly tracing patterns over it, scenting you, “Nothing and no one will keep me from you.”

You nodded, sniffling against his chest. “I just want you to be safe,” you admitted, “I – I will miss you. Do you know how long you will be gone?”

Paz sighed, his head burying itself in your neck and when you did not shy away, his cold nose ran up your throat. You giggled at the temperature difference and Paz kissed the cold spot, making you feel warmer than before.

“I don’t know how long I will be gone,” he said, sounding displeased, “The council was rather vague about it. Kriffin’ planning committee could not even tell me when we would start when it is already today, I –“ he sighed, his forehead falling against yours, “I wish I could say goodbye properly.”

You wondered what that entailed, your head filling with images of him kissing your knuckles, maybe even your neck as he had done a few nights ago. A very hopeful part in you wished for a true kiss.

“I might not know how long I will be gone but I know that I’d like you to sleep in my bed if you wish,” he finally said, a small smile on his lips as he looked at you, “I can’t stand the thought of you on that cold sofa when you’re all alone …”

“Are you sure?” you asked, cheeks blazing, “When you come back the whole bed will smell like me.”

“Only more reasons to look forward to coming home,” he teased you. He wanted to say more, you could see his mouth opening again but then he was interrupted by a beeping sound from his vambrace and you frowned.

His eyebrows knotted together as well and when he read the message you could smell the sadness and the frustration coming through. “It is time.”

“Okay,” you nodded, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. You were not ready. You were not ready, you wanted to cuddle with him in his bed and eat together and take walks and know that you could hide behind him while you passed Dreks in the hallways and you were not ready.

“I look forward to seeing you again, omega,” he said, his thumb drifting over your scent gland one last time before he turned around and put his helmet back on again.

“Please be safe, Paz, yes?” you asked quietly, feeling strangely lonely even though he was not even standing at the other side of the room, “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me neither,” he murmured, taking one last look at you and then he was gone.

That night you cried yourself to sleep.

*

It took five days, five whole days, until the news came that the ship that had left the covert at the beginning of the week would be expected back within the hour. You had been at the daycare when the transmission came and Shenna had only thrown one look at you before nodding for you to go ahead to the terminal.

“I know how much you have missed him,” she smiled kindly, “Go and greet your alpha.”

You were so happy you had not even corrected her that he was not your alpha. Because truth be told, you wanted him to be yours and, in some way, you were sure he already was.

After all, he had let you into his home and his bed (although nothing had happened in said bed) and he saw you as family. More than ever it became clearer to you that he had never even hesitated to take his helmet off for you. Sure, when it came to the dinner most Mandalorians, depending on what Creed they followed, took their helmet off but it was another matter entirely when there was no food involved.

The first day he and Din had taken you home, he had just … shown his face to you without hesitation. He had seen you as family, as a part of the people that were closest to him, and it was something that filled your heart with warmth.

And also, courage.

Courage to talk to him about the things you were feeling for him. Courage to ask him if he felt the same.

Out of all the people he knew, he had come to youto say goodbye. He had wanted to see youlast before he left for an unknown amount of time. He had wanted you to sleep in his bed.

Needless to say, the grin was etched into your face as you rushed through the covert, your feet almost too quick for your body to follow. Something that sleeping in Paz’ bed brought with it was that you smelled like him. Not as strong as when he had scented you but strong enough for other alphas to smell it and leave you alone. Especially Dreks.

There were already people packed into the room and you stood on your tiptoes, trying to see past the many heads and helmets to see if they had arrived yet. When a cheer went through the crowd you knew they had.

“They really managed to bring the suppressants,” a man in front of you told his neighbour in bewilderment, “I thought they wouldn’t make it.”

“It would not have worked without the other covert’s cooperation,” the woman next to him revealed, “That’s why they sent one of their ambassadors with them. That Lufta woman, I think.”

Their conversation stopped as the crates were unloaded and everyone was able to greet the returning crew. You felt giddy and excited, your heart pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to wait until the crowd has dissipated a bit. You wanted to have time with him and not feel rushed by everyone who wanted to welcome him back again.

When your view cleared, your eyes immediately fell on him. He was in his full armour, the dark blue beskar gleaming in the light as he helped carry the crates out of the ship. Stars, you felt like you could fly from happiness. He was there and he was safe and he looked so good and –

Your nose scrunched up.

What was that?

A sharp smell had nestled into your nostrils and it took you a moment that the smell came from her.

And from him.

Your frowned, not quite understanding what was going on because two people could not smell the same. Not unless they had scented each other.

You tried your best to keep your thoughts from falling down a rabbit hole – why had he scented her? Probably because he loved her. He loved her and not you and maybe he had mated her and you were just the stupid omega who did not know how to be an omega and keeping him from his bed? – you really did. But seeing him talking to her, his head nodding as he unloaded another crate, you could feel your heart cracking just a bit.

His head shot up.

The crate he held in his hands fell onto the others, landing a little roughly, and people turned their heads at the sudden noise but by then Paz was already halfway to where you were standing. There was an urgency in his step and the close he came the more you could smell him. His joy and relief at seeing you.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“Omega,” he breathed, coming to stand in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, “You are hurting. Come with me.”

He led you to behind a pillar, the structure big enough to hide you both from view. You did not say anything, your mouth too busy gasping for air as you breathed him in. He did not smell like her so strongly after all. Only a little … but still too much.

“What is going on, ‘mega?” he asked, his helmet tilting to the side, “Are – are you jealous?”

You pouted, unused to the tightness in your chest. You were happy to see him, you really were, but with her smell in your nose you felt … left alone almost. Strangely betrayed.

“’m not,” you tried to deny, knowing that your voice betrayed you. Paz did not say anything and you deflated, your shoulders falling as you admitted, “You smell like her.”

“What?”

“You smell like her,” you repeated in an ashamed whisper, “You … did she scent you?”

“No,” he answered vehemently, “never, omega. I would never scent anyone … not when I have you and … no. No, she did not scent me and I did not scent her. We just spend time in a small spaceship is all.”

“Do you want to scent me?” he asked after a while, looking around the pillar and when no one seemed to be approaching, he took his helmet off. Your eyes widened, seeing the rings under his eyes and how exhausted he seemed to be. But then it was Paz and you smiled, tears collecting in your eyes because you were so happy to see him again and see that he was safe.

You nodded slowly, smiling when he stepped closer to you, trapping you against the pillar as his hands landed on the stone next to your head.

“Come on then,” he whispered, baring his throat for you, “Go on and scent me, ‘mega, I – I dreamt of you when I was away.”

He did not need to say anything more. With a smile, you rubbed your nose across his scent gland, happy to not that he had been telling the truth. The woman’s scent was faint at best, more an environmental aspect than him having her close. But now that his familiar scent filled your nose again, you could hardly get enough of him. Your lips brushed against his scent gland and Paz growled, pushing his hips forward and you gasped, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed into your ear, his arms carefully wrapping around you and hugging you to him, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, alpha,” you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks as you kept scenting him.

“Can I?” he asked, his nose ever so slightly brushing against your throat and you nodded, gasping for breath when he started to rub the tip of his nose across your neck. It was just the gentlest of movements, slowly warming you up before his mouth came into play, planting a row of kisses there.

Your arms wandered around his neck, pulling him closer and he obliged, completely caging you in against the cold stone pillar. As you nipped at his skin, he grunted his hips snapping forward, rubbing against you and you gasped when you felt him hard against your belly.

Your mouth opened, wandering up to where his beard met his jaw and suddenly his teeth scraped over your scent gland and your knees buckled, eyes fluttering shut at the pure pleasure that ran through you. His arms held you up by your middle and only with great reluctance did he part from you.

Both of you were out of breath and you managed to smile slightly at him, your cheeks still hot from arousal and love, “Hi.”

He chuckled, his forehead falling against yours, “Hello, omega. Happy to see me?”

“Very,” you breathed, tilting your head up so your lips were almost touching but someone called Paz’ name and you saw how his face fell.

“I think I need to get back,” he grumbled, “Will – will you wait for me? It should only take a few minutes and I have a surprise for you.”

At the mention of a surprise, you perked up, following him with excitement as he put his helmet back on and stepped back into the light. Most of the crates were unloaded by now but he went to help the last few that were unloaded and you happily waited in the empty space of the terminal, watching your alpha with a smile.

“I knew that scent was familiar somehow,” a voice said from beside you and you turned to find Lufta staring haughtily at you, “The story of you has wandered across the coverts. One could almost say you are a legend.”

You did not say anything but simply stared at her. It was difficult to figure her out but what you were sure of was that she did not have friendly intentions. Rather the opposite.

“Of course, legends are used to warn us,” she continued, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Paz as well, “Something he might not have realized yet.”

“I am not hurting him,” you stated, offended by her implication and by the way she was eyeing the object of your affections. Yes, Paz had told you he would never scent her but maybe she wanted him to?

“Of course, you aren’t,” Lufta smiled, “But you are also not a real omega, aren’t you? You don’t even know how to be one. Face it, an alpha like Paz,” she trailed off, her eyes following his every move, “An alpha like Paz would never want an omega like you.”

Rage filled you. Pure, unfiltered rage. Because no matter what she was saying, you knew it was not true.

Paz would never leave you like that.

Never.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, approaching you both with a large boy in his arms. You could hear the grin in his voice, the impatience to finally leave and you smiled, not wanting to upset him over how rude Lufta was being.

“I was just remarking how kind it is of you to let her practice scenting on you,” the woman replied, smiling tightly at you and your stomach sank, your smile turning sour.

“Oh, it is not practice,” Paz corrected her easily, before turning to you, “Ready to go home?”

You had never nodded this quickly in your life.

*

With a groan, Paz lowered the box onto his work table in his bedroom, “I can’t wait for you to open it.”

“Please eat something,” you mumbled, having just returned from the kitchen.

“Omega, I don’t –“

“I have seen how tired you are,” you cut him off, the worry was clear in your voice as you held out the steaming bowl of soup, “You need some food, a shower and a fresh set of clothes, alpha, and then I can open as many surprises as you like.”

