#not even the woods are loud in winter and you can hear your own breath

[darkwood-sleddog]

“It’s almost warm weather!” Summer enjoyers tell me at work when we get the slightest mild day, as if I will also enjoy the season of overstimulation. Like bitch I’m itchy, sweaty, it’s loud, my neighbors are running machinery, everywhere I go there are throngs of people. I do not enjoy this.

[beenbaanbuun]

meet me in the woods w/ Mingi

words - 3.5k

genre - fluff, friends to lovers, college!au

warnings - emo!mingi, drummer!mingi, pink!mingi, fangirl!reader, kissing, mentions of seasonal depression, mentions of a broken ankle, reader is down bad, so is mingi, they’re both idiots in love, kind of groping but not really sexual

————————————————

there’s still a chill in the air as the seasons flip from winter to spring. it shows in the way the air around you fogs up with every breath you exhale and the way the skin of your exposed thighs pricks up in little bumps. realistically you should’ve worn a pair of jeans rather than a skirt, but that would defeat the point of this whole thing you had going on. a sort of good-riddance-to-winter protest, in which you try to ignore the fact that winter was very much still in play.

although you have to admit you may have been a little too eager. you claim to have your reasons to pretend that winter is already over, but even those reasons seem a little obsolete as you sit on the picnic table awning, shivering every few seconds. perhaps your way of saying goodbye to your particularly bad bout of seasonal depression will have to be shoved to the back of your closet for a few more weeks. just until you're sure you won’t get frostbite.

you shuffle back a few inches, just enough to give yourself room to swing your legs back onto the awning. you have to go down the way you came up; that was a lesson you’d learned the hard way. a broken ankle and a particularly long lecture from your mother about making ‘sensible decisions’ was not something you care to repeat. she, of course, would blow a fuse if she knew you still frequent this spot years later, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. besides, you’re well trained in how to get up and down from your favourite thinking spot, now.

you already have one leg up when you hear a creek coming from behind you. your neck twists in time to see a hand slam itself down on the wooden surface, fingers splayed as they work their hardest to pull the attached body higher up. you recognise the rings like the back of your hand and as you watch mingi struggle, you can’t help but sigh.

“how many times have i told you how to get up here?” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear over his own strained grunts. the single hand that you can see moves until you can see a middle finger pointed in your direction, and you have to laugh, “you seriously can’t remember? right hand on the roof, left foot on the fence, and push yourself up.”

even without seeing his face you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you. he’s heard this lecture from you a bajillion times before, and yet he never learns. it’s always right hand, right foot and pull with him - almost the exact opposite of how you instruct him.

“have you considered that i’m, like, twice the size of you?” he says as he corrects his form and finally manages to raise himself up. he swings his right knee onto the platform and rolls his gangly form onto it. you’ve seen more grace from a new-born horse, but you keep that to yourself as you watch him sit himself up and shuffle closer.

“if anything that would make it easier for you, y’know, since you don’t have to jump to reach the roof.”

you turn your body back to how it was, dropping your legs again so you can swing them over the ledge. the platform looks out over nothing but forest, and you quickly find a particular branch to focus your eyes on as the giant sits in his spot next to you. your hands subconsciously brush over the pair of initials that have been scratched into the wood when you were both teenagers. a small, neat set done with a whittling knife stolen from your father, sitting just beneath a much larger, much messier SMG that mingi had done with the biggest kitchen knife he could find. his mother never did discover how her carving knife missing for a few hours only to return to the knife block covered in moss and dirt.

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his legs down to swing them at the side of yours. your pink sneakers look a little out of place besides his platform doc martin’s that he always wears, despite not needing the extra height, but somehow the contrast feels natural to you, “i thought i’d find you up here. went to your dorm to search for you but your roommate said you were out.”

“and you assumed i was here?” he nods, not bothering to look at you. he too has found a distant branch to focus on.

“where else would you be?” he nudges you with an elbow, “god knows you don’t go to your lectures…”

he’s right about that. you’d given up on college very early into freshman year, and yet you’re somehow still passing. not well, you have to admit, but enough to get a degree at the end of the year.

“my classes suck, mingi,” you clarify as you rip your focus away from that one specific branch. looking at the same thing was getting kind of boring, you realise, so instead you lay down on the dirty wood and stare up at the canopy. the february sun only just pokes through the fir-canopy, dousing you in just enough light to make your skin a little warmer. there was that heat you were hoping for earlier, “why would i go to them when clearly i can pass without?”

“fair point.”

you close your eyes, basking in the light that bathes you. there’s still a slight breeze that makes the fir needles rustle above you, a few of them raining down whenever a particularly strong gust comes along. one lands on your thigh, but it’s quickly brushed off and replaced by mingi’s warm hand. he must’ve been keeping it in the pocket of his oversized korn hoodie, you think to yourself as he squeezes your thigh.

the hoodie is an old favourite of yours. you’d bought it for him a couple of years ago, and it had soon joined what you like to call ‘the elites’ - the small collection of about three hoodies that he had in permanent rotation. it fit him better now than when you first bought it for him. he’d bulked up a lot, after all.

you still couldn’t get the sweet image of him opening the gift with a wide grin on his face out of your head.

he kissed your cheek on that day.

you always seem to blush at the memory.

“why did you come searching for me, anyway?” you say after a few moments of silence. his hand remains firm on your thigh, fingers drumming a rhythm against your leg gently, “don’t you have cooler people to be hanging out with?”

he hums, “all the cool people i know are busy today,” you swing your foot to the side to kick his shin. he lets out a laugh at the little tap - he knows you can kick harder than that - before giving your thigh a gentle tap in return, “besides, maybe i want to hear about all your little kpop groups.”

you scoff at him.

“no, you don’t.”

“no,” mingi agrees, “i don’t. but i do want to spend time with my favourite little fangirl.”

you giggle at him, opening your eyes just in time to see him turn to you with a wonky grin on his face. it seems he’s bored of staring at his branch too since his gaze doesn’t go back to it after a few seconds. it remains on you, boba-pearl pupils staring into your own as the rays of sun make them glisten.

he looks cute like this, you think to yourself. his short pink hair rustles as the wind blows it about. for a man who made so much fuss about the colour when you first dyed it, it has taken him a long time for him to go back to the bleach blonde that he loves so much. part of you likes to think it’s so he can match your own pastel pink hair - that’s a normal thing for best friends to do, right? - but you also know that he’s fiercely protective over his hair and definitely wouldn’t keep it just for your sake.

it needs a trim, you think to yourself as you watch it brush against his eyebrows. you wonder if he’ll let you do it again. he hated it the last time, so you assume the answer will be no. then again, there’s no harm in asking, right? you make a mental note to do so later, wanting nothing more than to see the same cute pout he wore last time you butchered his hair. it’s an expression that he only ever wears around you, much like that sweet smile he’d had moments prior. it’s a softness that he keeps close to his chest, a far cry from the cool exterior he tries to keep when he’s around everyone else. not that you mind the tougher side of him - it’s hot… really hot - but the sweet giggles and adorable nose scrunches will always be your favourite things about him.

“you said everyone else was busy?” you mutter, not bothering to break eye contact to go back to sunbathing. he takes the hint, and brings his legs fully onto the platform so he can face you fully. it’s much better, you think, this way you can see him more clearly, “what are they doing?”

he shrugs.

“i don’t know,” he begins to rub your thigh up and down subconsciously. he does it a lot when he’s talking. if it’s not your thigh - which it usually always is - then it’s his own, or the arm of a chair. it’s just something to keep his hands busy, you suppose, “i think some of the guys wanted to go over melodies, which they don’t need me for. jongho was saying he thinks it’d be cool if there’s a section where his voice and san’s guitar are kind of in sync? i don’t know, it sounds cool in theory but i don’t know if san’s guitar style necessarily matches jongho’s vocal style well enough to do that.”

you watch as his face lights up, just like it always does when he talks about music, or his band. he could talk about their newest ideas for hours, and most of the time you let him. you like to listen to the way his voice rises an octave when he gets excited, and watching his facial expressions never gets old. you love the way he talks with one hand, all while keeping the other firmly on your thigh; or his, or the arm of a chair. it’s nice to see him still so passionate about all the same things he was as a teenager. sometimes you’re even sure you can feel his excitement for him.

it feels an awful lot like butterflies in your stomach.

“and i mean, i know i’m just the drummer but,” you quirk your eyebrow at him and he stops himself talking. a pink flush rises over his face as he realises his slip up, “i didn’t mean just the drummer, i just meant that as the drummer, i don’t know as much about the music theory side as the guitarists do… i hit things, y’know?”

“you hit things very well, though,” you tease, using a manicured finger to poke at his knee. he catches it with the hand that isn’t occupied by your thigh and just holds onto it. its another thing he does a lot; not quite holding your hand, but definitely toeing the line, “and that’s coming from me!”

he rolls his eyes at you, and you were sure that if both his hands weren’t occupied with some other part of your body, he’d make the effort to lean forwards and place a finger over your lips to shush you. again, touching your lips like that it’s just something he does with you, just like almost holding your hands, and playing with your thighs. it’s all completely normal best friend stuff…

except you weren’t this touchy with any other guy. the last time you let a man get this close to you was when wooyoung tried to teach you guitar by moving your fingers into the correct positions for you. there was barely any contact between the two of you, and yet mingi sulked for days. part of you wanted to call it strange, but when you spotted him giving a pretty emo girl his drumsticks after a show, you gave him much of the same attitude.

you wouldn’t call it jealousy, per se, although maybe there was a little bit. mingi was your best friend after all. you have something special with him. something different that you have with no one else and you feel a way that you feel with no one else and-

oh.

oh.

suddenly the hand on your thigh felt very heavy, and you noticed the way his fingertips gently dip under the hem. had they been doing that the whole time? and you couldn’t help but feel like the way his thumb rubbed against the tip of your finger so softly had some type of further meaning behind it. not to mention the neutral yet unbelievably gentle look that took over his features, making him look even more pretty than usual in the scattered rays of light.

his lips were parted every so slightly, revealing that single wonky tooth that you found oh-so adorable. for a second you wondered what they would feel like against your skin, but you soon shunned the thought away as you remembered, oh yeah, the korn sweater. you’d felt them before. you know just how soft and gentle they are. it’s something that often plays on your mind and every time it does, you feel that same burst of excitement built up in your stomach. the one you get when mingi speaks about his passions. the one that feels like butterflies.

it is butterflies. fuck, it’s the whole damn zoo! a stampede of elephants charging though your body each and every time he does something that you find even mildly endearing. it just so happens that you find damn near everything he does endearing. you’d think those elephants would be tired of running by now…

“mingi,” you sigh, breath coming out in a plume of mist. you’d forgotten how cold it was in his presence. being around him just seemed to warm you up, “mingi, come here.”

he furrows his brow, but shuffles a tad closer. you almost groan in disappointment as he takes his hand away from your thigh, the skin immediately growing cold at the lost contact.

“what’s up, sunshine?” you feel em your eyes go wide at the nickname. you don’t know why; he uses it for you all the time.

“mingi, i’m confused… and a little scared,” you admit, although you didn’t know whether it was necessarily the truth. it was probably the closest word to describe how you were feeling though. with the way your heart was threatening to beat through your chest, and the way your stomach churned with nerves and the way your stupid brain had only just managed to catch up with how you had felt all along. it hurt, and it was painful and confusing and yeah, scared was probably a pretty good description.

“scared?” his voice grows serious as his eyes scan you up and down. once he sees that you’re fine physically, they return to your face. he looks just as confused as you feel, “what are you scared about? are you okay? hurt?”

you shake your head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. you let it out in yet another cloud of fog and watch at it floats away into nothing. you wish your butterflies, elephants, would do the same. it would make this whole thing so much easier.

“i’m fine, mingi,” you say, “just scared.”

“can you tell me why?” you nod, although it takes everything in you to do so.

“i want to kiss you,” you admit.

“kiss… me?”

you nod again, feeling a familiar heat rise to your face. the same one you get whenever mingi compliments you, or touches you. you can't believe it’s taken this long to finally figure it all out. it all feels so obvious now.

“i mean… yeah?” he stutters, “kiss me, yeah… yeah that sounds okay- i mean good! it sounds good… kissing, that is.”

if you weren’t feeling completely and utterly out of your depth, you’d have giggled at him. cutie pie you think to yourself before the heat in your body immediately gets more intense, and the elephants not only increase in number but in size too.

it’s now or never. before you can talk yourself out of it, you need to kiss him. because talking yourself out of it could be so easy. you could hop off of the awning, run back to your car and drive back to your dorm. sure, it would hurt when you would inevitably have to lock yourself away in embarrassment and never see mingi again, but time heals all wounds, right? and by the time you’re 50, the pain and embarrassment will have definitely almost healed over…

“so?” he mutters, pulling you back from the fantasy your brain had created, “are you going to do it?”

“i, uh…”

“i mean, i can if you want me to,” he shrugs, trying his hardest to play it cool as if he hadn’t been stuttering seconds prior. as if his face wasn’t just as pink as the mop of hair that sat atop it.

there is nothing cool about this man, you think to yourself as you push yourself into a sitting position. maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him. his nerdy tendencies had tugged you in, and he’d worked his dorky little ways on you until you were hook line and sinker for him.

down bad, as the kids say. down so horrifically bad…

“i can do it,” you whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes. your lips are mere inches from his own, and his hot breath fans across your cold face. his eyes are on yours just briefly before they flicker down to your lips. they rested there for a second before making their way back up to yours, “i can kiss you,” you whisper.