Paz took his helmet off, the way his arms moved slowly showing you that you were right. When his face was revealed you saw the small smile on his lips, the soft gaze in his eyes as he slowly bumped his forehead against yours. The implication did not escape you. A kiss. A Mandalorian kiss.

“Alright, if you insist, ‘mega,” he whispered, “I will freshen up and eat something and then I will show you your gift, okay?”

You smiled, “Okay.”

He managed to take off his armour in record time and you watched in fascination that even in his exhaustion he put the pieces orderly next to each other on the table to be polished later. The pants and shirt he wore beneath the beskar pieces were stained with sweat and dirt and your heart skipped a beat as he pulled the shirt over his head, revealing the muscles working in his back.

Stars, he looked good.

With Paz having disappeared into the refresher, you busied yourself with straightening out your nest on his bed. You hoped that he would not mind you continuing to sleep here but it would not be fair to him for your nest to take up more than half of the bed.

As your hands rearranged the fabrics, an idea sparked in your head and you paused. What if … what if Paz could join you in your nest? What if he could sleep in there too? The first time you had built it, the thought of any alpha in your nest had scared you to your bones. But now nothing sounded better than Paz curled up with you in your nest, his big hands holding yours.

Maybe you could show him your feelings by making a nest for the two of you?

Before the thought had finished in your head, you were already working on extending the fabrics, rearranging the blankets and widening the circles that formed your safe space. Now that it was bigger, it looked a little bare but that would hardly be noticeable when a giant alpha like yours was lying in there.

“What are you doing?” his voice came from behind you and you whipped around, suddenly nervous at having to explain to him what you had done.

“I – Well, I thought,” you swallowed, your eyes greedily taking in his body. He was freshly showered, only a towel wrapped low around his hips and it should be forbidden to look this good. Forbidden. “I thought maybe you wanted to join me some time,” you explained quietly, averting your gaze, “In my nest, I mean. I – I would like that.”

“Omega,” he murmured quietly and when you looked up there was pure wonder in his eyes, “Omega, I would love that. Are you sure though? An alpha in your nest –“

“I want you there,” you assured him, taking a step towards him eagerly, “I want you in my nest, alpha, and I – I wish I could find words to tell you how much you mean to me and I know I am so,” you sighed in frustration, “I am so shy and – and –“

This time it was Paz making a step closer, his hands coming up to your shoulders as he looked at you. “Before you say anything, omega, can I show you my surprise?”

You nodded, relieved to have gained a few minutes to think about what you were going to say and how you were going to say it. After all, you did not want to mess this up and Paz was so kind. So loving. He deserved to be told that he was loved by you. Every day and every night and every single second of every day.

The large man waved you over to the table before working on opening it. “When I was at the other covert, they had their market day and, well, see for yourself.”

The box opened and you gasped, your hands shooting out to touch what was inside.

Fabrics. Blankets and pillows and lots of fabrics, all so soft to the touch. Softer than anything you had ever seen or felt.

“Paz,” you whispered in astonishment, “Are these for me?”

He nodded, “All of them. I figured you could use them for a more comfortable nest, I know that my fabrics are not the newest ones and I – Omega, I want you to be comfortable here … with me.”

Tears filled your eyes as you lifted a piece of fabric out of the box. It was a light grey cotton soft and breathable and the perfect blanket for a heat and he had bought it for you. He had brought a whole box of things for your nest. He was providing for you, showing you that he cared and –

“I love you,” you blurted out, the fabrics in your hands as you gazed at him, “I love you, alpha.”

“Omega –“

“I do,” you continued, unable to stop the flood of words now that it was out in the open, “I loved you before all of this and I love you even more now. You are – you are so kind, Paz, kind and safe and warm and you smell incredible and I don’t ever want to be parted from you and I love you so much it hurts sometimes and –“

Warm lips landed on yours. You gasped, the fabric falling to the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss in full. His chest was warm against yours and when his mouth opened, his tongue darting out over the seam of your lips, you opened for him, relishing in the taste of him.

“I love you too, omega,” he whispered between kisses, his mouth latching onto your jaw and sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin, “When I thought you were a beta I couldn’t bear the thought of you mating with some beta and then,” he groaned when you bared your throat for him, his hand holding you by the back of your neck and tilting your head up so he could kiss you in full, “then I smelled you that day and I knew you were mine. My omega. I love you.”

You giggled, grinning into his kisses, nipping on his bottom lip and sighing into him as his other hand settled on your back, pulling you closer to him.

“Will you mark me?” you asked breathlessly, elated and excited and feeling absolutely invincible. Your alpha loved you. Your alpha was really your alpha.

“Now?” he asked, a teasing grin on his lips as he pecked your cheek, “You want to put that nest to use already, ‘mega?”

Your core pulsed at the thought and your throat was suddenly very dry. You nodded.

He grinned, leading you back to the bed by your hand and you followed him, allowing yourself to shamelessly gaze at his body. His bare chest, his strong arms, his huge thighs … the bulge that seemed to be only emphasized by the towel he was wearing …

When your hands went to your skirt, Paz stopped you. “Let me undress you,” he asked quietly, “Lay down and let me unwrap you like the present you are.”

Heat shot into your cheeks and you nodded, climbing into your nest and instantly becoming wetter at how huge he looked, looming over you. One of your fingers trailed down his chest and hooked into the hem of his towel and Paz grinned.

“Someone is needy, I see,” he teased you, leaning down kissing you again, nipping at your bottom lip rather forcefully and you yelped, arching your back so you could be closer to him. “Go on then,” he encouraged you, “Look all you want, love.”

A tug at the towel later, Paz was completely bare above you and your eyes widened. He was hard and leaking, thick and slightly curved and at the base, you could see where his knot would be. You swallowed, a little intimated by the size of him but also yearning for him to be inside you.

“Don’t worry,” he rumbled, “I won’t be knotting you today, omega, I think you might be too tight for that. But you can touch all you want.”

He did not need to tell you twice.

Gently you wrapped your hand around his girth, your fingers not able to reach around all of him but he groaned lowly at the touch and so you carefully stroked him, looking at his face to see his reaction. There was a frown on his face, almost as if he was in pain but the way he bit his lip told you otherwise and with a smile you went onto your elbows and kissed his neck, only missing his scent gland by mere millimetres.

With one arm supporting himself over you, his hand reached out to your blouse, unbuttoning it in record speed and baring your chest to him. You arched your back, shuddering when his thumb brushed over your nipple, having it pebble under his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath fanning over your lips, “My pretty little omega.”

You keened, your cheeks blazing under his praise and you kissed him softly. His lips were soft against yours and you smiled into him, relishing in the proximity of your alpha. Your alpha.

He groaned when your thumb swept over his tip, spreading the drop of precum over him. You felt small under him, especially when you saw how your hand compare against his cock. How would he fit inside you? Would he fit inside you at all?

You pouted, the urge to feel him inside you too big to be happy with just pleasuring him just like that. No matter how big his fingers were, they would just not be enough.

His fingertips were rough and calloused as they brushed over your skin, wandering from your chest over your belly to your core. “You think you are wet enough to take me?” he asked breathlessly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded quickly, gasping when his fingers carefully swept through the wetness between your thighs.

One finger gently pushed inside you and you smiled at the slight stretch. Your walls parted for him effortlessly, so wet it almost felt like they were sucking him in. When his thumb landed on your clit your legs twitched and you tried to rub against him somewhere, both of your hands in the way of any full body contact.

“Someone’s eager, huh?” Paz chuckled, adding a second finger that made you keen. Letting go of him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing your face into his scent gland and kissing every single patch of skin you could reach.

“It feels so good, alpha,” you breathed, your tongue darting out to soothe that sensitive spot, “Please – please, I need you inside me, Paz.”

Your alpha cursed under his breath, letting his weight completely fall on you for a moment before lifting himself on his forearms.

“Ready, love?” he asked, rubbing the tip of him through your folds and you felt if he would not push into you, you would explode.

“Yes,” you gasped, “Please.”

His eyes did not leave yours as he entered you in a slow push, parting your walls and stretching you so far you were sure there was no way he would fit inside you. Every nerve ending was stimulated and you moaned as his thumb circled your clit, your walls clamping around him, causing him to grunt.

“Kriff,” he cursed, his breath coming heavy, “You really are tight, omega, are you sure you can take me?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, opening your thighs wider and wrapping them around his hips, “Please, alpha, I want more.”

He pressed his lips against yours urgently, nipping at your bottom lip aggressively and pulled out of your slowly before thrusting back in. You both groaned, his hips pushing yours into the mattress and you swore you felt him deeper than you ever had imagined.

“You feel so good,” you whispered against his lips, feeling incredibly close to him, “Don’t stop, Paz, please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he swore into your ear, picking up his pace, “I will never leave you, ‘mega, never.”

You bared your throat, throwing your head back into the pillow as he hit that spot that made you see stars. Never had you felt this full, never had you felt this fulfilled.

His thumb continued to work on your clit, making your reach higher and higher and higher until he slammed into you, all that was left to do was to hold on for dear life.

His teeth sank into your neck, breaking the skin and you came harder than you ever had before. Your thighs were trembling around his hips, your fingernails sinking into his shoulders as you tried to hold onto anything that could keep you grounded lest you fly away into the stars. You whined into his neck, tears streaming down your face as your walls milked him of everything he had to give.

Paz kept his teeth in you for as long as it took you both to calm down from your highs. Only then did he open his mouth, laving at your wound with his tongue, his hand gently holding you to him. “Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, his nose nudging the space under your ears and you shuddered.

“No, it’s just very sensitive,” you answered truthfully, turning your head slowly and looking at him. His gaze was warm and soft and you could feel his love wash over you. HE sifted, slowly pulling out of you and you both winced at the squelching sound, followed by his come slowly dripping out of you.

“When I knot you that won’t happen,” Paz remarked, a small frown on his face as he watched his come leak out of you, “You will be a full and happy omega.”