“you can,” he mutters back, bringing his own face close enough to yours that you’re not even sure a sheet of paper would slip between the two of you. his tongue darts out to wet his own lips, gently brushing against yours too. your breath hitches as your last sliver of resolve vanishes. that’s it, you tell yourself, you can’t hold back anymore.

the tiny gap is closed as you press forwards, slamming your lips against his. your fingers shoot up to lace themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his find a home on your waist. his eyelashes flutter against your face as he shuts his eyes, and you follow his lead, doing the same. it’s nice, you realise, the darkness letting you focus on how his lips feel moving slowly against your own. they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there.

he deepens the kiss briefly, tilting his head ever so slightly to get a better angle. it’s a little rougher at this angle, but you can’t find it in you to mind as he takes control. the desperation you feel from him as he moves his lips harshly against your own was something you feel yourself, so you let him take what he needs, taking just as much in return.

and by the time he pulls away, you’re both panting. rapid and hard and together. his lips have barely left your own as he catches his breath, but you don’t pull back either.

“fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “that was… nice?”

“yeah,” you agree. ‘nice’ seems the best way to describe it, although it was so much more than just that, “it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“so nice, sunshine,” he says. a few beats of a silence pass before he presses his lips against yours again, this time for a much shorter, much more innocent peck. you can’t help but giggle as he pulls away. there’s a grin on his face too, “wish we’d done it sooner, though.”

you nod, “yeah, me too.”

“but we have all the time in the world, right?”

he pecks you again. this one lasts a few milliseconds longer than the last, not that you’re counting. when he pulls away, you chase it. another peck, this time led by you, but equally as brief as the other two. it’s his turn to chuckle.

“cute,” he grins, “you’re so cute.”

you get shy under his words and pull back just a tad. the grip he has on your waist refuses to let you go too far from him. you don’t mind; not at all. the fact he wants you so close actually sends the elephants feral. you feel them reach up to your heart to work their magic on that too. it probably isn’t healthy for it to beat at the speed that it is, but you really can’t help it. the elephants seem to respond to mingi and mingi alone. you don’t mind that either.

not at all.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Wonders [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: Sometimes is all you need a wonder in a broken world...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? lots of fluff, talks of pregnancy, slight angst, dad!Daryl

The Whisperer Era!

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: I had to write this. 🥹 Hope y'all like this! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ted?" You called out for your son; voice echoing through the little cottage. "Outside, momma!" Your son answered loud enough for you to hear; feet carrying you straight towards him.

The nine-year-old sat on a small log just outside the cottage. He was highly concentrated on making his first own arrow. His tongue poked out of his mouth and touching his upper lip; eyes fixated on the task ahead. Dog laid beside him on the grass. The faithful canine rarely left the boy's side. Not since Daryl told Dog to always protect Teddy. He understood the assignment. Smart animal, without a doubt...

Daryl was not far. Only a few yards away; chopping wood, so that he could always have an eye on his son.

It had gotten noticeably colder. That was the reason why your husband spent more time with hunting and especially chopping wood. Fall was making itself known and preparing you for the winter, which was probably already lurking just around the corner.

"Oh, you almost finished it?" You spoke in a bright voice; crouching down beside your kid to admire his good work. Teddy nodded proudly, "Mhm. Look!" and showed you the arrow. Of course, it was far from perfect and couldn't be used as a weapon. The tip was blunt - on purpose. Daryl didn't want Teddy to hurt himself. After all, Teddy was still young and his skills not entirely developed yet. But for that, the arrow was good. His father taught him well, you thought with a smile, like you did so often.

"Wow, that's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you," you smiled warmly at the boy and ruffled his long chestnut brown locks. Your son smiled up at you as well. "Thanks, momma."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you; watching the scene in front of his eyes - which reminded you why you actually called your son...

"Teddy, could you go and check on the rabbit traps? I have to talk to daddy." He nodded, "Okay." and hopped from the log, before he carefully placed the arrow on it. "Take Dog with you and be careful, yes?" "Sure, momma. Dog, c'mon." Dog lifted his head and immediately jumped to his feet and fallowed his best friend.

You could still feel your husband's eyes on you, but this time you could tell that he was a bit confused.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened up again and made your way over to Daryl, who continued his work, now that you were on your way to him anyway. It had gotten colder, yes - even for Daryl, who had switched to wearing sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts instead of t-shirts and shirts turned to tops with the sleeves ripped off. With a small grunt, he lunged out and precisely split the wood in two with his axe. You would've lied, if you said that this wasn't sexy in some kind of way. But now was not the time to ogle your man... You had something important to discuss...

"Daryl? Can we talk?"

Your husband looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion, but nodded. "Sure." He snuffled and placed the axe aside. "Do I have ta be worried?" You swallowed and looked down; fingers fumbling nervously with your shirt-sleeve. "Honestly? I-I don't know." A deep frown formed on the archer's forehead. Now he was really concerned - and you could see it clearly on his face. After over ten years being a couple, you could read this man like a book.

"Ya don know? Sunshine, wha's that s'pposed ta mean?"

Your eyes darted to Teddy for a short moment; watching him in distance check on the rabbit traps together with Dog. He had grown up so fast... Sure, in a world like this he had to, but you'd have loved to give him a better childhood and youth. Not cruel and full of death and blood. Was this truly something you wanted to bestow on another- "Hey, Y/N..."

Daryl's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; his hands on yours caused you to turn your head to face him again. "Wha's wrong? Talk ta me. Please." You swallowed once again; taking a deep breath. "Daryl, I... I missed two cycles. One happened before, but two..." You could see the gears turning in his head. He blinked; his palms twitching around your hands. "Darlin'... Are you... Are you tryin' to tell me wha' I think yer tryin' to tell me?" You nodded. "Uh.Huh..."

Daryl let go of your hands again and started to pace up and down; fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. You watched him for a few moments; giving him some time to process this - until you couldn't take the silence anymore. "D-Daryl? Say somethin', please..."

Your husband stopped dead in his movements for a moment, before he almost hastily started to search his things together. Crossbow, vest, map.

You frowned; now utterly confused. "Daryl?" He strapped on his crossbow, "'M goin' out; find a pharmacy and get a test." and smiled at you. Truly smiled. The first smile in months - hell, even years after Rick's disappearance, which reached his eyes.

You were slightly surprised and taken aback, but you certainly didn't complain. "A-Alright, sure, but now? Sweetie, it's gettin' dark soon..." Daryl was already making his way over to his bike. "Don care. I gotta know, sunshine. Hell, I wanna know." "Uh, okay," you were still rather flabbergasted, as you followed him. "But be careful, yeah? Be safe." The archer leaned slightly to the right, in order to press a quick, but loving kiss against your lips. "'Course, sunshine."

And off he went.

Your eyes fallowed him as long as you could; crossing your arms over your chest as the chilly breeze hit your body.

"Where's daddy goin'?" Teddy appeared beside you; Dog in tow and three rabbits in his hands. You looked down at your little boy; "Just on a small run. He'll be back soon." adjusting the red bandana around his neck. "Let's go inside, huh? It's getting cold."

Your son nodded and followed you inside the cottage.

It had gotten late. By now it was pitch black outside - and raining. Daryl wasn't back yet and so slowly started your worries to creep in. Therefore, you occupied yourself. Made sure everything was walker safe, took care of the rabbits, fed Dog, had dinner and spent some time with Teddy, before you wanted to send him off to bed. But, of course, like always, the nine-year-old refused to sleep. Not until his father was back. You had no other choice but to let him.

Another hour later, you finally heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle. A relieved sigh left your lips, while your son was already storming out of his tiny room and straight towards the door. He had heard it, too.

A few moments later, Daryl stepped inside; bringing a good portion rain, leaves and wind with him. He quickly shut the door, put down his crossbow and shed himself of his wet poncho.

"Daddy!" Teddy sprinted straight into his dad's arms, who lifted him up and hugged him tight. "Hey, bud. Yer not asleep yet?" Daryl looked at you and you silently told him why; Teddy still clinging to him. Daryl understood, of course and walked with his son without further ado to the boy's room, which was right behind your bedroom. For safety reasons, of course. "Good night, baby." Teddy turned to smile tiredly at you; hand tucked neatly into Daryl's. "Nighty night, momma."

While your husband tucked Teddy in, you hung up the wet poncho to dry. Now that Daryl was back from his little run and the worries about his well-being ceased, there was space again for the previous thoughts and fears to come back again. The missed cycles and the possibility of being pregnant. It wasn't like you didn't want to be, no. Actually, it would be a wonderful surprise, but... So much had changed around you since Teddy. The world had changed around you. Being pregnant wasn't that 'easy' anymore...

You didn't even notice that you were totally lost in thoughts, but when a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, you snapped out of the bubble.

"Teddy asleep?" Daryl nodded. "Mhm." You felt the urge to be close to your husband; hoping that this would take your doubts and fears away. So, you leaned into his half embrace and slung your arms around his torso. Daryl immediately got the hint and wrapped you up in a big, protective bear hug.

"You okay?" You heard him ask then; concern swinging within his voice. "Yeah, 's just... You know..." You felt the archer nod against your head. "Let's find out?" "Let's find out."

Daryl handed you three different brands of pregnancy tests with a shrug. "Didn't know which one's good. Ain't ma specialty. Jus' thought 'm bringing them all." You took them. "It's okay, sweetie. Just gonna take all of 'em to be sure."

Said and done. With shaky hands you did what you had to do, before you returned to your husband, who was pacing again up and down the room like a wounded animal.

You placed all three tests upside-down on the little, wooden dining table; taking a deep breath. "How long do we have ta wait?" "Normally 'bout a few minutes," you answered and turned to face him. He nodded. Once more you stepped up close to your man; needing to ask the question which was occupying you since the first thought of pregnancy crossed your mind - even though he already gave you a nonverbal and kinda verbal answer. "Daryl..." You whispered his name; laying your palms on his chest. "Would you... Would you want this? A-Another baby? Would you be... happy 'bout it?"

You felt how one of his arms encircling your waist; the other hand cupping your cheek. "Darlin', I'd be the happiest man on earth. After all the things which happened..." He paused for a moment; swallowing hard - and you knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. I'd be happy." You smiled softly; rubbing his pecks gently. "Truly?" Daryl nodded, but could definitely see in your eyes how troubled you were. "Yes. 'M not gonna... do the things I did ten years back. I promise." You shook your head. "'S not what I'm worried about, Daryl... I... The world has changed around us. Being pregnant is not that 'easy' anymore..."

The archer chew on his bottom lip; listening to your every word, before he nodded again. "I know whatcha mean, sunshine. 'S nothing easy in this world anymore, but we got each other. We'll make this work, 'cause we both want tis, right?"

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you smiled. "Yes."

Your husband reciprocated your smile and hugged you tightly; reassuring.

"Let's take a look, eh?" He whispered then; slowly letting go of you. You nodded, "Let's take a look." and took Daryl's hand in yours; gently pulling him over to the small dining table. You stared at the three plastic sticks; nervosity still coursing through your veins. "D-Daryl, can you...?" He squeezed your hand and stepped closer to the table. His eyes met yours as he nodded.

You swallowed hard and took a step back; watching how his calloused fingers danced over the tests. Daryl lifted all of them up and slowly turned them in his hands; eyes focused. "A-And?" He didn't answer you; just kept on staring. "Daryl!"

At the call of his name, he finally looked up; one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen him smile stretched over his whole face. "Well... Looks like we're gonna have 'nother baby, sunshine."

You blinked; needing a moment to process his words. "They... They're positive?" Your husband nodded; still smiling broadly. "All three of 'em?" Another nod. "Yeah," Daryl stated and turned them for you to see. And indeed... They were clearly positive.

"Oh my gosh..." You clapped your hand over your mouth; tears immediately blurring your vision. Yet you saw Daryl placing the tests aside again and stepping up to you; his hands finding their way around your waist. He pressed his forehead against yours. "'M happy about this, sunshine. I truly am. This is wonderful," he said in a low voice; holding on to you. "We got this, yeah?" You nodded; happy tears rolling down your cheeks as your hands clasped gently onto the lapels of Daryl's vest. "Yeah."

Both, you and Daryl enjoyed this little moment you had together; relishing in the joy of the news.

You started to giggle; taking Daryl a bit by surprise. "Teddy's gonna be over the moon 'bout this." Your husband agreed. "Hell yeah. He 'n Dog are gonna be the best big brothers." You giggled once again; the cutest scenarios already forming in your mind. "Oh, I'm convinced by that."

Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @wolfsmom1

[iliketangerines]

Can I request oneshot of Mk1 Liu Kang x Fem s/o Jinx (Dc comics) whose power is to give bad luck because of this power she always isolates herself in fear of hurting others when she tells Liu about her power he doesn't care and still loves her anyway; she is gentle and soft spoken please?

jinx, jinx again!

a/n: i changed the personality of the reader around, but i think it makes more sense

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Liu Kang wonders where you are

you were a powerful champion, one with the power to turn the tides of luck and turn the war towards any one side

he had created you in this timeline with the intent to protect Earthrealm, and yet, you’re nowhere to be found on any speck of the planet

and so Liu Kang set out on a journey to find you, going through the sands of time to try and locate you with Geras to bring you to his side before Shang Tsung or anyone else could use your powers for evil

Liu Kang sighs and rubs at the headache forming in his head, it had been days since he had started looking

and yet, you were nowhere to be found, finding the other champions had not nearly been this difficult and yet here you were, unfindable

Geras calls over Liu Kang and points to something in the hourglass, a piece of sand stuck to the side, stubbornly refusing to fall in with the rest of them

Liu Kang raises his eyebrow and picks out the sand and opens its threads to show its life, and there you were

he scrolls through your life memories, searching for where you are, but now he sees why you were so hard to find

your power to change the tides had manifested as bad luck, and it had driven you away from society and only heightened your anxiety

and that heightened your powers, which turned into a never ending cycle of you falling deeper and deeper into your powers

and your powers had kept you away from Liu Kang, from forming connections with the right people to harness your powers

and so you lived in isolation in fear of harming others

Liu Kang rubs his chin as he tries to find your exact location, and he hums as he finds you, isolated high in the mountains, somehow surviving on your own despite everything

he summons a portal and tells Geras that hopefully he will be back soon with you in hand, and Liu Kang disappears

it’s snowing, trees covered in the soft powder, and the birds chirp quietly into the air as Liu Kang makes his way through the forest

he finds your house in the distance, a humble cabin barely holding itself together, and he knocks upon your door

he hears some crashing from within a house and a loud thud before the door unlatches, and you peek out from behind the door, eyes wide as you stare at him

your fingers twitch as you notice his glowing eyes and his lack of winter clothing, and he asks to enter

you shut the door in his face, and he can hear yourself mumbling to yourself, before you open the door again and ask who he is

Liu Kang tells you who he is, god of fire and protector of earthrealm, and he tells you he is here to recruit you in the defense of earthrealm

you raise your eyebrows and then laugh, cackling and howling even as Liu Kang stands in front of you with a stern face

you raise your hand up into the air, and the top of the doorway falls down right into your awaiting hands, as if you knew it was going to happen

you shove it back in place before telling him that that was a funny joke, but he shouldn’t have been able to find you in the woods

you open the rest of the door to reveal the sharp blade you carry, and Liu Kang raises his hands in surrender, trying not to provoke you any further

but he can see the way your hands slightly tremble and how your breath comes out a bit stuttered as you hold the knife towards him

Liu Kang says he truly is a god and he summons flames into his hand to show you

you look at him in surprise and nearly drop the knife into the snow, and you fumble with it, managing to cut yourself in the process

you hiss out in pain and press your thumb into your mouth, trying to clean the wound as Liu Kang looks upon you

he tells you he has the answer to your plight, that he can cure your bad luck if you come with him to train and defend earthrealm

you look up at him with quirked eyebrows, surprised that he even knew of your terrible luck

he summons a portal behind him, one that led to his academy, and he gestures that you can take his offer, to control your powers and make friends and to build connection

your eyes dart between the portal and your rickety home, unsure if you should leave everything behind

you always had bad luck, and it drew everyone away from you

you bounced from home to home, from school to school as your bad luck harmed everyone else and you

now, you have a chance to get rid of your bad luck, to make the human connection you so desperately craved after years in isolation

you spin in a circle and step out from under the doorway as the top of it falls down again

you don’t catch it and let it fall into the snow as you take a deep breath and take Liu Kang’s hands

he’s warm, warmer than anyone you’ve ever experienced, and he gives you a small smile before leading you through the portal to your new life

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IV

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake

Part V >>

The Autumn Court was on the constant verge of death, Elain knew, but it was still the loveliest place she had ever seen. Eris had winnowed them first to the border, where the trees created a canopy so thick, she couldn’t even see the sky. The richest reds, the darkest oranges, and the deepest greens had surrounded Elain. Cora had looked as equally impressed by the change of scenery, and Elain had wondered if the woman had ever left the stifling Hewn City. 

Autumn was everything Elain had imagined the lands of faerie to be like. The chill was biting, she had noticed, cold like the first kiss of winter. She had been stunned into silence, had forgotten she was upset that Eris had not even let her say a proper goodbye to her family. 

Before Elain had had a moment to catch her breath, before she could truly appreciate the wild flowers and the unfamiliar trees, Eris had not bothered to warn her or Cora as he took them directly to the Forest House. 

Eris had let go of her hand so suddenly that Elain had stumbled, and had grabbed onto the woman who would act as her lady’s maid. Cora had gently supported her, shooting an angry glare at the Autumn heir’s turned back. 

Eris had led them through winding halls, windows dark at the late hour, torches their only light. Elain had realised that she much preferred the flickering flames of Autumn to the faelights ever-present in the Night Court.  

Eris had given them a moment to look at the guest suite, all wood and stone and comfortable carpets, before he had told Elain they would be going straight to Beron.

Elain understood that Lucien was in a great deal of danger, but the quick pace at which everything was happening was enough to make her light-headed, unsteady. 

“The High Lord is expecting you,” Eris offered her his arm, but when Elain hesitated, he added, “and it’s best not to keep him waiting.” 

Elain did not reach for Eris, instead she asked, “Because I’m Lucien’s mate?” She very nearly spat the last word at Eris in distaste. Saying Lucien’s name out loud was like a vicious blow, especially since she so often refused to allow herself the liberty. On the other side of the wall it was improper, Lucien wasn’t Elain’s husband, and the familiarity with which his name fell from her lips was enough to rattle her. 

Eris shook his head, the firelight from the torches reflecting off his golden jewellery. “Because he received your letter.” His answering smile was ruthless, that of a wolf. The expression didn’t reach his amber eyes. 

Elain only frowned in confusion, she glanced at Cora. “I never–” 

Elain did not get the chance to finish her statement, not as Eris waved his hand elegantly and a letter floated gently past her face. She snatched the paper from the air, her eyes scanning its contents with growing disbelief. 

The Night Court’s wax seal was still intact and the letter was simply worded, respectful. 

Lord Eris Vanserra, it is with great urgency that I write to you, so that I might request an audience with the High Lord of the Autumn Court…

Elain continued to skim what was clearly a plea for help. Cora moved closer to peek over Elain’s shoulder and she made a low sound of displeasure. 

What surprised Elain the most was not what was written in the letter, but rather the elegant, looping scrawl, exactly like her own. Even the signed name, Lady Elain Archeron, was identical. Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the perfect forgery. 

Before Elain could say anything, Eris spoke, a hidden warning in the tone of his voice. “I received your letter just in time, Lady, my father was growing tired of waiting for someone to notice Lucien’s absence.” His words were careful, so much so that Elain wondered if Eris was worried about someone listening in on their conversation. He offered her his arm once more, a flawless gentleman. 

This time, Elain was quick to loop her arm through his, nodding in understanding. Briefly Elain wondered how Eris had managed to forge the letter so well, but she pushed those thoughts aside, vowing to bring it up again at a later time. The light blue fabric of her sleeve was an ugly contrast to the deep green colour of Eris’s velvet jacket. “I am glad, then,” Elain said softly, “that I sent my letter to you when I did.” 

Elain saw as Eris’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly in relief, although he said nothing in response. The thick oak doors of the guest room opened silently, the long hallway beyond was menacing, shadows dancing as the torches flickered. 

Elain took a deep breath to calm herself, her posture perfect, just like her mother had taught her a lifetime ago. Elain wondered if the steady heartbeat she could hear was her own or Lucien’s, now that distance no longer separated them.   

Eris stepped forward, and Elain followed, Cora just a few steps behind. Elain was grateful for her strong and silent presence, but before all three of them could walk past the stone entrance of the room and into the hallway, Eris paused. 

Auburn brow raised, he glared at Cora with flames in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’ve come with the Lady, shouldn’t I stay by her side?” Cora snapped, her words sharp and lacking any of the respect one would have expected her to show a prince. Elain liked her instantly. 

“It’ll only annoy my father,” Eris replied, glancing at Elain before he faced Cora once more. 

Cora looked like a queen, Elain thought, her braid as good as any gold crown. “And leave the High Lady’s sister alone with you?” The last word was a snarl.

“You’re her lady’s maid, not her personal guard,” Eris responded, not taking his eyes off Cora. She continued to glare, and Eris smiled mockingly, daring her to argue. 

Elain felt as though the tension between them could be cut with a knife, locked as they were in their silent battle of wills. 

“Besides,” Eris drawled, “what use will you be against the wrath of a High Lord?” 

A blush stained Cora’s brown cheeks, the fingers of her one hand curling into a fist. Elain wondered if she would have hit Eris, but she did not wait any longer to find out if that would have been the case. 

“Thank you, Cora,” Elain interjected. “I’ll be fine.” Her words were confident, even though Elain herself was anything but. 

Cora did not seem satisfied with the way the night seemed to be unfolding, but all she did was sigh in frustration. “Good luck, then,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when Lucien is freed.” 

Cora’s words were enough to spark an ember of hope within Elain, but as she walked arm-in-arm with Eris to the throne room, panic was beginning to send unwelcome shivers down her spine. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Eris murmured, not looking at Elain. He continued to walk at an unhurried pace, the sound of his boots hitting the stone in a steady rhythm. The carved double-doors of the throne room towered just a few more steps ahead of them. “No harm will come to you, Elain, I swear it on my life.”  

Elain did not know why she believed Eris’s words, but she tightened her grip on his arm, grateful. The doors opened, the hinges groaning with the weight of the wood, and the throne room was revealed, so unlike the one Rhysand and Feyre had in the Hewn City. 

Beron Vanserra sat on a throne of ancient maple, leaves carved into the thick wood with a steady hand. Elain’s first thought was that he looked nothing like Lucien, but there was a ghost of Eris in the turned down corners of his full lips. 

Elain fought not to shrink into herself, to keep her head high, at his assessing gaze. He was frightening, and Elain could almost feel his power within the space. Beron was the oldest High Lord, Feyre had warned her, and Elain wondered if that made him the most dangerous. 

The Lady of Autumn was a striking figure in a gown the colour of fresh blood. Her throne was just as lovely as her husband’s, although it was smaller. Elain caught the way the lady straightened her back, how she brought herself forward to look at Eris. Her husband did not see the desperation in her eyes as she looked at her eldest son, but Elain recognized the emotion, had seen it before on countless women hoping for miracles. 

Eris stopped right before the pair of rulers, dropping his hold on Elain’s arm. Elain elegantly curtsied, her face downturned, the movements practised, and she was grateful for the lessons she had suffered as a young girl. Elain was surprised momentarily as Eris bowed slightly at the waist beside her, the respectful gesture clearly deference to his High Lord and not the comfortable greeting of a parent.   

“Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court,” Beron’s voice was harsh like the slash of a knife. “You have requested this meeting, and while I am pleased by your arrival to my court, I can offer you very little of my time.”    

Elain raised her head, smiling pleasantly. “High Lord, Lady” she greeted as her eyes flicked between them, “thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home.” 

“You were most troubled in the letter we received,” Beron stated, raising a dark eyebrow as he silently asked her to make her case. 

“I am troubled still,” Elain responded, trying her best to twist her words together just as faeries did. It came unnaturally to her, but her time in Velaris had allowed her to become familiar with the specific patterns of the High fae. “I’ve asked only for a moment of your time to make a most significant request.”

Beron’s answering smile was cruel, embers flared in his dark eyes. “Then make your request, child.” 

It was intended to be an insult, Elain was sure, calling her a child. Elain was not bothered by it, and she looked straight at the ancient being before her, chin held high. “I have come to request that my mate, Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of Autumn, be allowed a safe return to the Night Court.”

Elain’s words rang clear in the near-empty throne room. The Lady of Autumn’s sharp breath was like the shattering of glass as they all waited for the High Lord’s response. 

“The bond has not yet been accepted, everyone knows this.” Beron waved a hand dismissively. “You have no claim to him.”

“High Lord,” Elain began, and Eris reached for her elbow, tension in the set of his mouth. “We were to be married,” she continued, ignoring his silent warning. 

“When?” Beron Vanserra questioned, casting a devastating glare in his eldest son’s direction. It was clear that the High Lord doubted Elain’s words. 

Panic gripped Elain so suddenly she could barely breathe. “In two weeks' time, on the first day of Spring.” Elain hoped she sounded certain, confident. Eris looked ready to shove her behind him, his body angled in a way that suggested he was ready for a violent confrontation. 

Beron’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “I believe you, Lady Elain, and take no offence, but I still must confirm the truth of your claims with my son.” 

No sooner had the High Lord finished his sentence and the throne room’s doors opened with a groan. Elain couldn’t help but turn around, drawn to her mate. 

You are mine. 

The thought crashed through her mind like a wave against the shore, shocking and unwanted. Elain could finally sigh in relief, though, at seeing Lucien bruised and bloody, but knowing that he was relatively unharmed. 

Lucien looked proud, arrogant, as he was shoved further into the throne room by a careless guard. He did not notice Elain at first, not until she tugged on the golden thread that tied them together. Beron watched them like a predator watched prey, hungry for a slip in their demeanour. 

Elain’s brown eyes met Lucien’s, and all the fire he had possessed a moment before quickly went out. Like the first rays of the sun going over the horizon, horror dawned daybright on the lovely features of Lucien’s face. 

Elain looked at Lucien, the smell of burning wood and dying leaves thick in the air, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a terrible mistake coming to the Autumn Court.

[needfantasticstories]

My Light

The sun was high when Sky stepped out of the house he shared with Zelda—his Sun—in the glen near Lanayru. She was cutting wood for the winter; a task he’d promised to help with before the letter came. Crimson waited for him by the gate, preening a curious Indigo. 

“Any word? Is Groose doing okay, or is he still sulking?” Sun set her ax on the tree stump and looked at the basket of vegetables and fruit she’d set aside from his garden for their dinner. Sky was many things, but a good cook was not one of them, no matter all the training Wild had tried to give him. Growing it was another matter, with Sun’s aid. She sighed, as they both realized their dinners would be lonely tonight. 

“He’s missing. Groose hasn’t shown up in any of the settlements. I’m getting worried. He should have been back by now, and the winter floods are coming soon. But I want to check the mines again. I might be out late.”

“Sky, I’m sure he'll be fine. He just needs time to think about how to make it up to Peatrice. He’s probably rage-building a new track out there. But let me send you out with a few supplies for you both before you go. And I’ll keep a candle in the window for you.”

“You’re the best, Sun. I’ll watch for your light.” 

*** 

Hyrule Castle was a monument to the devotion Sky and Sun felt for their people and their future. They had designed it together, based on the many castles, palaces, monuments, and temples they had seen on their adventures. But they’d always known it would outlast them.

Sky ran up the tower steps, anxious to see his Sun, old joints and sore knees be damned. His daughter, Queen Zelda II, ran up the steps behind him, well into her fifties and yet suddenly a child once more, anxious for her mother.

“Father, what if she doesn’t…”

“We don’t know for certain, my Moonpearl." The old King answered. "We can hope, so let's hold on to it. She’s always been stubborn.”

Despite their hurried climb, Sky paused at the door. He paused, and said one last prayer to the goddess he knew could not longer hear him, and stepped inside. Evening sunlight filtered through a stained glass window showing the Triforce framed by a protecting loftwing. Dust motes danced in the beams that shone on the bed, where lay his Sun.