Your laughter turned into a grimace as your core felt particularly tender. “Believe me I am happy whether you fill me or not,” you assured him, “Now come lay down with me, alpha, you must be tired. Did you even sleep on that ship?”

Paz let himself fall next to you with a huff, his large body taking up so much space you felt cosy and warm in the big nest. “Hardly,” he admitted, “I wanted to get back as quickly as possible and,” he yawned, his big arm stretching around your shoulders and pulling you into him, “And getting back to you was more important than sleep.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission and you snuggled closer to him, your naked body sufficiently warmed up by him next to you. Pressing a kiss to his chest, you bedded your head on the space where his arm met his shoulder. “Now you are here though,” you whispered, softly drawing patterns over his skin and watching as his lashes fluttered, “And you can sleep, alpha. I will be here when you wake up.”

“How long I have dreamed of that,” he humbled, already falling half asleep, “Having you in my arms forever, omega.”

You smiled, knowing that now both of your dreams had come true.

[dourpeep]

IT WAS 2AM WHEN I SENT THAT SO I HELD BACK MY SIMPING FOR COLLEGE ALBEDO A LITTLE. tried not to send all my brainrot so I didn't just send a wall of text into your inbox LOL. Some others I thought of were:

- Mona giving astrology forecasts and compatibility readings in this au and Albedo may have asked her about the two of you

- Going to botanical gardens or museums with Albedo but for some reason it feels like a date even when it didn't intent to be. You tug on his sleeve now and then when you see something he might be interested in or even when it's something that excites you, and Albedo can't help but have a soft look in his eyes that he can share this moment with you! Somehow it results in the two of you holding hands - just so neither of you stray from each other of course - and eventually, intertwined fingers. You hear someone say that the two of you seem like a cute couple and you know Albedo heard it too, but neither of you say anything. You feel his hand squeeze yours a little tighter and respond in kind. The two of you are too embarrassed to look at each other but can't help the smiles on your faces.

- Lending Albedo some of your favourite books for pleasure reading and you've left tiny tabs on lines that you like. Perhaps this is before Albedo realizes his feelings so when he reads particularly romantic lines, he wonders if this is how he feels about you. Or did you mark these pages because you feel this way about someone? His stomach is in knots to the thought that you may be intrested in someone that isn't him and he settles for it just being prose.

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS SO CUTE AAA. THANK YOU FOR SIMPING FOR COLLEGE BEDO WITH ME!!

Tugging his hand and not letting go omg . . . you tend to just intertwine pinkies or play with his fingers absent-mindedly that Albedo becomes so accustomed to it so he starts to offer you his hands without a second thought.

WAIT. I gasped at Albedo being a cuddler. He's a little delirious when he first wakes up but you're so comfy that he hugs you a little tighter, asking if you've slept well. You try to reply while worrying about whether or not he can feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

What if Klee is staying with Albedo one night and the three of you fall asleep cuddled up together. Alice comes back early in the morning before any of you are awake and takes a picture. She sends it to Albedo later and he sets it as his phone's wallpaper.

Albedo staring at your lips winded me, thank you.

YES TO THE SWEATERS. I bet Albedo would have the softest and coziest sweaters too! Imagine it being a little cold out and you see Albedo across campus so you bound over to him and give him a hug. You nuzzle into him and mumble out a little 'hello' and say he's warm. You feel his laugh rumble through his chest while he greets you back, wrapping his arms around you

And I LOVE ALL YOUR HEADCANONS! I believe I found your blog around the time you posted Albedo's snort headcanon and it was too much for my heart!! I held tight to that headcanon and never let go lol. I also thought the science + college headcanons you had of him were really nice despite not being necessarily romantic!

Side note: I looked up that lobster fact and that's so cool!!

The Lobster Fact(tm) is my go-to ice breaker and it always fails. I'd imagine it's normally the same w/ Bedo OTL so sad...not many wish to know about potential lobster immortality.

I'm glad that you love the headcanons though!! I enjoy writing for Albedo so so much as you can tell ehe

That being said--if it makes you more comfy to send stuff in a few bursts of asks, I don't mind :DD I'll answer them as usual nodnod

OKIE DOKIE

-

"...Mona, yes?"

"Ah, I was expecting you to come around sooner or later, Kreideprinz."

Really, Albedo didn't mean to stumble upon the Astronomy major, but for some reason the thought of you has been on his mind and the campus' observatory just so happened to be on the way. With the meager hope that...maybe he'd find some sort of answer (in what, he wasn't really sure himself), there she was.

Luckily, she knew just what he was there for.

The moment that she twirls her hand with a wave, telling him that there isn't anything to worry about, the apprehension creeping within his chest at the thought of seeing you next-

disappeared.

It's not often that he turns to less orthodox methods, but he wouldn't lie. Knowing that--at least in Mona's opinion (which tended to be correct, anyway)--the two of you were undoubtly compatible? Something about how your constellations were intertwined...

In fact, Albedo turns a little theory around in his mind. Though based in old folktales, the idea that you gravitate towards those who are made of the very same stardust as yourself, suddenly made sense.

Or, perhaps he was just being hopeful.

-

Little does he know that you most definitely asked Mona about the same thing earlier that day.

-

AHHHHH BUT OF COURSE-

Any of those kinds of places--Botanical Gardens, Art Museums, Aquariums, Zoos, Museums in general--Any place where you're able to utterly lose yourself in your surroundings and look around in awe, really, are your go-to date outing destination!

Usually, it's just the two of you, maybe with Sucrose or Timaeus if it's for a particular class, as well as the occasional Klee in tow whenever Alice is busy with work.

But in this case, fingers interlocked, it's just the two of you on a impromptu trip to the art museum downtown after seeing a promotional banner about a new exhibit. Once inside, you rush along, Albedo trailing close behind with a light squeeze of your hand. The large area used for temporary exhibits isn't far from the entrance, so it's not long until you skid to a stop.

All along the walls are incredibly detailed oil paintings, the thin layered strokes glistening in the light. Albedo takes a moment to whisper to you about how oil paint works.

Due to the thinness of the paint and it's transparency, light passes through every carefully placed stroke, allowing for a unique sort of depth that isn't achievable with other painting media. You smile, the artificial light of the art exhibit making your features glow and Albedo can't help but wonder if you are like those paintings.

So complex, so carefully created in an image perfected with time. Your eyes search his and you say his name and Albedo clears his throat when he realizes he's been staring.

"Do you like this one?"

Ah, you must've assumed he took a liking to this particular painting.

His eyes shift back to it, taking in the sight of the balance of color, the composition, then back to you. He only stares a second longer before nodding.

Whether or not you realize the view he likes is you is something that he dwells on as you both make your way to the next painting.

-

If you had a penny for every time that someone comments on the way you compliment each other, you'd probably be able to pay off your tuition for next semester.

Okay, perhaps not, but the idea still stands.

You're only just at the end of the art exhibit when the security guard wishes the two of you a lovely date. Something about how young love is something to be treasured, something about how the two of you already seem so natural and comfortable in each other's presence.

Before you can mumble out an explanation, Albedo just squeezes your hand, gentle as always, and smiles.

It's a compliment, right? For someone to see how close you are, even if you really are just friends, is a good thing.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads over your cheeks, you smile and turn your head away shyly. Squeezing his hand back, the thought of what it'd be like if you were together crosses your mind.

-

Just as you lend books to him, he lends books to you. Surprisingly, this time it just so happens to be a poetry book--something that you expressed interest in a week ago but ended up not getting.

Within, he's left colorful notes with his neat, slanted writing.

Short discussions (presumably questions to himself) of what the poet must've been thinking, different possible scenarios, are peppered throughout the book. But one just so happens to catch your eye. Rather than a question, it's a statement. Simple, short, and...sweet.

'You carry the aura of the stars.'

The little yellow sticky note pasted beneath a love poem to the night sky stands out. Suppressing a flutter in your chest, you continue reading through the poem book with a few giggles at Albedo's musings until you find a note with most of the words crossed out.

It's entirely unlike him, the way that the dark ink scribbled over the words, making them illegible.

But at the bottom was a continued attempt--one you presume he was satisfied with by the way it lay pristine on the colorful paper.

'You look. I fail to speak.

Your mind, so brilliant as it is I wish to see behind To further appreciate the one I love.

I can only hope one day you shall let me in, So for now I wait patiently by your side.'

Who could he have written this for? You can't help but stare at the poetic attempt, knowing full well that Albedo seldom does something without meaning.

The book closes and you tuck it back on the shelf to ask about later.

-

AAAAA YESYESYESYES I LOVE THAT CUDDLE PILE W/ ALBEDO AND KLEE

Even though Albedo's a grade A student and certified genius (he's adamant in his denial, shaking his head and mumbling about how he just studies hard), he's not entirely a stickler for rules.

Well, that is, Aunt Alice's suggestion that Klee goes to bed by 9.

Instead, the three of you settle in the common room of Albedo's place in a bundle of pillows and blankets at the demands of a pillow fort.

The tv blinks on accompanied by the near silent click of the remote.

"What should we watch?"

Klee always ends up picking the movie. This time, she wants Alice in Wonderland, commenting on how the bunny is like her best friend Dodoco and the blonde girl on screen is named after mommy. Albedo doesn't bother correcting her, even though he knows quite well that dear, sweet Dodoco is a chinchilla.

Between sips of juice and a few mouthfuls of popcorn, the three of you fall asleep, Klee curled up besides you and Albedo's arm draped over you both.

Even when the sun is up in the sky, you sleep peacefully.

So, naturally, Aunt Alice has a spare key just in case something like this happens.

Immediately she's met with the sweetest view--her two kids (she's practically adopted Albedo as her own at this point) and--

Hiding a cheeky smile behind her hand, Alice can't help but sneak a little closer when she spies the way that you and Albedo somehow gravitated closer, his face buried in your hair and yours resting against his collar. Wedged between you with tousled hair, Klee snoozes peacefully.

She snaps a picture, followed by another, and another, and a fourth for good measures before meandering into the kitchen to prep something for breakfast.

Might as well let her three favorite people enjoy the comfort of sleep for a little longer...

You wake up the moment that Klee wiggles her way out of the blankets, nuzzling against the warmth radiating under your cheek.

Nice and cozy. Smells nice...wait.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with a familiar birthmark and the nearly gone scent of Albedo's cologne.

You nearly pull away until the arm, now wrapped around your waist, pulls you closer accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Ah. You shut your eyes tight when you realize that Albedo's going to be asleep for at least another thirty minutes, resigning to your fate gladly.

Of course, Alice takes the opportunity to snap a few more pictures when you've finally fallen back asleep.

-

YES ALSO ALSO

Speaking of Albedo and sweaters and warm and also the just mentioned cologne. A little fun tidbit--not only are you familiar with the scent of his cologne because he wears it often, but it (in this au) is actually one that you picked out some time back. You probably were at the store together smelling some of the perfumes when you came across one that you were pleasantly surprised by.

Specifically, something that's lightly floral, a little warm but sweet with a hint of earthiness.

The pros? It fits Albedo perfectly! It also kinda sticks well and his place faintly smells of it.

The cons?? Well...you're embarrassed to say that hugging Albedo tends to drag on a little longer than anticipated because it's just such a comforting scent-

Not because you associate it with Albedo or anything-

Ehe

Man I really went to town again, didn't I?? Well, I'm glad that you enjoy my headcanons :DDD Albedo just seems like such a sweet person??? Like endearing in a way that just is...him. If that makes sense.

Brain go brrrrrr

I'll admit that my favorite headcanons for Bedo are mundane and domestic ones though! Like these! Just the little moments where there's nothing really going on except for him and you and ahhhh yesyesyes

Okay that's all-

[emeren]

birthday boy - eren jaeger

shameless birthday fluff for the boy who deserves a happy ending and a happy birthday 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.1k 

content warnings: absolutely none, 100% fluff!

notes: i’m emerging from my request writing hole to post this lil one shot for my love’s birthday. i did not read over this so there may be errors or whatnot, but enjoy!

SUMMARY: reader shows eren what it means to have a good birthday.

eren had never been one for birthdays. 

he’d tried, he’d really tried to love them just as much as everyone else did. he could vividly remember all of the kids in his class bringing in donuts and ice cream and handing out little handmade invitations - invitations he never received. 

after two or three failed birthday parties thrown by carla - birthday parties that only armin and mikasa showed up to - eren had stopped trying. he insisted that he hated march 30th and that it was the worst day of the year. his mom always made a big deal out of it anyway, insisting on taking the three kids out for ice cream and a movie in celebration. 

eren would’ve never admitted it, as his pride was too strong, but he liked the small celebration his mom would throw. just him and his two best friends, building blanket forts and being allowed to watch one PG-13 movie for the special occasion. 

he remembered his tenth birthday being the last one that he even bothered acknowledging. that was the last birthday with his mom, the last birthday that didn’t go forgotten on grisha’s busy schedule. that was the last birthday that he went for ice cream and got to watch a PG-13 movie. 

as he got older, birthdays became less of a big deal to his peers. they weren’t large scale, festive events, but rather small group hangouts that involved getting drunk in a field. some sad, petty part of eren enjoyed watching everyone’s special day become exactly like his had always been: just another of 365. 

he didn’t remember telling you what day he was born. in fact, he was sure he hadn’t told you. it’d been a conversation topic he’d narrowly avoided in the past; lucky enough to have met you around april in order to skip over the awkward ‘oh, it’s my birthday’ chat. 

so he was confused. 

he was confused when he pulled his apartment door open, only to be met with your figure holding a carefully wrapped gift. hell, even eren didn’t realize that it was his birthday. he’d stood there in the doorway, gawking at you with a half-asleep look in his eyes. 

“what’s that for?” he’d asked incredulously, pointing at the gift. you laughed, the sound music to his ears as you slipped into his apartment. 

“happy birthday!” you squealed, setting it down and wrapping your arms around his slim figure. eren frowned for a moment, mind counting through the days of the calendar until they landed on march 30th. oh, i guess it is my birthday.

he hugged you back, eyes still warily focused on the gift. “who told you?” he’d questioned. 

you smiled up at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “i have my ways.” 

eren didn’t know what emotion it was that burned in his chest at your soft grin. he desperately wished for it to be annoyance, but it wasn’t, so he resorted to feigning it instead. 

“i’d rather we didn’t make a big deal about it,” he grumbled, slipping from your arms and walking towards his kitchen. he didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes or the way you mocked his voice, only turning around to see you approaching him with a bag he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“that’s alright, i was just going to make you some breakfast, if that’s okay?” eren normally would’ve protested any other special treatment on his birthday, but it wasn’t very unusual for you to cook him a meal. eren had a big stomach, and absolutely no skills in the kitchen. he resorted to shrugging, not wanting to show you the way your suggestion made his heart skip. 

and so he watched you. he watched you flit around the kitchen and make him his favorite breakfast (waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, extra side of bacon). your movements were so mesmerizing he’d nearly forgotten about this rotten day, the day that his younger self had declared the worst of the 365. 

“here, shithead. enjoy your meal,” you hummed playfully, sliding the plateful of food in his direction. eren flipped you off, too hungry to pick a fight as he dove into his meal. 

he tried to ignore the feeling of you staring as he scarfed down his waffle. he’d hoped you wouldn’t say anything else about his birthday. “do you wanna open your gift after we’re done eating?” you’d asked. 

eren paused his feast to look up at you, your eyes focused on your own plate as you waited for a response. he was apprehensive, but decided to take the bait nonetheless. “uh, sure.” 

eren could remember the best gift he’d ever gotten. it had been a handmade terrarium from armin and mikasa for his eighth birthday. they’d gone out in the woods behind their houses and rifled through the bushes and weeds to put together a jar filled with all sorts of creatures and plants. eren’s favorite had been the spider - whom he’d lovingly named peter - as he would catch flies and other small insects to feed to him. he’d been so excited about their cheaply made gift that nothing had ever come close to topping it (not that he ever got much in the ways of gifts, anyway).

as you sat him down on the couch, carefully placing an oblong box in his lap, he was unsure. he loved you, no doubt, but he didn’t know what on earth you could’ve gotten him. 

his previous confusion only grew when he opened the box to find a bundle of wildflowers. they were a mix of baby hues, soft and simple. he looked to you, brow raised in question. 

“flowers?” he’d asked, mind pondering all the possibilities. you laughed lightly in response, standing from your seat next to him. 

“c’mon,” you gestured for him, eyes scanning his bare chest. “go put a shirt on and come with me.” 

eren sighed, standing himself as he set the flowers on the couch. “listen. i love you, i really do. but i would just rather we don’t make a big deal out of today, alright?” 

he watched you roll your eyes, watched you fold your arms over your chest.

“i’m not making a big deal out of today,” you’d responded, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “just go put a shirt on. it’ll just be the two of us.” 

eren talked a lot of game regarding his self-proclaimed willpower, but he would never understand how easily he caved to you. thirty minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, eyes mindlessly gazing out the window with the bundle of flowers in his lap. 

you were playing his favorite music, humming along as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel. he’d just stared at you, admiring your beauty as you turned up a desolate road that he’d been too focused on you to recognize.

it wasn’t until the car stopped; surrounded by newly blooming flowers and freshly greening trees, did he piece together where he was.

“mom?” he’d breathed, eyes glancing out the window. you just smiled in response, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. eren looked down at the bundle of flowers in his lap, wildflowers, his mom’s favorite. 

in that moment he felt like crying. sure, he’d cried on his birthday before, but this was different. it was a cry of appreciation, one that burned in his chest as you impatiently pulled his door open. he was quick to blink the tears away, putting up a front as he got out himself. 

his mom’s cemetery was atop a hill, located away from the city amongst the trees and wildlife. he remembered picking it for her because of how freeing it felt - it was more of a place for remembrance that mourning. he knew that was what his mom would’ve wanted. 

eren showed his appreciation by wrapping your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as the two of you approached his mom’s headstone. 

“what made you think of this?” he’d asked quietly, setting the bundle of flowers right beneath her name carved within the granite stone. he remained kneeled in front of it; long fingers coming up to trace the words. he’d been surprised by your answer. 

“i know you hate your birthday,” you’d started, watching the moment in front of you. “and i know your mom was the only person that ever tried to make you enjoy it. i hope it wasn’t insensitive of me to bring you here? i just thought maybe you’d want to spend the day here with her.” 

and there it was again: that burning within his chest. he pulled his fingers back from the cold stone, relieved you couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. it was on the contrary. he’d never had someone think of him this way, think of what he truly wanted to do. he smiled as he stood to face you. 

“thank you.” he’d said sincerely, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head.

the two of you sat for hours, hands wrapped together as eren told stories about his mom and talked to her gravestone as if she were really there, too. he talked about his tenth birthday; how his mom had rented some barely scary movie, but how armin couldn’t sleep for weeks following their watch. he talked about the time mikasa had beaten up one of the popular kids for only excluding eren from his birthday party. before he knew it, he was wrapped up in stories upon stories. 

all too fast, the sun began to dip past the horizon. the two of you stood from the grass, pants slightly damp with mud but neither of you cared. eren leaned down, pressing his lips to the stone as a parting goodbye - something he’d started doing as a kid. 

as you drove away, eren felt content with how the day had gone. he watched the sunset from the window, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. he enjoyed the sweet moment, but couldn’t help the perverted thought that crossed his mind. he’d never had birthday sex before, and oh boy was he excited to try. 

the car stopped outside of his apartment, the two of you walking up to the door hand in hand. he grabbed his keys, about to unlock the handle when you stopped him. 

he loved when you looked at him like that. when your eyes were big and doe-like, filled with a mix of adoration and excitement. your hands carefully wrapped around his jaw, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a tender, warm kiss. 

he could feel his heart clench at the action, pulling away with a smile on his face. “what was that for?” 