“The healers said you called for us…” He trailed off when he saw her. Only this morning she had been at rest, if a bit fevered. Now her face was nearly as white as her hair. Her breath rattled loud enough to hear from the doorway. Her shaking hands, once calloused and now soft with age, shook as she reached out to her family. 

“My Sun.” Sky ran to her side, ignoring the healers who stood with heads bowed nearby. He left his circlet and red cloak at the foot of the bed. They were always cumbersome. 

She took his hands, their old and worn fingers interweaving. “I know, my Sky. But…” her breath rattled as she tried to breath. “But Zelda... Help her.”

“How? She’s grown. She doesn't’ need—”

“You helped me once, when the changes came. But you…and I… know… this isn’t… the end of our story.” 

“Mother?” Zelda came cautiously to her mother’s side, and she climbed onto the bed to sit beside her. 

Sun seemed to find strength at seeing her daughter, and took Zelda’s strong hand in her aged one. “Darling. It’s time for you to come into your own power now. You are Queen already, but soon you will be something more . Take it slow. We are both somewhat fragile. But this light is yours now. It’s time.”

She kissed her daughter’s hand, who curled beside her mother on the bed as she used to when she was still a child. Her father leaned over Queen Sun, and kneeling at her bedside he kissed her one last time. He’d never hesitated, never been ashamed of his love for her. And nothing had been able to stand between them. Death was their last enemy.

And she had defeated it before they were born.

“I’ll keep a candle in the window for you,” he whispered as her eyes closed.

“And so will I. I’ll watch…for your light too.” She replied, and fell asleep for the last time. 

***

Night was falling quickly. Link sat in the open carriage, small and wide-eyed between his mother and Grandpa Smith. He admired the massive turrets of Hyrule Castle, where they would be living now. Father rode on his warhorse ahead of the carriage, leading them to the ceremony where he would receive his promotion to Captain. It was a matter of pride and celebration for the whole family. 

As they rode past the gates, Link looked up. High in a tower, a lone candle glowed beside a stained glass window, the image there of the Triforce and two golden wings shone bright in the light.  

[writing-oof]

I Don’t Care What the Voices Say; I Do Not Trust You

This is my submission for Day 1 of the First Try Technoblade Challenge! Because Tumblr formatting sucks, it’s taken like 20 mins to actually post, but I finished this at 11:59 PM, starting at 11:30 lol

It’s RivalsDuo (Dream and Technoblade)

This story has some blood and mostly implied gore. Don’t worry, though, cause it ends nice :]

Technoblade breathes into his hands, the air seeping out of his hands chilled into a fog in the mid-Winter freeze.

Something crunches, snapping sickly like sinew and bone, and Technoblade presses back against the wood of the barn.

Blood is thick in the air.

yes

Yes

YES

At least someone's happy, even if it's probably never going to be him.

The horses seem unbothered, barely sparing a glance to the massacre or to Technoblade's presence in their shared stall.

He's pretty sure horses are meant to have their own stalls, but he supposes that's only for normal horses and not whatever sorts of horses the fae keep.

They look like normal horses, but the four-legged fae now feasting together on Technoblade's Elders had looked normal at first too.

good idea

nom

ew gross

Technoblade scans the bit of barn he can see again, but like the first few times it's clear that there's nowhere for him to run.

Bootsteps squelch on bloodied mud, the four-legged fae sniffing as they creep deeper into the barn, all moving in the same direction like a pack of wild wolves descending on a lone deer. The claws on their hands drag on the wall, a soft scraping sound that sends shivers down Techno's spine.

He tightens his grip, nails biting into his cheek as he holds his own mouth closed.

His heart hammers in his chest.

dont be a baby

fight fight fight

monster pog

youre so annoying

He doesn't have time to be distracted. He can hear them closing in, the creatures passing by the stall with the sheep as if they can smell him cowering among the horses.

The doors to the stable stall creak on their hinges as something hisses and rasps, a thousand tongues flicking the air.

popsicle gone in one lick :(

i hate you guys

Be Quiet. We're about to die.

Something clangs from the entryway, metal on metal shaking the air. The fae hiss and, in an instant, whatever was coming to bother them is gone, swarmed with facefulls of teeth.

Chat laughs in time with the screaming, a sick sort of harmony to it.

die?

technoneverdies

you never die

you wont die

you cant die

technoblade never dies

They're going to eat us, Techno hisses, his eyes burning, What blood will you get then?

Chat stutters to a halt.

Then, all at once, they return.

no non no no blood?

blood? no more blood?

L

cringe

not very pog

blood need blood

It's whisper after whisper of the same sentiment, all equally unhelpful. Until--

sneak out the back

Technoblade moves before he can second-guess himself.

He can't fight the fae, they're twice his size at least and more than ten times him in numbers. So, running it is.

technosneak

technostealth

shhhhh

focus

The wood creaks quietly beneath him, but the swarm is distracted enough that they only twitch. Nothing sees him as he slinks out of the horse's stall and into the cows.

There, in the furthest corner of the stall, is a gap. It's nearly too small for him, and no one else in the village would have had a chance in hell at slipping through it.

Technoblade barely makes it through, pulling himself as small as he can.

He creeps away from the building and toward the treeline, step by careful step.

be careful

He is.

He's so careful that he barely realizes he's made it into the forest until trees are around him on all sides.

Techno lets out a breath. Still, the night isn't over.

And neither, it seems, is the hunt.

A fae howls, loud and dizzying, and Technoblade holds his breath.

Chat doesn't waste a second though, screaming in tandem.

RUN

Technoblade knows better than to wait and he doesn't hesitate. Before he can even get his bearings, he's off like a shot, following the directions of the choir of whispers deeper into the trees.

left

right

there

faster

He can hear the trees bending behind him, branches twice his width snapping as the swarm gains on him.

Trees rush past him in a blur until he stops, boots skidding in the dirt as he stares at a figure directly in his path.

"Run!" Technoblade shouts, trying to urge them on, "There's fae coming!"

wait

The figure, a boy about his size, blinks. He stammers for a second before shrugging helpless and turning to the creatures that have made their way back into Techno's sight. He narrows his eyes and demands, "Go away!"

Techno's heart drops, sure that this is how it ends, but miraculously--as if puppets pulled by strings--the fae turn around and thud back from whence they came.

what

Techno stops, eyes wide and lungs still heaving. "How the hell did you get them to go away?"

The boy just smiles and waves awkwardly. "Uh…hi?"

He glances down at Technoblade's feet.

Suddenly, all of the breath rushes out of Techno's lungs.

There, underneath his heel, a mushroom bends, one in a ring of dozens.

On the grass, just a few feet from the boy, is a smiling porcelain mask that shimmers even in the shade.

When he looks, rows of needle-point teeth glimmer behind the fae's lips.

fae friend?

ohh

pog

Technoblade, not exactly sharing the sentiment, scrambles back with a scream.

---

(So the idea here was like evil cannibal fae? but not all of them just the ones techno runs into and then dream buddy now bound by souls cause baby man stepped on a shroom its all good though theyre buddies)

[stiricidewrites]

The Damage You Do: ch 16, pt 1

Check out the first part of the series on Ao3, please mind the tags there!

This is a reupload of stuff that was previously written on the formerly bird app, for ease of access!

~

Please note: the boys are playing with consensual non-consent in this chapter!

~

wwx hissed as he stepped onto his aching foot, pain from his ankle screaming up his leg as he pushed onwards. He’d been lucky, having been able to wrap his ankle up soon after he twisted it, so the pain wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t walk, but he most certainly couldn’t run. Not if he were still on the path, definitely not pushing his way through the thick brush in an attempt to avoid his attacker.

He yelped when a prickly bush dragged across his arm, the sleeves of his sweater still pushed up from when he had been running, from when the cold winter day had become too hot with exertion. He was cold now though. Unable to run, a thread of fear shuddering through him with every step he took.

He was too far away, he had gotten too far away from the trail—not that it had been occupied by many people liable to hear his screams anyways. He’d only come across two people in nearly 20 minutes, both of whom had turned out to be complete douchebags. The first dude had been a creep, hitting on him and being a pushy shit who wouldn’t take no for an answer before getting way too handsy. Then the second dude—who had been so fucking hot wwx had thought he would die from the strain of looking at him—had come along and helped scare the guy off with his scary—and did wwx mention hot?—glare. Then. Then.

wwx huffed, stopping for a moment to try and catch his breath and listen for sounds of the man chasing after him now that his own crashing through the cold forest had stopped. Around him birds that hadn’t migrated for the winter chirped, branches and leaves rustled in the wind or from animals that hadn’t run the fuck off for how much noise he’d been making—noise that wasn’t echoed by the movements of his pursuer.

Maybe… maybe the hot and terrifying stalker man had taken off? Maybe he’d lucked out and the man who had apparently been stalking him for the last week—something his stalker-saviour had accidentally revealed when they had been chatting following his rescue from random-assailant dude—had realized that chasing him through the woods was not going to win him any points—

wwx’s head swivelled towards a loud crash to his left, his heart stuttering in his chest as he searched for any sign of the man, listening for even the slightest movement from the same area. His entire body tensed, every atom inside him focusing onto that small section of the forest. Waiting, watching, preparing to run or fight or scream, but nothing happened, not even the snap of a branch reached his ears and slowly the tension began to leave him—

wwx gasped when a large hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly he was being pushed forward until his chest smacked into a thick tree.

“Found you, beautiful,” a deep voice whispered into his ear as he struggled between the hardness of the tree and his stalker’s body pressing close behind him.

“Hey, now,” wwx swallowed out as he tried to get his free hand between himself and the tree to get more leverage, “how about you let me go and we forget this whole thing? I’ll even pretend it never happened if you want to, uhm… try to meet me again in the normal way? How about a coffee shop? I can pretend I don’t have money and you can come pay for me and then we can sit and chat and—”

Behind him he felt the man’s hips move—or something attached to them twitch? Ack. Ack, fuck fuck fuck—and he shuddered in dread as the man hummed contemplatively, the kind of contemplatively that seemed to say <i>“I’m listening and pretending to think your suggestion over… but I’m not actually considering it in the slightest.”</i>

“I don’t think so,” the man said a moment later, his body pressing more firmly into wwx’s back and yup, that was definitely a very hard—not to mention large—weapon poking into his ass. There was no way that could be the guy’s dick, there was no way anyone could walk around with that kinda equipment attached to them! It had to be a gun or a knife or something, right? Right!?

“Ah…” wwx sighed, laughing tightly as he continued trying to get himself more leverage. “Don’t like that idea? I bet I can think of something else? Ah… how about some kinda cute meet with my kid?”

“A-Yuan, yes?” the man asked, confirming the dread that had been building inside wwx’s stomach that the man who had been stalking him knew about his son—and likely the rest of his family as well. “He is quite cute. You have done a good job raising him.”

“Th–thanks!” wwx stuttered out, trying to sound chill and calm even as his voice squeaked and his heart raced and his mind swirled trying to figure out a way to escape. The man was bigger than him, stronger and likely armed. There was no way he could—

“Wha-what are you doing!?” wwx yelped as his stalker’s free hand began tugging at his jogging pants.

The man’s hand froze for a moment before continuing pulling down on the tight fabric. “Convincing you to be mine,” he said and wwx almost laughed at the way lwj’s voice stumbled over his words. It were like something from bad porn, the idea of convincing someone to date or willingly fuck you with your cock.

wwx bit his lip, trying to force himself to stay in character of freaked out stalking victim even as giggles bubbled inside him. lwj was cute; cute and awkward. wwx had seen him fall into other characters though, to be mean and hard, soft and kind, and he wondered for a moment why playing a stalker wasn’t quite as seamless as the others had been. “You think that’ll work!?” he asked once he was no longer at risk of laughing as he spoke, instead trying to make his voice sound disbelieving, although it still sounded too amused to his own ears, and given the huff that sounded behind him, lwj seemed to hold the same opinion. “Forcing yourself on me ain’t gonna win you any brownie points, dude!” he shouted, annoyed he couldn’t stay in character either and resuming his wiggling for freedom with more vigour than before.

“Perhaps not,” the man said as he pushed the waist of wwx’s pants and underwear under his ass cheeks, “but this may be my only chance to enjoy your little hole.”

wwx yelped when the man’s hand snapped out to grab the hand he had been trying to press against the tree trunk, yanking it back to gather both of wwx’s wrists into one of his abnormally large hands. “Let me go!” wwx yelled, beginning to scream as loud as he dared for help. They’d moved quite a bit away from the mostly deserted trails, far enough that hopefully no one would hear them, but it would be super awkward if someone showed up to help him—or worse, called the cops! Having to explain they’d just been playing with consent in the middle of a public forest would be so bad and potentially result in charges wwx didn’t have time or money to deal with!

“No,” the man said as he began to unbuckle his own belt, the metal of the buckle clinking sharply to wwx’s heightened senses. “I will not,” he added as something warm—and fucking huge!!—dragged across wwx’s ass.

wwx’s yelling caught in his throat as the reality that the weapon the he had felt in his assailant’s pants had turned out to be a completely different kind of weapon—the kind that was going to destroy his tight little virgin ho—

wwx gasped when the man’s dick rubbed over his hole—his already wet hole.

“Already ready for me?” his stalker asked as he thrust three fingers straight into wwx’s hole—the hole that lwj had helpfully suggested they take a moment to prepare before moving into their playtime, his ears having turned an adorable red as he told wwx a story about an unfortunate visit to the emergency room following an scene where his partner’s hole had not been stretched enough in the midst of their non-consent play.

“No!” wwx squeaked, trying again to get away. “I was— I was waiting for my boyfriend!” he cried, internally laughing as he used the same story he had with the creep who had actually tried to r*pe him with lwj.

Behind him, his stalker growled—the sound so real sounding that wwx shuddered—his hand tightening around wwx’s wrists as the fingers of his other hand dragged rougher over his insides. “wy does not have a boyfriend,” he said darkly, pressing so harshly down on wwx’s prostate that he swore he saw the light. “Tell me the truth.”