“i just love you, ‘s’all.” you hummed in response, motioning for him to open the door. eren hated that you could make him blush, looking away with a playful roll of his eyes. 

he wasn’t expecting what waited for him behind the door. 

with the flick of the light switch, all of his friends popped up from around the apartment, yelling ‘surprise!’. his eyes widened in shock, a large banner that read off ‘happy birthday eren!’, but the words were all scrunched together at the end, the banner not large enough. 

“connie made that!” armin explained hurriedly, as if noticing the way eren’s eyes traced over the decoration. eren couldn’t help the burning in his chest as he looked at all of his closest friends. 

sasha, connie, jean, mikasa, armin, you. you, who had clearly planned this all. eren wasn’t ever very sappy, at least not since he was in high school. but the burning in his chest had become too much to bear, overwhelmed by all of the decorations and confetti, and thoughtfulness. 

he looked at you, tears in his eyes. he’d never had a big party before. he’d always wanted one, and here it was. “thank you.” 

“goddammit, this is what you get for taking him to the cemetery before his surprise party!” jean yelled, pointing at his friend. “i don’t think i’ve seen you cry since you were an annoying ass teenager!” 

“oh, shut the fuck up,” eren replied lightheartedly, embracing each of his friends. he wasn’t even embarrassed to cry. it’d been so long since he’d felt so loved. 

and so you all sat, eating ice cream and watching a horror movie. eren was in the middle, you curled up on his one side and armin on the other. as all of his friends enjoyed his birthday, squealing at the unnecessary gore, he couldn’t help but smile. 

maybe march 30th wasn’t the worst day, afterall.

<3 <3 <3 

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝐷𝑎𝑑

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Hongjoong had offered to look after your daughter since he knew you had an interview to go to. He didn't mind having her keep him company at the studio, he usually got very lonely that a tiny bundle of sunshine would definitely brighten up his day. Noticing she was probably bored, just as he was, he thought of something.

"Hey? Princess? Wanna play hide and seek?"

She didn't even respond, she immediately ran out the door to go hide somewhere in the company. Hongjoong giggled and began counting to 20 before scurrying off to go find her. It wasn't difficult for him to find her either, her pink bow was peeking out from the table she was hiding behind in. Hongjoong quietly crept up and peeked his head out.

"Found you!" He exclaimed, which had the little girl bursting into giggles.

"Yay daddy! You found me!"

Hongjoong's heart stopped for a moment before he ended up giggling himself.

"Yes princess. I did find you. Now go hide again so daddy can find you again."

Hongjoong watched as she ran off again, a shy smile on his face as he recalled the moment. He couldn't wait to tell you about it.

♡*:.｡.𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪.｡.:*♡

"Aww come on kiddo. Won't you eat your food?"

Seonghwa felt helpless as the little boy in front of him refused to eat his vegetables.

"I want ice cream." He pointed to the freezer, knowing fully well you and Seonghwa had bought ice cream when you went grocery shopping.

"And you'll get to eat some, but first, you must finish this ok?"

The little boy huffed slightly. He picked up his fork but overall just toyed around with the food, not even taking a bite or even putting it close to his mouth. Seonghwa pouted, feeling dejected and hurt.

"Aww please try some at least. I tried really hard to make it delicious for you." He begged.

You honestly felt sorry for Seonghwa, he had really been trying so hard these days to bond with your son. The boy looked at him when he said that.

"You cooked this?" To which Seonghwa nodded.

The little boy inhaled and then surprised him by saying:

"Ok. I'll try some of daddy's food."

You dropped your own fork when he said that and Seonghwa stared at him in disbelief and then at you. You were both in shock, however the little boy just began eating as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say. Seonghwa was feeling so many things at once and immediately asked.

"Could you please just....say that one more time?"

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

"Sweetie. Get down from there. You might break something."

You felt so embarrassed, having your daughter run around the dressing room and climb on top of things with the members watching you. Yunho however didn't mind, he thought it was cute how active and playful she was.

"Y/N it's ok. We really don't mind." He assured you.

Turning his attention back to the tiny girl, he picked her up and sat her on top of one of the dressers in the room.

"Look at you! You're so tall now!" He chuckled.

The little girl smiled as she peered at Yunho's head.

"I can finally see the top of daddy's head." She blurted out.

Everyone in the room got quiet. Some of the boys were looking shocked while others were trying hard to not burst out in squeals. You felt your face grow red, your hands immediately covering your face.

Yunho began chuckling nervously and covered his face as well.

"Yes babygirl. You're now as tall as daddy."

He couldn't help himself as he picked her up and spun her around, completely unbothered that she thinks of him as her dad. He truly loves it.

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Yeosang came into your house to find both you and your son restless.

"Everything ok? Am I interrupting?" Yeosang always made sure never to overstep boundaries and not get in the way of you parenting your son.

"No you're not. We're just having a tiny issue." You sighed.

"I wanna go on the school's field trip." The toddler said.

"I know you do honey, but I'm sorry. I have work that day and you can't go by yourself." You tried explaining for the 6th time in a row.

The little boy huffed, arms crossed over his chest. He then looked over at Yeosang and his eyes lit up.

"Well can daddy take me instead?"

You snapped your head in horror at Yeosang, watching as his eyes grew wide, his complexion somewhat turning pale. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, thinking he was uncomfortable by what the boy said.

"Honey, I don't think Yeosang-"

"I'll take him."

Now it was your turn to be stunned as Yeosang firmly stated:

"I'll go with you on the school trip. Let's have a little bonding time together."

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷.｡.:*♡

From the moment he found out you had a daughter, San was super eager to meet her, be a part of her life. He simply adored kids and loved your daughter as if she was his own.

He did, in fact, think of her as his own kid and wanted her to think of him as her dad hopefully one day in the future. He'd often joke with her and ask her to call him dad, but she'd always just look at him weird.

"Look! I got you this while I was away on tour."

San excitedly handed the box to you girl in front of him. She eyed it curiously before opening it, revealing a large plush toy that made her scream in happiness.

"I knew you'd love it! I saw it and thought of you." He was just as excited as she was.

"It's so cute!" She hugged it.

"Darling. Manners. What do you say?" You reminded her.

The girl bit her thumb as she walked up to San.

"Thank you daddy." She followed it by a kiss to his cheek.

San could hardly believe it. She actually said it and he was over the moon.

"Oh my God! You actually called me dad!"

He beamed with joy as he pulled her into his lap and peppered her tiny head with kisses.

♡*:.｡.𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲.｡.:*♡

When you called Mingi, asking him if he could do you a favor and pick your son up from school, he immediately got up and headed out. He enjoyed spending time with him and wanted to be as helpful as he could be since he knew raising a kid as a single parent was no easy task.

He waited outside the school gates, hoping to spot him there soon. When he saw him come out, he began waving at him, huge grin on his face, not caring if he looked like a total idiot. When your son saw him, he began jumping up and down, waving back and began racing towards him.

"Dad!" He shouted.

Mingi paused when he heard him say that. He looked around, thinking perhaps the kid's father actually showed up or something. But then he felt a tiny body attach itself to his. He looked down to find your son staring at him so purely as he hugged his legs. That's when Mingi realized he was referring to him.

"Did...did you just call me?" Mingi pointed at himself rather incredulous.

When the boy nodded, Mingi burst out into a smile. He picked up the boy and ruffled his hair. It was definitely a surprise, but he wasn't mad. It was a very touching moment for him and he felt like he was truly making an impact in the little boy's life, something he was hoping to achieve.

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

You figured that after finding out you had a daughter Wooyoung would give up trying to pursue you, but you were wrong. Although he was awkward at first, he soon got the hang of helping you out with her. He didn't mind changing diapers or getting up to attend to her when she awoke at night.

Right now he was hell bent on trying to get her to talk.

"Google says she should have been babbling her first words 2 months ago. We got work to do."

So there he was, repeating the word 'mommy' over and over again on various tones and speeds, hoping the girl would follow along.

"Look here. Moooommmyy." He drawled the word out as he pointed at you.

The little girl made several attempts, uttering a few incoherent noises. Then finally she said her first word:

"Dada." She innocently looked at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was shook to the core and so were you. He just looked at her for a few seconds then turned to you.

"She obviously loves me better than you." He teased.

He then turned back to her and smiled. "Can you do me a favor and say 'DaDa' again?"

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

You were all settled in the living room watching a movie, Jongho and you cuddled up in the couch while your son opted for laying on the floor bundled up in his blankets. He was barely paying attention to the movie, instead playing around with some of the toys scattered around him.

Feeling hungry, he went to the kitchen and took out an apple from the fridge. He then walked up next to Jongho and tugged on his sleeve.

"Dad?" His tiny voice called out.

Jongho immediately looked at him.

"Yes buddy? What is it?"

The boy held the apple out to him. Jongho chuckled as he realized what he was asking for.

"All right don't worry. Daddy's got this."

He effortlessly split the apple open for the boy, who thanked him and then went back to his tiny fort. Jongho turned to you, not understanding why you had that look on your face.

"You do realize he called you 'dad' and you responded like nothing?" You pointed it out.

Jongho was surprised when he realized you were right. He only ended up giggling.

"It did come out so naturally right?" He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed your cheek.

"Maybe it's meant to be this way."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[xyixxesx]

As The World Caves In

the one where: you spend your final night alive with him. 

word count: 800

.

.

Megumi Fushiguro

intimate. 

there’s nothing outside that he’s interested in. you spend the rest of time in his loving embrace and there isn’t any place else either of you would rather be. he tells you once, twice, then over and over how you’re still the most beautiful woman that he has ever seen. that no matter what happens next or wherever the two of you may end up, you have his heart. forever. since the day that he very first laid eyes on you. he holds your hands, holds you close, and his kisses are slow and sweet. they hold so much emotion and meaning, you can hardly fathom the intimacy of it all. in your final hours, megumi makes you feel his boundless love for you and does his absolute best to help you truly understand the depths of the admiration and sincere affection that he has for you. he wishes things could be different, wishes he had more time, but to have lived once and to have been loved by you was far better than to have gone on to live a million years without knowing you. 

Yuji Itadori

wholesome.

You spend a good amount of the day in a fort of blankets, talking aimlessly about everything and nothing at all. you get a little restless, so the two of you move things over to the couch, but not before the two of you make the biggest ice cream sundae that the entire world had ever seen. you absolutely did eat every bite. there’s a rom-com on the tv but neither of you are watching. you prop yourselves up on the sofa and talk for hours on end. every bit of tea, every random fact and deep, excited tangents about the things that the two of you were most passionate about, all of it was laid out on the table, one last time. you neglect the forbidden topic until the very last minute. he touches his hand to your cheek and he smiles. he’s happy with you, more than words could ever describe, but now he’s struggling to keep his heartache in check. he tells you once more how he adores you and how you’ll always be his girl, his smile; his very best friend. always. 

Gojo Satoru

enchanting. 

true to his reputation, almost til the very end. almost. he didn’t want to discuss it before and he didn’t want to talk about it now. he didn’t see the point. what good would it do you right now that he adored you? that he thought of you every minute of every one of his days? would you be happy in knowing that he had fallen in love with you or would you hurt because there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it at this point? he elected to keep his thoughts to himself, but you spent the day together. he loved you, but he wouldn’t say it. not without a push. when it got late, you were reduced to tears. satoru was a book pressed closed when it came to romance, but you weren’t foolish or blind. or maybe you were both and your hopeless love for him made you delusional. either way, you pleaded with him and you cried. you told him if there was anything there, if he ever felt a single thing for you in that way, he should tell you; it would be callous not to. you fully expect crushed hopes but he takes one of your hands in both of his instead. he presses it on his chest flat and tells you that the organ that lies beneath beats for you. he tries to skip the details, he doesn’t want to be cruel, and while his confession is late, it is also true, and there was nothing else in the whole world that you wanted to hear more on your final night alive. 

Ryomen Sukuna

turbulent. 

he never imagined that when he burned the world to the ground that there would be a pretty little thing standing beside him. forget letting someone live, he couldn’t picture himself loving someone period, never mind loving them enough to let them escape death at his hands and wander the world with him. but now, he couldn’t imagine doing any of it without you. you with your bright eyes and precious innocence that was his for the taking. you would follow him anywhere and you would sooner betray your own flesh and blood before you betrayed him, not that it particularly mattered anymore, but the point still remained. you were loyal to him, certainly to a fault, and you loved him far more than you should have. you were perfect. a perfect pet that he adored. if you kept playing your cards right, he just might have to keep you by his side forever. 

[lunar-wandering]

“this house is a frickin’ nightmare”

so i. decided to write something for the ‘Sitcom’ AU, which is basically just the concept that post-canon, everyone lives in the same house.... its Fun.

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on Ao3

-

"Monkey King, get down from the fridge."

"No."

This exchange is what drew MK's attention to the fact that something was happening in the kitchen.

In MK's opinion, it was far too early for something to be happening in the kitchen.

"Wukong, I swear, if you don't get down from there-"

"What- you gonna stab me? Pigsy, you know full well that method is ineffective."

"What is going on?" MK asked, entering the kitchen and, well, seeing exactly what he had expected; Wukong crouched on top of the fridge, staring down at Pigsy, who was glaring up at him.

Still though. Just because he'd expected to see it didn't explain why it was happening.

"Oh hey, kid." Wukong said, taking notice of him. "Everything's fine, you can go back to your room, breakfast will be ready soon."

"It would be done already if you hadn't burned it." Pigsy said, gesturing to the charred remains of what supposedly had been breakfast. "Seriously, can't you follow simple instructions?? Now we've gotta start all over."

"It's not my fault I'm a visual learner." Wukong said, his tail swinging back and forth.

"It was three steps-"

"What's going on?"

MK barely kept himself from startling at the new voice behind him, turning around to see a very tired looking Red Son.

"Breakfast burned." MK said, catching Red Son up on the situation. Red Son hummed in contemplation, walking into the kitchen, picking up a piece of the unrecognizable charred food, and, ignoring the other's growing horror, he ate it.

"...Tastes fine to me." He said, going so far as to grab and nibble on another piece as he turned and left, presumably heading back to his room. The remaining three watched him go in shocked silence.

"....This house is a frickin' nightmare." Wukong deadpanned. Pigsy nodded in agreement.

"Aptly put. Now get off of the fridge."

"No."

MK decided to go back to bed.

-

It was commonly known, within the household, that somehow, Tang and Wukong continuously managed to get out of doing their fair share of the chores. No one was quite sure how they did it, as the two of them kept coming up with new methods every day.

Today's method was..... interesting, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, they had managed to remove their names from the Chore Roulette Wheel, without leaving any trace that their names had ever even been there. Which was, in fact, rather impressive, considering that the roulette wheel was literally a giant wooden roulette wheel, built by Sandy, and there were no empty spaces were their names used to be, they were just. Gone.

To be honest, MK would've never noticed if Mei hadn't pointed it out.

Now, there was a house-wide search for the two chore-shirkers.

"Found 'em yet?" MK yelled down the stairs into the basement. A few seconds passed, then a unanimous call of "No!" came. MK sighed. If the Spider-gang couldn't find Tang and Wukong down there, then they probably weren't there. (.....Probably. Wukong did have a lot of tricks up his sleeves, and MK didn't put it pass his mentor to use them for something like this.)

That checked off the majority of the house.... which only left-

An enraged scream (courtesy of Mei) from upstairs confirmed what MK had concluded.

They were on the roof.

MK rushed to the stairs, running up them-

Only to pause as he heard a yelp, and a flash of gold fell past the window, followed by a loud thud. MK leaned on the windowsill to look outside, just in time to see Tang fall past it. Wukong, a few branches and grass in his fur from his rough landing, summoned his cloud to catch Tang, before zooming away.

As MK would later find out, in the haste to escape Mei's wrath, Tang had actually pushed Wukong off the roof. Wukong, in return, had unceremoniously dropped Tang on the ground the first chance he got.

Both of their names were back on the roulette wheel by the next morning.

....They still managed to get out of doing their chores though.

-

"Oh, hey Macaque." MK mumbled, tiredly rubbing his eyes, and Macaque, mid-way through stealing a snack out of the fridge, froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh.....hey, bud." He said, slowly closing the fridge door, glancing at MK, who was obviously very tired, then looking at the clock on the wall.

2:43 AM. Okay, he could work with this.

"What are you doing up so late?" Macaque asked, leaning casually against the fridge in an attempt to hide his nervousness. If MK had been more awake, he would've noticed and called him out on it, but as it was....

"Just woke up.... wanted to get a snack." MK said, and Macaque quickly opened a nearby cupboard.

"Here, have this." He said, putting a cookie in MK's hands, before grabbing him by the shoulders, turning him around, and gently shoving him back towards his room. "Now go back to bed."

"G'night, Macaque." MK said, nibbling on his cookie.

"Goodnight, MK." Macaque sighed, waiting until he heard MK's bedroom door click closed again before melting back into the shadows.

The next morning, MK thought he had dreamt the whole thing. After all, Macaque had vehemently denied the invitation to live in the house with everyone else, surely if he had changed his mind and started to live with them, someone would've noticed.

....Right?

-

"Monkey King?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you always sleep on the roof?" Red Son asked, "I mean, you do have a room after all, why don't you use it?"

"I just like watching the stars." Wukong said, reclining on his cloud. Suddenly, Mei and MK also appeared beside Red Son, with their arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

"You told me that beds were uncomfortable." Mei said.

"And you told me that you liked the breeze." MK added. Wukong's tail bristled a little, but he still didn't look over at them.

"Well, I mean, all of those are true." Wukong said, "Figured I would just... switch my answers up from time to time, keep things entertaining you know?"

"That doesn't explain why you slept out there in the pouring rain." Mei said, "In fact, the only time we've seen you sleep inside is when we have blanket fort night."

"...The rain was nice?" Wukong said, sounding uncertain. The trio narrowed their eyes.

"Is there something wrong with your room?" Red Son asked, and Wukong flinched.

"No." He said, finally sitting up and looking at them. "Really, my room's perfectly fine, I don't know where you're getting the idea that something's wrong-"

"You're doing that nervous smile again." MK said, and Wukong slammed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide what the trio had already seen.

There was a moment of silence, and in that moment, each member of the traffic light trio came to a shared conclusion.

No matter the cost, they would get into Wukong's room.

Almost as though they had actually planned it, the trio took off towards the staircase, ignoring Wukong's yells for them to stop. Hurriedly, Wukong summoned two clones, then rushed after the trio.

Red on got caught on the stairs, the clone grabbing hold of the edge of his coat and dragging him down. It wouldn't be able to hold him for long of course, his fire could quickly burn the clone away, but it would still manage to slow him down.

Mei was captured in the hallway, the clone pushing off the wall to tackle her, accidentally knocking her right into Yin and Jin's room, pining her to the ground as the twins yelped in shock.

...Which just left MK.

Having trained with the Monkey King, MK found himself easily dodging Wukong's attempts to catch him. Slightly out of breath, he skidded to a stop in front of Wukong's door, turned the knob, and opened it.

"I don't really see what the problem is, the room looks fine to me-" MK said, stepping into the room.

"Kid, wait-" Wukong started to say, but it was too late.

MK tripped, tumbling into the room, dispelling the illusion Wukong had carefully crafted and placed over it.

Wukong's room was a mess, to put things lightly. There was stuff everywhere- books, clothes, antiques, food, you named it, it was probably there. It was to the point where there was no place to sleep, the bed being covered in stuff. Which, well, that explained the whole 'sleeping on the roof' thing, but still.

Wukong nervously shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. Red Son and Mei, who had succeeded in freeing themselves, as well as Yin and Jin, who had gotten curious from all the commotion, stared over Wukong's shoulders, taking in the state of the room.

MK sat there for a moment, looking at the mess (and sure, MK's room was messy too, but this-), before slowly turning around to look at his mentor, a serious expression on his face.

"Wukong." MK said, and Wukong stiffened, his nervous smile growing wider at the sound of MK saying his name instead of his title.

"...Yeah?" Wukong said, chuckling nervously as MK's look darkened.