“That– that is the truth!” wwx cried, shaking his head as much as he could against the rough bark of the tree. “I— they’re new! But they like me so much! If they find you doing this to me, you– you’ll be sorry!”

“You are lying,” the man spit out. “You were here to get fucked by some random stranger, like the little slut you are. Well, I suppose you’re about to get what you came here for.”

[its7505]

a dying art form

My deepest confession, buried deep below the shallows of my psyche,  far beyond anything else in the depths of my mind.

A secret hammering in my chest, ebbing away at my own confidence, trying to break the fragile glass that I hide my grimaces behind, rippling away the pseudo imperfections I have placed in front of me.

I hear the whispers in the wind taunting me with it, hear it behind any cheesy love song’s melody, a beat like my own heart. I hear it in the lulls between every word I say, in the quiet of the night where my thoughts are left alone, rampant, with an almost insane direction to it, eating away at every other thought. I hear it with the smell of old parchment, the burning wood of a campfire, and the scent of vanilla with a hint of jasmine. Or perhaps I have learnt to always hear it at this point, as even as it pains me, destroys me as if my heart was being ripped from my chest, it is still my favourite melody, because it reminds me of you.

And every time I do, I picture that spring day, the morning dew around us cascading down from one blade of grass to the next. The buds of life represent rebirth after death, the healing after winter's cold touch. 

The sun was just beginning to rise from the depths of the unknown, the colours dancing high above anything we could ever imagine, the darkness slowly receding from its touch. Yet even with the unmistakable beauty around us, the only thing I could ever stare at was you, it was always you.

It was slow at first, I didn’t think I could love anything or I deserved to be loved by anything, but you were not anything, you were everything, a difference between two words that meant the exact same thing, but you taught me that they were nothing alike.

The first time I laid my eyes on yours, I couldn’t stop, something clicked far beyond my understanding and suddenly everything just made sense. 

I fell slowly, not all at once, first it was the music of your laugh, then the complexities of your mind. Then the silence that you allowed me to have when everything else became too loud, the only sign that anything else existed was your fingers entwined with mine. I fell in love with every little part of you, your eyes and your hands, the way your expression would soften  when you saw me or the smile that I swear could break me in two if you allowed it.

My heart beat to the rhythm of yours and when it all fell apart it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Our paths diverged one day, something broke between the two of us, that neither of us could ever fully repair, an innocence perhaps or the naive thoughts of a forever when no such thing existed.

Trying to push together two pieces of a whole. That should have fit perfectly, but existence likes taunting us, tangling the notion of infinity, but giving it to two broken souls. The gods' toys, their source of entertainment. A tragedy, an unfinished piece of work. Of two mortal beings, who will never learn that their love can never be immortal.

Yet my deepest confession, buried deep below my psyche, far beyond anything else in the depths of my mind. Is that my heart beats to the same drum it always has, feels the same ache since the day I really learnt how to live. 

I love you.

[phantomspiderr]

Haunting Past

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You didn’t even think about the fact horror movies might trigger painful memories for Bucky

Warnings: sad!bucky:((, mentions of Bucky being triggered, mentions of death and murder

(not my gif)

“Haha very funny Derek,” the blonde bombshell on the screen slowly creeps through the dark cabin, flashlight in hand as the old wood floors creak with each step, “okay Derek stop it!”

The blonde approaches another door, having already checked every other room for her m.i.a boyfriend. The second she swings the door open a body falls out, knocking her to the ground. It only takes a moment before she shrieks, struggling to get the lifeless weight off her body. She keeps screaming as she backs away before sprinting to the telephone but just as she reaches the phone loud eerie knocking comes from the front door. The woman freezes with the phone halfway to her ear, the faint beeping sounding out the speaker.

The knocking stops and the blonde stands frozen, body trembling as she stares at the front door. Then the door bursts open and she shrieks again as she sees a big shadowy figure in the dark doorway, the outline of a knife in their hand.

You’d jumped when the door got kicked in, pieces of popcorn flying out of the bowl in your lap. The metal arm around your shoulders tightens and you can see Bucky shifting in his seat out the corner of your eye.

Wanda’s sat across the room with her hands over her eyes as Natasha tries to comfort her. Tony’s laughing at the insanely predictable horror, Sam’s joining in with his own commentary about the movie. Who thought an Avengers Halloween horror movie marathon would be great? It’s only movie one and you’re thinking about jumping in Bucky’s lap and hiding your face in his neck.

The blonde on-screen is running around trying to hide from the terrifying murderer stalking her. She’s hiding in a closet, breathing heavily with her shaking hands clamped over her mouth. There’s a silence, heavy footsteps have disappeared and so she slowly moves her head to look through the small crack between the doors. The screen shows nothing in the room and the woman takes a shaky breath before leaning her head back against the wall. It’s only a few more seconds of dead silence before an arm breaks through the wall, right next to her head. Again she takes off screaming and running like a headless chicken.

The arm breaking through the wall made quite a few of you jump, even Steve clutched his chest in fear. Just seconds after that scene Bucky hastily gets up from beside you and storms out of the room. He knocks your shoulder a little in his quick escape and everyone watches him retreating out of the room.

“Horror movies too scary for the Winter Soldier?” Tony taunts only after Bucky has left the room completely. In unison both you and Steve throw a pillow at the billionaire, giving him a stern look when he looks at you both in shock.

Silently you hand off your bowl of popcorn to Steve and follow after your boyfriend. The movie and your group of friends are long forgotten as you search the halls for the super-soldier. Finally, you end up at his bedroom door, softly you knock a few times before opening the door a crack, just enough to stick your head into the room.

“Buck?” You quietly call into the air, you finally see him hunched over on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. Slowly you slip fully into the room, closing the door behind you. As you approach him you see his shoulders shaking slightly and you hear a quiet cry.

Immediately you hurry toward him, you say his name again as you kneel in front of him, your hands brushing down his forearms.

“What happened honey?” You keep your voice quiet, scared you might startle him. Bucky sniffles before he removes his hands, revealing wet cheeks and red, bloodshot eyes. “Oh baby,” you feel as though someone is squeezing your heart, it hurts to see the way he looks so sad and broken.

You stretch up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into your embrace. Straight away Bucky buries his face into your neck and another broken sob vibrates against your skin. His arms go around your waist and you both awkwardly hold each other until Bucky’s crying stops. Quiet sniffles echo around the room before you speak again, “you okay?”

One of your hands rubs the back of his neck, gently your nails scratch along the surface as you wait for a reply.

“It’s okay, my love. You’re safe with me.”

His head lifts and he removes his hands from your waist to aggressively wipe the tears off of his face. Your hands fall from his shoulders to rest on his thighs and you comfortingly run your hands against the thick muscle.

“I-I thought I could handle it.” His voice is gruff and low, he sniffles again when your hands gently replace his, soothing the puffy skin under his eyes. “I wanted to do it because you were so excited about watching movies with the team and I just thought I could do it,” his eyes finally look up at yours and you can see the pain that lies behind them. He sounds like a broken child who’s trying to justify to their parent why they’re upset.

“I didn’t want to let you down. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your night,” his sad eyes fall back down toward his lap where his hands lay and you feel that squeeze on your heart again like someone’s trying to rip it out.

“Baby, you haven’t let me down, not in the slightest.” Your hands smooth over his face as you tilt it back up in an attempt to get him to look at you again. You shuffle as close as you can, slipping between his legs so he has no choice but to look at you.

“I just thought I could get through some stupid movies without it triggering anything,” finally you start to understand what this was all about, “these flashbacks just started and I can’t turn them off.”

Bucky starts to visibly get upset again, his waterline gathering more tears and you even capture his lip quivering a little. Not many people have ever seen Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, in quite an upset state. But he almost feels comfortable, or as comfortable as he can be, being like this in front of you.

“You never have to do anything just because I want to, Buck. You gotta take care of yourself.” You keep your voice even despite the bubble that forms in your throat as another tear rolls down his cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how something like that could trigger you.” Your hands smooth back all the loose strands of hair sticking to his face.

“I just want to make you happy,” it’s almost a whisper when he speaks.

“I’m happy when you’re happy, bub. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just to make me happy,” his eyes finally return to look into yours. His bottom lip sticks out and you hold back a smile because it looks so damn adorable. You can’t help but place a chaste kiss on his lips and when you pull away there’s a faint smile there.

“What d’you say I convince everyone to put on Hocus Pocus?” You tuck his hair behind his ears in an attempt to keep it out of his face, “we’ve watched that one before so you know what happens, would that be okay?”

Just as he opens his mouth to speak again, you interrupt him, “or we can stay up here and cuddle or something.”

A small smile forms on his teary face and he leans forward to capture your lips with his own again.

“I think forcing Sam and Tony to watch Hocus Pocus could be fun,” your lips curve into a smile. Your hands on either side of his head pull him close and you can’t help but kiss him again.

“Do you need a minute before we go back down?” Your thumbs graze against the faint stubble coating his jawline and he sniffles once again before nodding. “Okay, I’ll wait right outside for you.”

You press your lips to his again before placing your hands on his thighs and hoisting yourself up. As you go to turn to exit the room Bucky catches your wrist in his hand. Immediately you turn back to him, thinking he’s changed his mind and preparing yourself to jump straight into the bed to cuddle with him.

“Thank you,” Bucky holds eye contact with you for a moment before dropping to watch his hand slip into yours and give it a little squeeze, “I love you.”

You return the squeeze to his hand with a bright smile, “I love you.” Ducking your head you place a soft kiss on the back of his hand before slipping out of his grasp and walking to the door, “to the moon.” You call and just before you exit the room you hear his happy reply.

“And stars.”

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. 

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series. 

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon. 

01 | 02 

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set. 

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously. 

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it. 

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does. 

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world. 

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed. 

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes. 

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather. 

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.” 

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.  

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth. 

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing. 

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.  

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch. 

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?  

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.  

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off,  huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.  

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.  

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you. 

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts. 

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door. 

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.    

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different. 

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them. 

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least. 

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.  

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done. 

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much. 

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.  

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,”  he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.  

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.  

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative. 

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing,  “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day. 

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you! 

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,”  he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small  “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips.  He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant. 

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.  

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.  

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”  

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?  

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.  

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left. 

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement. 

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”  

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids. 

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting. 

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath. 

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”  

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing. 

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk:  stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”,  and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”  

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far. 

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all.  part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

[wherethewordsare]

I am once again hitting up your ask box to ask for fic

Can i pwease get selkie jask🥺👉👈

Cheese... As always, sorry this took a fucking age? I hope you like it? And just in time for Monster March!!! <3 <3 <3 

There had always been something about Jaskier that set Geralt on edge. But not in the way that he was used to. The way he would smile so easily even when Geralt was gruff and unrelenting left him disarmed and at ease. But it was also the way that there were nights when the moon was high and Jaskier couldn’t seem to find sleep that Geralt’s medallion seemed to buzz with a low but urgent hum. Those nights the smell of brine and sun and sawgrass was nearly chokingly strong, rolling off of Jaskier in waves stronger than a riptide. 

Magic. What kind, Geralt could never figure out. There had been something about the way Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve that made it feel like there was so little the bard would actually hide from him, but this one thing. Maybe there was siren blood in him after all, maybe it was fae? But no matter what it was, Geralt wasn’t about to send Jaskier away for something he couldn’t definitively prove. And even if he could, would he?

They were near Oxenfurt, summer coming to an end and Geralt watched with interest as every so often, Jaskier’s head would pop up from where he sat around their campfire, looking westward. The way he tilted his chin as though someone had called his name. 

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked. He kept his tone light, his own eyes following Jaskier’s gaze west. 

“Hmm,” was all he got, Jaskier not turning to look at him, his eyes focused on the line of trees across from him. It took him by surprise, their sudden unexpected role reversal. He chuckled. 

“Jask!” Geralt set down the armor he was cleaning, waving a cloth in front of Jaskier’s face. 

“Ah! Right, sorry. Got lost in thought for a moment,” he turned to look at Geralt, his eyes still glazed over with that lost look. “You know, my home isn’t too far from here.” 

“Oxenfurt is just a day’s ride. Have someone waiting for you?” Geralt teased but the idea of Jaskier having someone that could pull him away from the path they traveled together made his tone more accusatory than he had intended. 

“No, not…” Jaskier’s eyes wandered back west again as he fidgeted. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips as if he was ready to say something. 

Geralt’s medallion gave a soft hum where it rested against his skin, warmer than it had been. There was nothing here to fight, only Jaskier, face flushed from sitting too close to the fire, his white linen shirt clinging to him slightly in the late summer heat. The nights wouldn’t be cool for another few weeks and they wouldn’t part for a few weeks after that if the snows held off. Or maybe. 

Whatever it was that Jaskier wasn’t saying hung between them in the slight vibration of low magic and crickets. 

“Come with me to the coast? There’s something I need to take care of,” Jaskier was suddenly on his feet, striding with unsure steps to his bedroll, his hands wringing in front of him. The magic stopped and Geralt watched as Jaskier turned his back on where he had been watching. He could see it for what it was, an offer to an answer of a question neither of them had been brave enough to ask. Not yet. 

“Could be some contracts that way,” Geralt mused, reaching for his sword to clean next. 

If he hadn’t been a witcher, if his sight hadn’t been so keen and had he not been already so attuned to Jaskier, he might have missed it. They had been traveling together for what must have been well over a decade now, and never once had Geralt seen Jaskier pull away from him not even remotely. In the fading daylight, it was hard to miss now. The moment Geralt wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, Jaskier had flinched away. 

He made no comment, only letting the sword rest back against the log as he changed tactics, reaching instead for another piece of his armor to clean. He couldn’t seem to catch Jaskier’s eyes as the bard finally settled down into his bedroll, turning over so his back was to Geralt. 