"...I'm getting Sandy."

"Wait, no no no-"

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up Wukong's room, sorting through the piles upon piles of stuff.

Wukong, in a bout of spite, still slept on the roof anyways.

-

Yin and Jin stared in shock at the scene in front of them.

Everyone in the house knew that Wukong and Tang adamantly avoided doing their share of the chores. (The roof-pushing incident was still fresh in everyone's minds, after all).

So that's why seeing Wukong doing the laundry was very out of place.

"...What are you two staring at?" Wukong asked, snapping the twins out of their shocked reverie.

"It's just....weird to see you doing the laundry, that's all." Yin said, and that-

Well, surprisingly enough, that made Wukong actually pause.

"It is?" He asked, slowly setting the laundry basket down on the ground, subtly nudging it under a nearby table so that it was now out of view.

"Well, I mean, with how you and Mr. Tang utilize every method possible to avoid doing the chores, we never thought we'd actually see you doing one." Jin said.

"...I see." Wukong said, quietly. "Well, in that case. You two saw nothing."

"Wha-"

Not giving them a chance to respond, Wukong flashed a peace sign, then vanished, leaving the twins to sputter in disbelief.

(Later, Macaque returned to the laundry room to pick up the clothes he'd left behind.)

-

Syntax paused as he stared at the sight before him.

"...What is this?" He ased, drawing the attention of the occupants in the living room.

"A braid train!" MK replied, and honestly, that's what it was. MK sat on the floor, braiding Bai He's hair, Bai He braiding Red Son's, who was braiding Mei's hair. Mei pulled one hand out of Spider Queen's hair to give Syntax a little wave before returning to braiding the queen's hair. Spider Queen gently weaved Huntsman's hair into a braid that looked above professional level. Huntsman was twisted at an odd angle in order to put some braids in Sandy's beard. And Sandy carefully created some tiny braids in Wukong's fur."

"I....see." Syntax said, holding up his phone and taking a quick picture before any of the braid train participants could notice.

"Do you wanna join?" MK asked, "You can either braid my hair or get yours braided by Monkey King. Your choice."

Syntax took a moment to think about it.

He ended up braiding MK's hair.

-

There was someone in the shower.

Now, usually, this wouldn't be such a mind-boggling thing, but-

All of the house's occupants stared at the bathroom door in trepidation.

"You sure Wukong didn't just accidentally leave the shower on again?" Princess Iron Fan asked, prompting some indignant sputtering from Wukong, who was sitting on Demon Bull King's shoulder. MK shook his head in the negative.

"No, I'm sure I heard someone moving in there." He said, crossing his arms.

"Why don't you or Monkey King just use your true sight and get this whole mystery over with?" Jin asked.

"Yeah, we've already been waiting for like, 20 minutes." Yin said.

"They're in the shower." MK said, "I'm not just gonna invade their privacy like that, regardless of who they are."

The shower turned off, and everyone turned to stare at the door again, in silence. There was some rustling around, and then the door opened.

Macaque. It was Macaque. Who, upon realizing that literally the entire household was standing in front of him, froze.

And then immediately tried to turn and run.

"Oh no you don't." Wukong said, jumping off of Demon Bull King's shoulder, and outright tackling the other monkey to the ground. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I live here?" Macaque said, sitting up and shoving Wukong off of him.

"You turned down the invitation to come and live with us though...." Wukong said, slowly standing back up. ".....How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Everyone went into various states of shock.

"How could we not have noticed you?" MK asked.

"You- you did notice me though." Macaque said, "Like, we had a whole conversation in the kitchen at around 3 AM."

"You think I remember what happens at 3 am?!" MK said, holding his head in his hands, and Red Son comfortingly patted him on the back.

"What happens at 3 AM stays at 3 AM." Red Son said, sounding like he was saying some ancient wisdom despite the actual sentence being utter nonsense. Yin and Jin snapped their fingers as a look of realization appeared on their faces. 

"That's why we saw Wukong doing the laundry the other day." Yin said, "It was Macaque in disguise!"

"....Yeah, I figured you'd notice if I didn't do some chores, just to clean up after myself." Macaque sighed, and Pigsy turned to glare at Wukong and Tang.

"See? Even the ex-villain does more chores than you two." He said, and Wukong and Tang purposefully looked away, whistling innocently.

"Wait." Mei said, "If you've been here for two weeks, and we haven't seen you use any of the bedrooms... then where have you been sleeping?"

As it turned out, Macaque had been spending his nights in the storage closet, curled up in the darkest corner of the room with nothing other than a blanket and a small pillow. The others, of course, deemed this as unacceptable, and pretty much near shoved him into one of the leftover bed rooms.

...Which he didn't even end up using that night, as it ended up being a night where everyone ended up falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows strewn about everywhere.

The next morning, Macaque wasn't there when the others woke up, and there was a brief moment of panic over the monkey's whereabouts-

And then said monkey walked back into the room, using the shadows to help him carry some trays with breakfast on it.

He paused when he registered that everyone was staring at him.

"....What?" He asked, "I woke up first, that means I had breakfast duty, right?"

"I mean.....yeah." MK said, graciously accepting his plate of food. "But, to be honest. I kinda expected you to burn it like Monkey King did."

"Hey, I did that on purpose. For Red Son." Wukong said, "Cause, y'know. He likes charred food. Apparently."

"You did not do that on purpose and we all know it." Pigsy said, "You were just as unaware of Red Son's dietary habits as the rest of us."

"...I literally just woke up and I'm kinda feeling attacked." Red Son mumbled, sitting up. "Should I feel like I'm being attacked?"

"No, you're fine, we're just calling out Wukong again." Spider Queen whispered to him, and Red Son hummed before rolling back over, clearly intending on getting a few more minutes of rest despite the argument starting to occur in the room. Macaque, for his part, remained standing frozen, with MK standing beside him, nibbling at the food on his plate.

"....Should I be concerned about this?" Macaque asked, staring at the fight taking place. MK shrugged.

"Nah." He said, "This is just the same shit as always."

[l-anna-art]

Hide And Seek - Anima!AU

A new illustration with an extract, this time! There is the english version first, and I added the french one too :)

"Not a sound," Yagi whispered.

The blond held Izuku against the wall with a strong and firm grip despite his sickly appearance. Izuku stared at him with a frown, the incomprehension clearly visible on his face. Yagi didn't give him a look. He wasn't looking at anything specific, in fact. His eyes were just wide open, frozen, pupils dilated and his body was tense.

Attentive.

Clac.

Izuku's eyes widened. If the night had not been so silent and empty of life, the boy would never have heard the clicking of claws scraping the ground. A metallic, steady, quiet sound.

Clac.

It was much heavier than Renard's flowing step. It was also farther away, out of sight at the moment when Yagi had grabbed Izuku by the shirt to hide behind one of the low walls along the street.

Clac.

Izuku had not even noticed the presence. And as the tinkling became closer and closer, clearer and sharper, he could feel the excess energy swarming under his skin, becoming unstable and painful as his anxiety grew. He regretted that Renard had disappeared in the night, because there, right away, he terribly missed the comforting presence of his automaton. Nor did watch Yagi stand as still as a statue help to calm his mind, and he squirmed under its grip. The blond turned silently towards him, a finger on his lips as he stuck himself a little closer to the wall and brought Izuku closer to his chest.

There were still steps, and a grunt resounded behind the low wall decorated with bushes. The thing finally overtook them, revealing the amalgam of flesh and metal that formed its body. It was as tall as a horse, but much more massive, and the dark body glowed in the glow of the street lamps. The paws, made of steel and other materials that Izuku did not recognize, were probably as wide as the boy's silhouette, and he had no doubt that one blow would be enough to shred him.

"It's hunting us," one of the voices said. "This one has no sense of smell, but it has keen hearing. Silence."

Izuku wanted to ask what the hell was that thing, but just the idea of opening his mouth and being noticed twisted his insides in a painful way. He suddenly missed his bed. His bed and the warm, soft blankets. And hot chocolates too, with marshmallows and cream in excess.

He wasn't sure he'd get the chance to drink one again.

The monster raised its head and looked around, probing its surroundings. What must have been its ears stood straight and high on its head, and it stood there, motionless and silent, its iron tail flapping the air.

Deep down, in a visceral way, Izuku knew it. If that thing turned around, it would find them.

But there was little they could do, each sound threatening to reveal their presence. So they stood there, paralyzed like mice at the sight of a cat. Yagi looked straight ahead, breathing calmly despite the clamminess of his hands, and looked for something in one of his pockets. Izuku, on the other hand, had his hands glued to his mouth, reducing the sound of his breathing as much as possible as he closed his eyes.

A new growl - a mixture of low rumblings, clattering, and rales - emanated from the monster before it fatally began to rotate in their direction. Izuku felt tears streaming from the corner of his eyes as the fright lacerated his stomach, making him want to vomit.

They were dead. Izuku had always had bad luck and that wouldn't change tonight. Yagi, too weak to fight, would end up in pieces by something straight from hell, and Izuku would end up just as shredded in the corner. He pitied the poor passers-by who would discover their corpses in the early morning. If there was anything left of them.

There were still footsteps, rattling and scraping, closer and closer still, when suddenly the echo of a crate falling to the ground resounded in the night and startled him. The beast's head turned around, its neck twisted in a position that was anything but natural, and stared into the darkness in search of the source of the noise.

A moment passed without anything happening and then the duo, completely alert and motionless, watched the rest of the creature move to follow the alignment of its head that fixed one of the alleys.

A white lightning bolt leapted out of the shadows, three tails whipping the air as Renard faced the monster. The metal sparkled under the artificial light, and the gold bindings that covered its body captured the light and reflected it back. Izuku would have wanted to scream, panic and anxiety roaring in his veins. Renard was so small in comparison, tiny and frail in front of the creature.

All it would take is one bad move.

Yagi had to restrain the boy and put one hand over his mouth so he wouldn't ruin everything.