There had always been something about Jaskier that had put Geralt on edge, the smell of sea salt and warm sand and kelp that always surfaced, even with all the oils and perfumes he would soak himself in. A kind of worry gripped him, a beginning of an end to the unsaid things between them. Geralt waited patiently for him to drift off, keeping an ear open for the steady even breaths that came when Jaskier slept. Only then did he reach for his swords to clean them.

Silently he prayed to whatever deity would hear him that he would not find reasons to draw them when they reached the coast. 

--

It had been an easy kind of journey, a day to Oxenfurt then another few days to the coast proper. Once they had left the last village behind, Jaskier led the way, keeping always a few strides out front, his fingers nervously tweaking out half conscience tunes on his lute, barely paying attention to anything other than moving onward. Geralt found that there were moments of unending chatter and then complete silence. 

The last night that they camped, the trees had become pine and the grass was rough under Geralt’s hands as he gathered wood for the fire. Jaskier sat quietly by his bedroll, his eyes brighter than they had been in what felt like weeks. He moved his jaw every now and again as though he was trying to find the words to say but the most Geralt could get out of him was broken off sentences and hesitant glances. 

“Do you always kill the monsters?” He asked finally, setting aside his quill and lacing his fingers together in front of him, thumbs twirling anxiously.

“Only the dangerous ones,” Geralt said quietly. He had made sure not to reach for his swords in front of Jaskier since that night he had asked to go to the coast, afraid that the answers would slide away like the tide. 

“Oh, and how do you know when they’re not dangerous?” It had been a conversation they had had before, but then Jaskier had been less pensive, more chatty, taking notes for his ballads. Now his eyes barely looked up from the fire. 

Above them, the moon hung heavy and full, silver catching in Jaskier’s dark hair and casting his features into ethereal shadows where the firelight did not quite reach. Geralt risked moving a little closer, using the poking the fire as pretense before sitting beside Jaskier. 

“What are we doing here, Jaskier?” He wasn’t accusatory or flippant. There had been answers that he needed and he wasn’t sure what the right ones would be. 

Jaskier sat very still, his tongue darting out for a moment. “You know I trust you?” 

It wasn’t what Geralt had been expecting. Hell, it wasn’t something he had even really knew needed saying, not out loud. But they sat there, the words hanging between them like a door that would either be thrown wide open or slammed shut and locked forever. 

Jaskier chuckled, looking away. “I… Can you trust me, Geralt?” He looked over then, his eyes seeming endlessly blue just then, and so full of something that tugged at Geralt’s chest. He only nodded and let the night slip into an easy quiet between them. 

“Fall isn’t too far off at this point. It will be winter before you know it.” It felt so off-balance, Geralt being the one to keep breaking the silence between them. “Unless you have an engagement in Oxenfurt already lined up, I was wondering if you might-” 

Jaskier made a choking sound, his head whipping around to look at Geralt. “Wait!” There was panic in his voice as his hands came up as if to protect himself. 

It wasn’t hard to scent in the air, the sharp sting of fear and anxiety, Jaskier’s heart hammering behind his ribs. His eyes looked wild and it took Geralt a moment not to pull back himself. 

“Wait,” Jaskier took a shaky breath, swallowing. “There’s… Before you ask anything of me, let’s get down to the beach tomorrow. And then-” He looked down, pulling his hands towards his chest. The fear was gone but the anxiety only seemed to grow. It spelled of kelp in the sun and cold oceans in a storm. “Then you can decide if you still want to ask.” 

“Jaskier-” 

“Not here, witcher. Let me get to the shore first?” It wasn’t uncommon for Jaskier to ask things of Geralt but it was rare that they felt this important, this urgent. 

The sound of the fire and the crickets and the ocean far down the hill were the only sounds between them after that. Jaskier after a time made a murmured good night and slipped into his bedroll without another word. Geralt tried to ignore the sharp scent of salt that came from him, different than the ocean, deeper, tinged in everything that made up Jaskier. He doubted either of them slept much that night. 

--

Geralt must have drifted off at some point, however. When he woke up early, the sun was barely up, the fire had banked itself overnight and he was alone save for Roach who grazed in the hazy morning light. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, bolting upright and turning. 

“Let me get to the shore first,” he had asked. 

He debated with himself for a moment before deciding that he would leave his swords behind him, though Geralt couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the dagger in his boot behind as well. He moved down towards the beach, following the path through the thinning trees. 

Something was off the moment he stepped out past the first dune. There in the sand, clothes trailed down to the water, Jaskier’s boots kicked off just at the bottom of the first outcropping of rock. Down the beach, a wall of stone rose above the breakers. It would no doubt have a system of caves throughout it. The last of Jaskier’s things seemed to lead that way.

Geralt followed, wishing that he had in fact brought his swords. His medallion hummed then vibrated, shaking against his chest violently as something broke above the waves just to his right. 

A smooth head and wide eyes tilted towards him in the early morning light. The sky above the ocean still dark, the last stars slipping over the far horizon with the last sliver of the moon. The thing in the water moved up to the beach, a large slick body, flippers pushing into the wet sand. 

It gave a kind of greeting, nodding at Geralt as it rested in the sand. 

He hadn’t seen one in so long, Geralt almost didn’t recognize it as a Harbor seal, it’s pelt dark around its face, fading into a spotted silver coat. He didn’t move, let alone breathe as they watched each other for a long moment. 

 When the seal began to push up its body contorting unnaturally, Geralt took a step back, automatically reaching for the knife in his boot. Dark eyes watched him and seemed… disappointed suddenly as the body of the seal continued to convulse and shift. 

The sun broke above the trees and caught the creature in the face and those eyes suddenly shimmered a bright blue. He couldn’t throw his knife down fast enough as the hood of a cloak fell back from Jaskier’s face, sullen and terrified. 

“Well, was worth a shot,” Jaskier gave a wet laugh, pulling his cloak tighter around him. 

“You’re a selkie.” Geralt said flatly, his hands coming up to show he had no weapons. “I thought you were a viscount.” 

To his surprise, Jaskier snorted, the tension in his shoulders relaxing some as shuffled his feet in the sand. 

“I am in fact a viscount and a selkie, on my mother’s side,” he winced. “My father keeps her cloak from her. I just barely managed to-” he swallowed looking down. “Listen, Geralt, I know you plan on going back to Kaer Morhen this winter, and even if you-” he huffed, his hand shooting out from his cloak to rub at the back of his head. 

“You need somewhere to hide your cloak.” a decade of unasked questions started to click into place.

“Yes,” Jaskier sighed. “But you don’t have to-”

“And you trust me? A witcher? Jaskier, if something happened to your cloak you-” would be stuck, would die, would never be free again. He left everything to blow away out to sea in the wind. 

“I do, I trust you as a man, Geralt. I know what I’m asking,” his eyes were sad and suddenly infinitely vast. 

The wind tugged the hem of Jaskier’s cloak, the silvery ends snapping in tune with the crash of the waves. Geralt could see the top of his one thigh peeking between the slick material and suddenly he was far too aware that Jaskier was standing naked in more ways than one on a beach telling Geralt he trusted him with his life. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a steadying breath. “Get dressed bard.” This level of vulnerability left him feeling dizzy with a feeling he wasn’t ready to look at just then. 

Before going to collect his clothes, Jaskier closed the distance between them, sliding his cloak from his shoulders, the fabric shimmering in the sunlight as he folded it carefully and rested it over Geralt’s arm. 

“Hold this for me?” he asked softly, not meeting Geralt’s eyes. “Keep it safe?” 

There was no hesitation in him as Geralt nodded, laying a careful hand over Jaskier’s, still on the cloak. “Always.”

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[drvrslcense]

devils roll the dice (angels roll their eyes)

Masterlist | Taglist | Wattpad | Instagram | ao3

+ send your requests!

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of athena! reader

summary: you and leo are dared to skinny dip, what happens if your friends run away with your clothes?

warnings: skinny dipping (a bit of nudity), a few curses, mentions of sex (but not really?) - let me know if you see other ones!

notes: request; this takes place years after the events of hoo (toa never happened)

read this fic in ao3!

Leo Valdez is seriously annoying.

The way he smiles as if everything’s okay and his anger is not something you’re feeling like waves hitting you over and over - it’s just annoying. Why can’t he just get it over with and explode in front of you, use his fire powers and all?

With a scoff, you shook your head, averting your gaze from the curly-haired boy to the campfire in front of you.

Truthfully, this event was supposed to be just the seven - Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Frank, Hazel, and Leo. Percy invited you to enjoy this night with his friends. He found you earlier by this beach, kicking sand, and muttering how much Leo Valdez just pissed you off. And he just had the audacity to invite you to an event, saying Leo won’t be here. But here he is - grinning as he was roasting a marshmallow over the fire.

“So, Leo,” Percy turned to Leo. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he grinned.

You saw Percy look at you, smiling, like a monkey who finally grabbed the banana from the tree. "Go skinny dipping with Y/N."

"What!?" I'm sorry, but were you just dragged into something that doesn't even include you? "No. I'm not skinny dipping, especially not with him."

"Wow," Leo said, standing up. "Way to hurt my feelings, Y/N."

"Like you have one," you rolled your eyes.

"So, are you doing this or not?" Leo questioned you, already raising an arm to remove his shirt.

"No, I'm not," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Your loss," Leo shrugged, shirtless. Your eyes scanned over his body. Realizing what you were doing, you averted your gaze from him into the campfire. "Like what you were seeing?"

You can just feel him smirking across from you. "It's not even my dare, how do I lose?"

"It's a dare and you're involved so get on with it," Percy waved his hand dismissively, smiling mischievously as he took a sip of his blue coke.

"Do they really have to be naked?" Thank the Gods for your sister, Annabeth.

"Yeah," Jason echoed. "We're all going to be scarred forever when Leo goes buck naked."

"Fine," Percy sighed in defeat. "You can keep your underwear."

They all looked at Leo expectantly, who raised his hands up. "Oh no, I'm not doing it if Y/N won't."

"It's your dare, Valdez."

"Yeah, and?"

"It's not mine."

"But Percy said I have to do it with you."

"Ugh," you huffed, standing up to remove your clothing. "I hate you."

"Well, I don't exactly like you either," Leo quipped, unbuckling his pants.

You turned around, raising your arms over your head as you removed your shirt, revealing your balconette bikini top in Victorian blue. The matching bikini was a gift from Piper on your birthday last September. This is only the first time you wore this, but under a white cropped top and denim jeans, thinking you won't have to swim as it is mid-winter in New York.

Unfortunately, Percy is a pain in the ass and dared Leo to go skinny dipping with you.

Annabeth handed you a beach towel you wrapped yourself in. Despite the camp's borders protecting you from extreme weather, the air was still chilly, and it sent a shiver down your spine as it hit you.

You turned around and saw that Leo had the matching blue and floral printed towel wrapped around his waist. "Let's just get this over with."

You walked over towards the edge where the waves meet the sun, leaving Leo to catch up to you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You just don't think," is what you answered as you threw your towel somewhere behind you, diving into the open beach and swimming as far as you can.

As soon as the cold catches up to you, you stand up; the water reaching your chin. You saw Leo standing still at the edge, looking stunned. "What are you waiting for, you elf?"

Leo only shook his head and followed you. You waited a few moments, looking around the vast ocean, with chattering teeth and ragged breaths. In mid-December, the water current felt like icicles hitting your body over and over in different places. You couldn’t wait to get back out on the shore and sit by the fire for warmth.

You feel something tug at your ankle, pulling you deeper. As you struggled to stay afloat, you kicked whatever it was, deciding ultimately more on your own survival than the welfare of some random sea creature. But it wasn't a random sea creature. Instead, it was Leo, holding a bloody nose as he surfaced beside.

"Fuck you, Y/N," he held his nose, ducking his head a few times to stop the bleeding.

"That's what you get," you shrugged, waving your arms to keep yourself afloat.

"Ugh," Leo groaned. "CAN WE GO BACK NOW?"

"Geez," you covered your ears. "You didn't have to yell that loud."

"YES," you heard Percy yell back, his voice like waves echoing throughout the ocean.

You looked at the campfire, only that it was like a dot of orange in the distance. Your friends were like moving shadows in the distance, dimly lit by the moonlight.

"Come on," Leo started swimming back towards the shore once his nose had slowed down its bleeding. You followed him, careful not to swim too fast and make your head squeeze tighter than it already was. As you surfaced on the edge, you saw Leo yell and tried to run after Percy, who was holding your clothes. “Hey! Get back here.”

Instead of answering, Percy just laughed and ran away towards the parking lot. Leo chased after him.

You stood up, shivering as the chilly air hit you, grabbing your towel and wrapping yourself with it. Instead of running after Leo, you took a seat in front of the fire, with your arm reached out and dangerously close to the flames. Who could blame you for wanting to feel some warmth?

“You could get burned,” Leo commented, making you look at him in surprise. You thought he was with Percy grabbing his clothes, but there he stood, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. Your eyes dangerously drift down towards his collarbone, but you shook your head, focusing your gaze on the dancing flames in front of you.

“At least I could be warm,” is what you told him as your fingers still dance dangerously close to the flames.

“Here,” Leo offered you a hand, and you stared as if it was the most disgusting thing you ever saw. To be honest, it wasn’t disgusting. You noticed his fingers were long and slender and smooth - no calluses in sight. It must be a benefit from producing flames.

“What do I do with it?”

“Hold it.”

“No.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged, taking a seat across from you.

“So, where’s Percy?” You asked him.

“Gone,” he sighed, running his fingers through his curls. “They said we should work everything out and they’ll come to fetch us in the morning.”

Unbelievable. Still, what they had done didn't surprise you. It was like them to do something like this, you should have seen it coming. Instead, the temptation for a good time blinded you.

“Go on,” you told him. “Yell at me.”

“What?” Leo said in disbelief. “What do you want me to yell at you?”

“I don’t know,” you told him, shrugging. “What were you saying about me after we met?”

“I wasn’t saying anything about you,” Leo answered defensively.

“You so were,” you rolled your eyes.

“Really?” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms. “What was I saying then?”

“That I was rude,” you answered him, sitting up straight.