The creature was staring at Renard, motionless, one of its legs frozen above the ground. The body creaked and rattled as it bent forward. For a moment, the thing was standing about fifteen meters from the automaton. The next, it was on Renard and trying to push it to the ground with its claws and fangs out.

However, the automaton, although much smaller than the monster, remained agile and fast. It managed to free itself in a fluid movement, rolling on the ground and getting back on its feet. Then, before the dark creature moved again, the automaton hurried off into one of the adjacent alleys, the one opposite where the duo was.

The thing didn't waste a second and followed it, disappearing into the night as rumblings and screams echoed through the city.

Both remained motionless for a while, before Yagi finally decided to get up, looking around for anything abnormal. Izuku was still curled up on the floor, nervously playing with his shirt while his mind wandered about what was waiting for his automaton.

Renard was fast and hard to catch. It was also much smaller and could sneak everywhere, it would find a place inaccessible to the monster, right? It could always run and lose it somewhere, but could it find his way back? Izuku didn't know the city well, and he doubted that his automaton would do better. My God, what if it couldn't find it before leaving ? What if Renard got stuck here ? Yagi could understand and maybe delay the departure, but what if they couldn't find Renard ? They couldn't leave it here! Nor could he ask for information or help from anyone, they were wanted. And in broad daylight, his automaton would not really be the most discreet thing in these neighborhoods. Oh my God, what if the monster catches it anyway? What if it's not fast enough?

"Midoriya, you're rambling."

The boy blinked, suddenly out of his thoughts. Yagi had crouched down in front of him and gently shook his shoulder.

"Your fox is an intelligent beast. I'm sure it will find us," he said.

The blond offered him a smile.

This time, Izuku wasn't sure it was true.

"We shouldn't stay here," Yagi continued, looking again at the alley where the monster had disappeared. "These things never move alone."

"What exactly was that?" asked the greenette, his face still pale as he released a shiver.

The man stared at him with a sorry expression, before tapping his shoulder and helping him up.

"One of your father's experiments."

.

FRENCH VERSION  ===============================

.

"Plus un bruit," murmura Yagi.

Le blond maintenait Izuku contre le mur, la poigne forte et ferme malgré son apparence maladive. Izuku le fixa avec un froncement de sourcil, l'incompréhension clairement visible sur son visage. Yagi ne lui accorda pas un regard. Il ne regardait rien de précis, en fait. Les yeux grands ouvert, figés, les pupilles dilatées et le corps tendu.

Attentif.

Clac.

Les yeux d'Izuku s'écarquillèrent. Si la nuit n'avais pas été si silencieuse et vide de vie, le garçon n'aurait jamais entendu le cliquetis des griffes raclant le sol. Un son métallique, régulier et tranquille.

Clac.

Il était bien plus pesant que le pas fluide de Renard. Il était aussi plus lointain, hors de vue au moment où Yagi avait saisit Izuku par la chemise pour se cacher derrière l'un des murets qui longeaient la rue.

Clac.

Izuku n'avait même pas remarqué la présence. Et alors que les tintements se faisaient de plus en plus proches, de plus en plus clairs et nets, il pouvait sentir le surplus d'énergie grouiller sous sa peau, devenant instable et douloureux à mesure que son anxiété grandissait. Il regrettait que Renard ait disparu dans la nuit, car là, tout de suite, la présence réconfortante de son automate lui manquait terriblement. Regarder Yagi se tenir aussi immobile qu'une statue n'aidait pas non plus à apaiser son esprit, et il se tortilla sous sa prise. Le blond se retourna en silence vers lui, un doigt sur ses lèvres alors qu'il se collait un peu plus contre le mur et rapprochait Izuku de sa poitrine.

Il y eu encore des pas, et un grognement résonna derrière le muret orné de buissons. La chose les dépassa enfin, dévoilant l'amalgame de chair et de métal que formait son corps. Le monstre était aussi grand qu'un cheval, mais bien plus massif, et le corps sombre luisait à la lueur des réverbères. Les pattes, faite d'acier et d'autres matériaux qu'Izuku ne reconnut pas, était probablement aussi large que la silhouette du garçon, et il ne douta pas une seconde qu'un coup suffise pour le déchiqueter.

"Il nous traque," lui intima une des voix. "Celui-ci n'a pas d'odorat, mais son ouïe est fine. Silence."

Izuku voulait demander ce que diable était ce truc à l'ouïe fine, mais rien que l'idée d'ouvrir la bouche et de se faire remarquer lui tordait les entrailles d'une manière douloureuse. Son lit lui manquait tout d'un coup. Son lit et les couvertures chaudes et douces. Et les tasses de chocolats chaud, aussi, avec des guimauves et de la crème à outrance.

Il n'était pas sûr d'avoir à nouveau la chance d'en boire un.

Le monstre releva la tête et observa les alentours, sondant son environnement. Les choses qui devait lui servir d'oreilles se tenaient droites et hautes sur sa tête, et il resta là, immobile et silencieux, la queue de fer battant l'air.

Au fond de lui, d'une manière viscérale, Izuku le savait. Si cette chose se retournait, elle les trouverait.

Mais ils ne pouvaient pas faire grand chose, chaque son menaçant de dévoiler leur présence. Alors, ils restèrent là, paralysés comme des souris à la vue d'un chat. Yagi regardait droit devant lui, la respiration calme malgré la moiteur de ses mains, et chercha quelque chose dans une de ses poches. Izuku, lui, avait les mains collées contre sa bouche, atténuant au mieux le bruit de sa respiration alors qu'il fermait les yeux.

Un nouveau grognement - un mélange de grondements graves, de cliquetis et de râles - émana du monstre avant qu'il ne commence fatalement à pivoter dans leur direction. Izuku sentit des larmes perler au coin de ses yeux alors que l'effroi lui lacérait l'estomac, lui donnant envie de vomir.

Ils étaient finis. Izuku avait toujours eu la poisse et ça ne changerait pas cette nuit. Yagi, trop faible pour se battre, allait finir en morceaux par un truc sorti tout droit des enfers, et Izuku finirait tout aussi déchiqueté dans le coin de la rue. Il plaignait les pauvres passants qui découvriraient leurs cadavres au petit matin. S'il en restait quoi que ce soit.

Il y eu encore des pas, des cliquetis et raclements, plus proches et plus proches encore, lorsque soudain, l'écho d'une caisse tombant au sol résonna dans la nuit et le fit sursauter. La tête de la bête fit volte-face, le cou tordu dans une position tout sauf naturelle et fixa les ténèbres à la recherche de l'origine du bruit.

Un moment s’écoula sans que rien ne se passe puis, le duo, complètement alerte et immobile, observa le reste de la créature bouger pour suivre l'alignement de sa tête qui fixait l'une des ruelles.

Un éclair blanc bondit hors des ombres, trois queues fouettant l'air alors que Renard faisait face au monstre. Le métal étincelait sous la lumière artificielle, et les reliures en or qui couvraient son corps captaient la lumière et la renvoyaient. Izuku aurait voulu hurler, la panique et l'inquiétude rugissant dans ses veines. Renard était si petit en comparaison, minuscule et frêle devant la créature.

Il suffirait d'un mauvais coup.

Yagi dut le retenir et lui plaquer une main sur la bouche pour ne pas qu'il ruine tout.

La créature toisait Renard, immobile, une des pattes gelées au-dessus du sol. Le corps grinça et cliqueta alors qu'il se penchait en avant. Un instant, la chose se tenait à une quinzaine de mètres de l'automate. Le suivant, il était sur Renard et tentait de le plaquer au sol, griffes et crocs sortis.

Cependant, l'automate, bien que beaucoup plus petit que le monstre, restait agile et rapide. Il parvint à se dégager dans un mouvement fluide, roulant sur le sol et se remettant sur ses pattes. Puis, avant que la créature sombre ne bouge à nouveau, l'automate détala dans une des ruelles adjacentes, celle à l'opposée d'où se trouvait le duo.

La chose ne perdit pas une seconde et s'élança à sa suite, disparaissant dans la nuit alors que des grondements et des cris se répercutait dans la ville.

Les deux restèrent immobiles pendant un moment, avant que Yagi ne se décide enfin à se relever, observant les alentours à la recherche de quoi que ce soit d'anormal. Izuku était toujours recroquevillé par terre, jouant nerveusement avec sa chemise alors que son esprit divaguait sur ce qui attendait son automate.

Renard était rapide et dur à attraper. Il était aussi bien plus petit et pouvait se faufiler partout, il trouverait bien un endroit inaccessible au monstre, pas vrai ? Il pouvait toujours courir et le semer quelque part, mais est-ce qu'il pourrait retrouver son chemin ? Izuku ne connaissait pas bien la ville, et il doutait que son automate se débrouille mieux. Mon dieu, et s'il ne le trouvait pas avant le départ ? Et si Renard restait coincé ici ? Yagi pourrait comprendre et peut-être retarder le départ, mais s'ils ne trouvaient pas Renard ? Ils ne pouvaient pas le laisser là ! Et il ne pouvait pas non plus demander des infos ou de l'aide à qui que ce soit, ils étaient recherchés. Et en plein jour, son automate ne serait pas vraiment la chose la plus discrète dans ces quartiers. Ho mon dieu, et si le monstre l'attrape quand même ? Et s'il n'est pas assez rapide ?

"Midoriya, tu divagues."

Le garçon cligna des yeux, soudainement tiré de ses pensées. Yagi s'était accroupis devant lui et lui secouait doucement l'épaule.

"Ton renard est une bête intelligente. Je suis sûr qu'il nous retrouvera," il dit.

Le blond lui offrit un sourire.

Cette fois-ci, Izuku n'était pas sûr qu'il soit vrai.

"Nous ne devrions pas rester ici," continua Yagi en observant à nouveau la ruelle où avait disparu le monstre. "Ces choses ne se baladent jamais seules."

"Qu'est-ce que c'était, au juste ?" demanda l'adolescent, le visage encore livide alors qu'il relâchait un frisson.

L'homme le dévisagea avec une expression désolée, avant de lui tapoter l'épaule et de l'aider à se relever.

"L'une des expérimentations de ton père."