“That’s true,” Leo agreed. “You were rude. And you are being rude now.”

“Well, excuse me if I was being rude,” You laughed humorlessly. “I was busy and stressed that day. I was being chased by monsters all day until Grover and Percy found me, and I was tired."

“But that doesn’t excuse you from being such a jerk at camp,” Leo argued.

“Sorry I wasn’t feeling bright and cheery as you,” you retorted. “Gosh, you were annoying.”

“You think I was annoying?” Leo asked, offended.

“You were!” You stood up, clenching the towel that was wrapped around you. “You came in all Mr. Smiley Pants, greeting me with a cheer, and then you introduced yourself and told me your life story when I’m exhausted. Gods, Leo, I just wanted to rest that day.”

“But you didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Leo stood up too, walking to stand in front of you. If he thought he was towering over you, he was not. He was only a few inches above you, not even intimidating you with his height.

“What’s rude about ‘stop, I want to rest’ when you were all there smiling and I was a bleeding mess with monster cuts on my arms?” You fumed. “Not to mention, you were telling me that time you and your beloved Festus had to stop at a gas station.”

“And what’s wrong about that?” Leo raised his arms in frustration. “Festus was hungry, and I was out of Tabasco, so we had to take a quick stop at the nearest gas station for some motor oil.”

“Okay, you were out of Tabasco sauce,” You raised your free hand in surrender. “But is that necessary for a girl to hear when she’s bleeding out?”

“Oh, would you want me to tell you the story of how my parents conceived me?” Leo retorted. “Because I’ll gladly tell you! My mommy and my daddy-.”

“I want you to stop!” You yelled at him, getting so dangerously close to his face. Leo seriously frustrated you to no end. He can’t just keep his mouth shut. “I want you to stop talking for a long time. Maybe then, I could work everything out by myself and leave you here.”

“And what?” Leo taunted. “Face the woods alone? Ooh, too bad, Y/N, you could get killed.”

“I’ll gladly take that chance,” you said through gritted teeth. “Than be here with you.”

“Wow,” Leo feigned hurt, putting a hand above his heart. “Another girl who’d rather be killed than be with me. Only this time, I didn’t ask her out.”

“What, do you want me to ask you out?” The words that rolled out of your mouth surprised you more than they did to Leo, who looked at you with wide eyes. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, unable to think of anything to follow up on your previous statement.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you actually like me,” Leo said slowly, a lopsided grin forming on his face as he crossed his arms.

“Please,” you shivered as a strong chilly wind came, knocking you off of your stern demeanor. Leo grinned at this, knowing he had the upper hand in the situation as he didn’t once shiver from the cold. “You don’t know any better than a coked-up 2-year-old.”

“Oh, really?” Leo’s eyebrow shot up as if what you said was a challenge to him. “I know you’re cold right now.”

“Of course, it’s mid-December,” You threw your free hand in the air, turning back around to sit in front of the fire again. All this arguing with Leo has put you away from the campfire and near to the ocean, as you could feel the cold rushing winds more than the warmth of the fire. “It should be cold.”

“Way to point that out, you genius,” Leo followed you as you sat, taking a seat beside you. It was far enough so that your hands wouldn’t reach him in case you wanted to strangle him, but near enough in case you burned your hand and he had to help you.

You were still shivering even as you sat in silence in front of the fire. Leo was probably not helping the case as he kept getting awed by his own breath forming smoke in front of him.

“Could you please stop?” You said through shaky breaths.

“Here, take my hand,” Leo once again offered his hand. “Come on, I won’t bite. Can’t you feel the warmth radiating off of me?”

Out of options for warmth, you hesitantly reached out, your hand hovering above his, trying to feel any sort of warmth. Then you felt it. That rush of slight heat entered your skin and buried itself there. It felt much like holding a warm cup on a chilly day,

You took his hand, gripping it just to feel any warmth. It must have been a pretty uncomfortable position as both of your hands were stretched out, but you didn’t care as you could feel something other than the cold air around you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying so hard not to think about the fact that you were mad at him earlier and now you were holding his hand for warmth. You felt him scoot a little closer to you, as he pulled your hand a bit and felt him shift. You opened your eyes and narrowed it at him. “Sorry, my hand’s getting sore.” You sighed and just let him sit closer than the two of you intended.

You didn’t know how, but you didn’t fight the feeling of wanting to feel more warmth as you scooted closer to him - dangerously close, almost shoulder to shoulder. You let out a sigh as the warmth coming from him intensified a bit, as you laid your head above his shoulder. You didn't know why, but he didn’t make a move to push you away, not even a bit as he relaxed and laid his head on top of yours.

“Pipes, quick, grab a camera,” you heard Percy loudly whisper. It must have been morning as you hear birds chirping instead of crickets. The harsh sunlight met your hazel eyes as you opened them, making you immediately squint.

You heard a flash go off, and Piper’s voice rang out. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”

“Whoever’s there should just get away,” you grumbled, snuggling against what’s beside you. Despite the harsh sunlight, your eyes flung open and quickly stood up, making your head spin, as you realized what - or who, for the matter - you’re snuggling. You stumbled as you clutched your head in dizziness.

“Careful there,” Jason gripped your arm, steadying you.

“What,” Leo groggily said, just waking up. “What happened?”

“We fell asleep, you idiot,” You threw a flip-flop at him. “It’s morning.”

“Oh,” Leo rubbed the spot where you hit him. “Oh, hey, guys.”

“Hey,” Percy greeted him with a smile. “Looks like you had quite a night, huh?”

“More like it,” Leo lazily smiled at you through squinting eyes.

Despite everything in you screaming to deny everything, you smiled at him. “Yeah. It was nice.”

[writingsfromhome]

Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

-----

I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

[maddiewritesstucky]

Snare Me His Shadow

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.5k

Tags: Primal Play, Prey/Predator Kink, Fighting As Foreplay, Rough Sex, Biting, Choking, Dom/Sub Undertones, Come Swapping, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Fucking Outdoors, Storm Sex, Poetry As An Aphrodisiac, R18 Hide And Seek

So a million years ago, @howdoyousleep3 passed on an ask from her inbox that read:

[I dont know if you’re familiar with primal play, but it’s so fucking hot. Yeah, I know, Steve is all muscle and ability, he’s strong he’s fast, he’s smart, he is not prey. Usually. But Bucky - the winter soldier - is a hunter. The best, in fact. He loves a good hunt]

...This one possessed me. Please heed the tags, this is an entirely consensual and agreed-upon game between Steve and Bucky, but it is very much a hunter/prey type situation 😈

It’s electric, like this.

Barefoot on the damp earth, navigating by muscle memory more than sight, because darkness settles that much denser beneath the tree canopy.

Steve could move faster, could take this barely-worn path through the woods behind the compound at a sprint. But fast is loud. 

Fast is leaves cracking and branches splintering, and the muted thud of footfalls on the forest floor. It’s eyes fixed only ahead so you don’t stumble, and nothing but the sound of your own exhales in your ears.

‘Fast’ gets you caught. 

The in-rolling storm crackles humid in the air, sparking against Steve’s skin as he weaves through the underbrush. He throws his every sense outwards, searching and sifting through those faint currents of movement around him, those quiet signs of life. But it’s all life out here; birds and insects and creatures who can’t bear the light, all just playing the same game he is, and every last one of them pricks at his awareness. 

Every last one of them kicks at his pulse and drip-feeds new adrenaline into his bloodstream, because experience echoes a warning way down in his cells - the apex predator comes silent as a spider. 

There’s so many eyes on him, the weight of being watched pressing down on him from all sides. He digs the heel of his hand into his arousal and pulls in a lungful of air on the cusp of rain; feels himself splintering between his warring desires to put up a worthy chase, and to drop down belly-up in the dirt.

It’s a choice that will be made for him, eventually. 

He might be strength, and speed, and strategy. But out here, he is prey. 

Out here, in these weeping woods that stretch endless into the night, Steve is achingly, exquisitely outmatched by the hunter who lies in wait; biding his time, unseen, and slipping ever closer. 

Dressed in black from head to toe, or skin bared to the shivering pulses of the forest; empty handed, or palms laden with the urge to grab and pin and possess…

The Winter Soldier is out there, and Steve’s blood runs so much hotter for the knowledge that he won’t see or hear or feel him coming until it’s too late. 

He winds his way amongst the weathered trunks, hugging the shadows and pawing at the lines of his own body; stroking his thighs and pulling at his nipples, raking fingernails over the bare skin of his stomach. It’s rough and absent and frantic all at once, a weak precursor to what he’s evading.

The dissonance of it is dizzying, hiding from the thing he wants most. He wants to cry out, to make for the clearing in the middle of the woods and sprawl shameless in the open until he’s found, but he knows the rules - run, hide, don’t make it easy.

Pursuit is the purpose, and capture is a pleasure that must be earned, no matter how raw his skin is screaming for touch. And it is screaming - he’s a copper wire stripped bare, and he shivers for every stinging snap of branch and damp drag of leaf against his body as he picks his way through the darkness. 

Hard limits apply, he’d told Bucky, the rest is up to you. 

He shudders for it now, those words and the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened for them; the way he’d leaned in to kiss his sugar-laced threat right onto Steve’s waiting lips - I will find you.

It’s only a matter of time. The forest is vast, and countless months have passed since they last played this game, but Bucky is a blade that never dulls. 

Bucky is razor-sharp, in wit, beauty, and battle; made up of midnight and silent strides when he so chooses, and he will find Steve. 

He might have had eyes on Steve this entire time; ten soundless steps behind, watching Steve’s slow descent into desperation with a smile on his face, and the mere possibility has Steve’s cock weeping through the thin fabric of his shorts. 

His fingertips dip beneath his waistband and sweep through the wetness beading at his tip; stroke that sensitive spot just beneath the head. His palm slips to press at the heavy throb in his balls and it makes his breath catch too loud in the confines of his chest, has a moan slipping out past his gritted teeth. 

He knows it’s foolish, knows he’s only making himself easier to track. But every step he takes is winding the hunt toward its inevitable climax, and intellect is giving way to instinct. 

His consciousness is beginning that steady downward drip, sinking from logic and reason to settle and swim with the dense heat pooling at the base of his spine. Soon, he’ll be nothing more than the urge rippling under his skin, the tight-squeezed air in his lungs and the thrum of blood between his thighs, and every brush of his own hands is permission to slip a little further to it. 

So he doesn’t stop. 

His feet and his fingers keep moving; his body acting now on his mind’s behalf to draw towards the river's edge, where his desperate sounds will be swept away by the unending rush of water over rock, because this is about preservation now.

It’s about surviving the voracity of his own need until he is found, until Bucky catches him, and then…god, then...

The rest is up to you.

The beginning of rainfall winds its way down through the tree canopy, and it does nothing to quell the heat radiating off Steve. He’s burning so hot for this, so hungry for it; his need only growing sharper as the atmosphere curls in thick and charged with the promise of thunder. 

It’s rumbling in the distance already, too faint for non-enhanced ears but creeping closer; a rolling bass beneath the surge of the fast flowing river up ahead. He can see the diluted black of open space through the trees now, can hear the clack of wet-tumbling stones, and it’s nothing short of delusion, the way it feels like he’s headed for sanctuary. 

Logic knows it’s a weak veil of auditory cover at best, and an outright plea for ambush at worst.

Steve knows, down in his gut, exactly which one he’s hoping for, and he sprints for it with the last of his tactical thought seeping out through the soles of his feet. 

He breaks through the tree line, hitching a gasp as he stumbles out into the full force of the downpour. It’s coming down heavy, sluicing at the fever-sweat clinging to his skin, and he tilts his face up towards it; lets his eyes drift shut and his shoulders drop as he bares his throat to the purple-black sky. 

His pulse riots for the sheer abandon of the gesture, of shifting his posture to one of invitation in the midst of evasion. It only spurs him on, makes him want to find out just how shrill that siren in his cells will wail when he refuses to curl in on himself. 

He forces his hands open at his sides, turns his palms outwards and walks further out onto the exposed riverbank. He stands ankle deep in the river with his heart in his throat, soaked to the bone and all but shaking with the desire to drop to his knees in submission.

And that’s when he hears it. 

The slow-whistled high note, followed by a low; the signal that shivers from the top of Steve’s spine to the cradle of his hips.

Found you. 

It’s a question as much as a warning, that signal; a chance for Steve to respond in their shared language of gesture whether he wants the chase, or the fight. 

As if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment they agreed to play tonight.

As if he’s not done for either way. 

He pulls in a shuddering breath, his skin prickling with the presence he can sense now off to his left. Survival instinct begs him to open his eyes, to scour his surroundings and prepare for what’s coming, but he only shuts them tighter. 

He grins up at the pelting rain, curls his quivering right hand into a fist, and beats it against his drenched, heaving chest.

Take me down where I stand. 

Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the stones underfoot. Steve’s blood beats frantic in his ears, one heartbeat stumbling over the next, and he waits, waits for the blow he doesn’t want to see coming.

A foot to the back of his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat, a strike of unyielding metal between his shoulder blades...it’s never the same twice, and it’s always better than the time before, and he can’t stop the desperate whimper that falls from his parted, rain-slick lips.

“Bucky!” he pleads, hurling it into the current of the storm raging around him.

“Steve,” comes the answer from directly behind him; the word falling across his skin in the split second before teeth sink deep into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s nothing short of wanton, the way Steve cries out with it. 

Five fingers curl a punishing grip around the column of his throat and a soaking wet body plasters against his back, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold his centre of gravity as he’s wrestled down to the riverbank.

It’s a messy takedown, raw force over skill; dripping all the same desperation that’s been twisting hot in Steve’s gut all night. Bucky pins him belly-down against the stones at the river’s edge, the full weight of his body draped over him, and Steve knows the tremor he can feel humming through Bucky’s muscles has nothing to do with the cold.

“The river,” Bucky growls; metal forearm jammed against the back of Steve's neck, “of course you came to the river.”

Steve squirms giddy beneath Bucky’s mass, beneath that deep-thrumming power crushing down on him. 

The storm-swollen current reaches up the bank to wash shallow and frigid beneath Steve’s cheek, his chest; against his nipples and his thighs and his cock inside his drenched shorts. It’s cold enough to draw gooseflesh across the bared expanse of his skin, but fuck if that persistent rush doesn’t feel like getting tongued; like every single time Bucky’s ever slipped an ice cube in his mouth and sucked him off just to see him hit the ceiling. 

“Buck...” 

It’s the only word that makes sense anymore. Steve gets his elbows under himself and pushes his body up, but only so much as to feel the stifling weight of Bucky on top of him. 

Bucky’s hand slips to the front of his throat and grips him tight up under the line of his jaw; tips his head back to get his lips and teeth pressed hard against Steve’s ear.

“Steven...did you even try?” 

The rain and the river aren’t enough to sweep away the mockery in his tone. He’s shifting himself on top of Steve, putting scant inches of space between their bodies, and Steve knows this cue; grins bright and breathless for it.

He digs his hands in against the riverbed, plants his knees and shoves upwards. He heaves his weight forward and Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to let it happen, to let Steve crawl and clamber a few meager feet forwards.

Steve knows it’s a false freedom but he laughs half-hysterical for it anyway, and even more so when Bucky’s hands are catching him again, clamping bruising tight at his hips and grappling him onto the flat of his back. 

He winces at the battering strike of rain against his face, but it’s just as soon blocked by the cover of Bucky caging him in; replaced by the tepid drips rolling off Bucky’s perpetually warm skin. 

Steve’s body reacts the way it thinks it’s supposed to, going through the motions of trying to throw Bucky off - strength funneled into a forearm arm pressing here, a knee striking there. But it’s pointless; sabotaged by the underlying truth that the only place Steve really wants to be is stuck exactly where he finds himself - pinned pliant beneath his predator.

He lets himself look, then; lets his gaze slip down between them to drag over the length of Bucky’s body. He’s bared to the elements just the same as Steve - not a stitch on him save for running shorts that barely hit at mid-thigh. His hair is pulled back, and he’s soaked to the bone, and when lightning splits the darkness in two and catches on the angles of his face, that raw perilous beauty strikes a blow all of its own to the center of Steve’s chest.

“You win,” Steve rasps, dragging his voice up from the pit of his billowing lungs.

Bucky’s answering laugh is darker than the wet-ink midnight pressing in on them, and it shudders all the way to Steve’s bones when Bucky sinks down to purr ominous against the vulnerable stretch of his neck.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

The ravenous clamp of teeth on his throat sends Steve’s body bowing, writhing for that merciless bite that doesn’t break the skin, but makes purpled ruin of what lies beneath. Fascia and blood vessels and Steve’s sanity, all broken down in the transcendent grind of Bucky’s jaw, the heat of his mouth; all over Steve’s neck and his chest and his belly, and it’s so feral, the way Steve wants it. 

He wants the shred of busted stitching and the shock of rain against newly bared skin as his shorts are torn from his body.

He wants the red welts raked down his rib cage, the kiss-split lip and the deep set imprints of Bucky’s teeth all up the insides of his thighs. 

Bucky’s touch is heavy and he means it to be; his shifting, squeezing grip claiming handfuls of Steve’s willing flesh wherever he can get it. And he can get it everywhere - every last inch of Steve’s body splayed out for him in tribute to his prowess, and Steve wants him to take it. 

He wants Bucky to make sacrilege of it out here under the split-open skies, until it feels like heaven itself is sobbing for it. 

“Fuck me,” ruin me, desecrate me, arch-backed and bleeding-lipped in the dirt, “Bucky, fuck me…” 

Steve begs with all of himself, legs split and arms thrown above his head; dripping sweat and storm and half-crazed surrender. Like he actually has to plead for this, like Bucky’s not already stuffing searching fingers up between his cheeks to grope for the base-end of silicone that says Steve’s body is primed for the taking.

Bucky bites taunting denial into his skin, over and over. ‘No,’ even as he pulls the plug from Steve’s body and replaces it with his fingers. ‘No’ growled against Steve’s body every time he begs now, and please, and I’m ready, just to fray that tenuous thread of Steve’s resolve. 

Steve’s delirious with it, crying out high and sharp for the stretch of cold metal inside him and the drip of remnant lube. He chants Bucky’s name and reaches out with clinging, clawing hands that only get batted away; that get caught at the wrists and pinned down, and Bucky’s laughing at him. 

Bucky is toying with him, leaving him empty and climbing back up over his body to graze teeth over Steve’s cheekbones, to whisper sweet mockery against Steve’s lips before he kisses them bruising-hard.

“Tell me you want it,” Bucky coos, clamping his hand over Steve’s mouth and pushing the clothed head of his cock up against Steve’s hole. 

Steve sobs against his palm. He forces the words out wet and incomprehensible onto Bucky’s skin; again and again as Bucky tuts and tells him to speak the fuck up. 

Tears are streaming free from the corners of his eyes and his legs are hooking desperately around Bucky’s waist, and he knows that Bucky wants this just as bad. He can feel Bucky shaking and shuddering under the strain of holding back and holding out, trying to push Steve closer to his breaking point just because that’s what Steve wants; devotion at its most deranged.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Bucky laps at the tears tracking down Steve’s face, letting up his hand from Steve’s mouth only to settle it heavy on his throat. 

He slips his other hand down between them to shove at his shorts, fighting the clinging fabric down far enough to get his cock free, and then they’re both groaning for the rub of naked skin on skin. 

“Buck,” Steve chokes out a half-strangled cry as Bucky sinks his whole weight onto him, dragging his stomach over Steve’s weeping cock and rocking his own into the crease of Steve’s hip. 

“Tell me you want it?” Bucky says again, a question this time instead of a taunt. 

Steve’s rasp of yes, fuck, do it barely makes it past his lips before Bucky’s cock is pushing into him.

There’s no hesitance, no pretense of patience to it. Bucky doesn’t finesse it and Steve doesn’t want him to - he didn’t spend half the night skulking through the woods in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm just to get taken the way he would be in the sanctity of their bed.

Steve came out here to get fucked vicious, and Bucky knows better than to pull his punches.

He shoves brutal and punishing into the tight heat of Steve’s body, knocking the air from Steve’s lungs and the sense from his psyche. 

He’s tucking words up against Steve’s ear, something lilting and familiar, and the roar of Steve’s own blood and the groaning sky above don’t drown out Bucky’s voice so much as darken it’s edges; slip a rumbling bass beneath it’s baritone. Steve loses himself in the well-worn rhythm long before the words catch up to sink hooks into his ribcage.

“O Hunter, snare me his shadow,” Bucky hums, “O Nightingale, catch me his strain…else moonstruck with music and madness...I track him in vain.”

Steve would weep, if he had it in him to do anything other than lay there flat on his back and take it. 

Bucky grinds in blinding-deep and stays there, rocks there; drips poetry all over the side of Steve’s neck like he’s not fucking him fit to kill.

He squeezes Steve’s throat until his eyes roll back, swats at Steve’s cheek and pulls merciless on his hair. He stuffs fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth deep enough to gag on, and hinges Steve’s jaw open so he has no choice but to set loose every raw, wrecked sound Bucky knocks out of him. 

It’s fucking flawless.

“Give me one,” Bucky growls. 

Steve needs no clarification beyond the spearing of Bucky’s cock into his prostate, and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself frantic and heavy-handed. 

It should be pitiful, how little it takes. But it’s been mounting for what feels like hours, and when Bucky wrenches himself abruptly from Steve’s body to slap a hand down square over Steve’s balls and his slick, aching asshole, that orgasm crests with near-painful force.

“Fuck!” Steve’s wracked with it, shuddering and flinching from it like it’s not the makings of his very own flesh and blood. 

Bucky doesn’t even wait for it to be over before he’s dipping down to lap at it; rubbing his cheek and his chest and his belly through Steve’s release on his slow crawl back up to spit it into Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ swallow it,” he warns, pressing his thumb to the seam of Steve’s lips, “I want it back.” 

Steve’s body is sparking chaotic, crying too soon and too much just as loud as it’s screaming too good as Bucky grips him by his sodden hair and buries his cock back inside him; falling into rhythm like he never stopped thrusting in the first place.

He wants to moan, wants to cry out for that welcome knifepoint of forced pleasure building within him, but the desperate sounds creeping onto his tongue are every bit as caged as the come he can’t swallow. 

Which is the whole point, Steve flushes submissive to realize - Bucky’s got him gagged without even touching him. 

He twines his limbs up around Bucky’s body, groping and pulling at him like there’s still an insufferable distance left to close. The guttural moans Bucky’s spilling into the crook of his neck only render Steve’s own noises even more pathetic; huffing high and reedy the longer they remain trapped in his throat. 

“Christ, listen to you...”

Bucky pushes up onto his elbows to stare down at Steve, to watch the play of desperation on his face. 

He’s no less transparent himself in how affected he is, a lifetime of ceaseless want spelled out in his gaze; hunger and rapture and the kind of adoration Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever fully earn, not really.

But it’s all right there, in the way Bucky’s looking at him; the way he’s bearing the howling force of the storm against his back just to give Steve this, and Steve is sunk.

Steve is nothing more than the sweet ruin of his body and the near painful swell of his heart for the multitudes that Bucky contains. A death sentence if you ask the history books and still the better half of Steve’s soul, Bucky is the boundless shadow and blinding light of Steve’s entire existence; his every reason for being and doing and fucking trying, after all these years. 

It would be terrifying, if Steve weren’t bone-deep certain that he’s the axis Bucky’s world spins on, too.

“You found me...” 

The words are almost a sob hitching off Steve’s tongue, pitched fuck-drunk and slurred around his mouthful of himself. 

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it; half hopes for the crack of an open palm against his cheek for it. But the look Bucky hits him with lands harder than any physical strike could hope to; taking Steve’s face firm between his hands and staring down at him like there’s never been a truth so vital, so dire.

“I will always find you, Steve.” 

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The one thing their shared existence will always narrow down to. There’s nowhere either of them could go that the other wouldn’t tear the world apart to get to, and the scant inches of distance between them right now might as well be oceans for all Steve’s burning inside to cross them. 

He cups his hands around Bucky’s neck and arches up, pulls him down; pleading with everything but words for Bucky’s mouth on his, and Bucky doesn’t make him wait. He meets Steve right there in the delirium with lips and tongue and moans that rival the swelling thunder; sucking the taste of Steve off his tongue and dripping a starved groan into his mouth in its place.

“I wanna make you come,” he says, like he hasn’t already dragged one out of him, “tell me you’re gonna come.” 

“Fuck, I am, I’m gonna come...” 

“Say it’s for me, Steve, tell me it’s mine.” 

Steve nods so hard, he can feel a bruise bloom at the base of his skull where it grates against the riverstone. Of course it’s for Bucky, everything’s for Bucky; every breath in his lungs and every beat of his stricken, obsessed heart. The sensations within him are mounting too immense, too desperate to be named pleasure, but they’re careening all the same towards the one thing Bucky wants from him, and it will only ever be Bucky’s, this perfect agony of coming undone.

“It’s yours,” he sobs, voice weak and body shaking. "Just—fuckin’ take it from me, Buck.”

He gives up all conscious hold on himself; submits entirely to the relentless drag of Bucky’s dick against his insides and the wet rasp of rock against his back as Bucky drives deep into his surrendered body, chasing that climax for the both of them.

It burns so bright, when it hits Steve; wrenched from his core and rolling sharp through the splay of his trembling frame. He cries out with it, but the storm cries louder, Bucky cries louder; moving ceaselessly through the spasms of Steve’s orgasm and drowning in the give of Steve’s body beneath him. 

“Fuck, Steve, I—” 

“Do it,” Steve slurs, needing nothing more than the tell-tale shudder of Bucky’s body and the way he gasps Steve’s name like a warning. “In me, Buck. Do it.” 

Bucky cusses sharp, pulsing his hips as he lets go inside Steve like he can bury that seed deep enough to stick. And fuck, Steve wants it to. It’s all raw nerve on the inside but Steve never wants this to end; possessed by the slick grind of Bucky’s twitching cock and the heaving half-moans of Bucky’s breath. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, reaching fingertips down to where their bodies are joined, where Bucky’s stuffed into him and leaking out of him. “Keep fucking me, just—just keep—” 

Keep coming. 

Be that monstrous entity in the woods who fucks me like it’s a haunting, ’til not even an exorcism would rid me of you. 

He prods at the stretch of his swollen rim, drags his fingers through the warmth seeping out around Bucky’s cock. He wants it everywhere; brings those slick fingers up to smear over the pulse point on his neck, down the line of his throat, and Bucky heaves a moan dragged right from the marrow of his bones. 

“I won’t stop,” he grits out through clattering teeth, rocking into Steve graceless and starving. “Not gonna stop, Steve.”

It sounds as much like threat as it does promise. 

They’re both quaking with it, overstimulated and frigid cold and too achingly, crushingly lost in each other. For all the serum may have made them both to defy science and probability, to withstand war and stall the ravages of aging, it still couldn’t create a vessel vast enough to contain this - this raw, insatiable need for one another. 

“Bucky…” 

Steve looks up from the flat of his back; tips his head to offer up the stretch of his throat as he offers up a tremulous verse — a challenge — into the space between them. 

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep...” 

Recognition sparks dark and joyous in Bucky’s gaze. He catches Steve’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, palm against palm in a too-tight grip.

“But I have promises to keep,” he grins, “and miles to go before I sleep…” 

His lips are turning up wolfish; the roll of his hips turning to something liquid and long-haul, and the rain beats down just as violent as it ever did. 

Steve lets his eyes slip closed, lets the final refrain slip from his tongue before he surrenders, smiling, to the slow closing of Bucky’s teeth around his windpipe.

“...And miles to go before I sleep.” 

If you’re at all curious, the poems they quote are ‘In The Forest’ by Oscar Wilde, and ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost 😘