#not to mention the fact that what the main leads are looking for is already what she has... except it lasts all year lmao.

[lxvvie]

Warren Kole was in a hallmark movie????

Was he?

See, because my mom LOVES watching Hallmark for their Christmas movies and can and will keep it on that channel 25/8, it makes my ass itch now and I avoid it every holiday.

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[innerfare]

Killer Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of headcanons about being in a relationship with Killer

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Killer fell first and fell harder. He didn’t realize it was happening at first, he was just as shocked as you were to realize he turned into a rabid dog when anyone so much as mentioned your name, fighting anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. Even more shocking was the sweeter side you brought out of him. 

You had no idea what was happening in Killer’s head. To you, Killer was just a crew mate, and not just any crew mate: the first mate. You had the wherewithal to clock the man in the mask as emotionally unavailable and that was that. Sure, you often went for drinks together, but only with the whole crew, and yeah, you laughed at the same jokes and ate the same meals, but it was as crew mates, the lines clearly drawn and the knowledge that he was dangerous always in the back of your head. 

But then he started doing things for you. 

He started making a different side at dinner because the one he was serving everyone else wasn’t something you would eat. He started giving you the best piece of dessert, much to Kid’s chagrin. He started stepping aside when it came time to board the Victoria Punk to allow you to board first. He started scaring off men at pubs and taverns before they ever got the change to be rejected by you. Oh, and he started intervening in all of your fights. 

You take the fighting bit personally, never having considered he was into you. You think he’s just underestimating you, thinking you can’t hold your own in a fight. This leads you to confront him one night, more than prepared to duel him to prove your worth as a pirate and warrior. He shocks you by coming clean and confessing his feelings for you, though not exactly in a romantic way. It’s more like he’s pissed off by your accusations and snaps at you that he can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. He storms off afterwards. 

It takes you a few days to process what he told you because it makes you see him in a completely different light. Gone is the cold-blooded killer you shared a ship with, here is the man who has been taking care of you in small ways without you even realizing. And the most shocking part is how the idea of him stopping makes your chest ache. You grew accustomed to his affection without even realizing. 

You wait until around midnight, when you know he goes into the shower alone, and follow him in. He lets you see him without his mask, and you share your first kiss. That’s that, and from that point forward, the two of you are an item. 

The shower becomes the main place the two of you spend alone time together. Killer finds it easier to let his guard down. He’s going to take his mask off anyway to wash up, which makes it easier to do with you around. He’s able to convince himself it’s not a big deal, and the fact that you’re so cool about it helps. His face is a secret the two of you share, as are his kisses and kind words and difficult past. 

You’re his safe space and he’s yours. 

Don’t expect him to stop intervening in your fights now that you share his bed every night. He claims it’s because you’re too slow and he got to the enemies first, or because you looked like you already had your hands full, but you know the real reason he jumps in. 

He always keeps one of the counters clear in the kitchen so you can sit on it while he cooks. Everything that lands on the table is tasted by you first. 

Merciless teasing by Kid (he’s just jealous). 

After he eats his fruit, you realize not all of his laughs are the same, and you learn to read his emotions based on the different laughs, speaking a language he hates but is oh so grateful to you for learning. 

This is the sort of thing your relationship is built on- subtleties. It’s what made him fall in love with you and it’s the reason he would kill or die for you. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[lu-is-not-ok]

two in one theory... i am listening very intently if you ever feel up to share it!!

Alright, so this is gonna be... as close to an Abridged explanation of the theory as I can make, because if I went off on everything about it I would end up writing a whole dissertation or five hour video essay script on this shit.

There are gonna be three main sections to this post - Hong Lu's Daiyuisms, Hong Lu's Themes of Identity and how that connects to the concept of Two in One, and the Daiyu-Baoyu theory itself.

Strap in folks.

Hong Lu's Daiyuisms

If you know anything about my theories in the earlier days of Limbus, you might know that I'm one of the very few people who was convinced Hong Lu is actually Daiyu, due to some evidence I found personally compelling. This has not changed, as we've only gotten just as much extra evidence to this as we have to him being Baoyu. So let me just speedrun through some of these points.

The Fucking Jade Eye

Ok hear me out. This is maybe the least important piece of evidence but I can never stop thinking about it. Hong Lu's jade eye? Not actually fully blue! If you look closely on most of his sprites, you can see that he actually has sectoral heterochromia, meaning his jade eye is both blue and black.

Daiyu's name, quite literally, translates to blue-black jade.

Now, you could claim that this is merely meant to be an easter egg reference to her, but... is that really Project Moon's style? After all, when people speculated on Don Quixote being Sancho or a Bloodfiend partially based on her appearance all the way back since near launch, they turned out to be right.

Hong Lu's Father

As of now, there is only one instance of Hong Lu referencing his Father in Limbus, and it's a voiceline from his Base Identity:

Now, if you know anything about DOTRC, this should already be raising some flags, because if Hong Lu was just Baoyu, he would not fucking talk like that about his Father.

In the book, Baoyu is consistently shown to be afraid of his Father, for a good reason mind you, as he's his main abuser. Baoyu would not be looking forward to introducing his friends to that man.

Even if Hong Lu was trying to downplay the abuse he's recieved, this would still not fit his pattern of behavior. When topics that genuinely bother Hong Lu come up, such as what could make him distort or how rich people would enjoy gifts made of humans, he immediately pivots and tries to avoid the topic at all cost. He would not bring up his main abuser in such a lighthearted manner, he would avoid bringing him up at all cost.

However, there is a character in DOTRC which does in fact have a more positive relationship to her Father, and would likely be the one with an opinion such as that - Daiyu. Daiyu loves her Father, and when he dies she completely disappears from the story for a bit to attend his funeral. If there was anyone who would be excited to introduce their friends to their Father, it'd be Daiyu.

Lasso Hong Lu's Corrosion

I made a whole seperate post about this, but I might as well mention it here as well for the sake of completion. The design choices made for Hong Lu which are missing for Faust are very, very Daiyu-coded.

For one, not only does Hong Lu completely turn into a flower, unlike Faust, his horse also gains a flower in its mouth. For those whose knowledge of DOTRC is zero to none, Daiyu is a reincarnation of a Flower given sentience due to being watered by the Jade. I don't think I have to be the one to connect the dots between those two pieces of info for you.

The second is how the halters become a noose for Hong Lu. This, too, is a very Daiyu thing - Rose Hunter as an Abnormality represents the inability to escape one's fate, and Daiyu's fate is to die - the Jia Family arranging a marriage between Baoyu and Baochai leads to Daiyu falling deathly ill, which in itself could be considered a part of her repaying her Debt of Tears - the debt she swore to repay to the Jade/Baoyu when she was still a Flower.

The hilarity of the fact that this E.G.O came out in the same update as Hong Lu being called Baoyu in-story is not lost on me.

Rose Sign Abnormality Log

The third Log for Rose Sign ends in a very peculiar way.

There's multiple ways one can tie Hong Lu's odd reluctance to talk about flowers and the petals. One is the obvious "he's being reminded of Daiyu because she was a Flower" connection, but there's another one.

One of the most commonly potrayed images of Daiyu relates to a scene in DOTRC where she buries fallen flower petals, weeping for and lamenting the mortality of the flowers and herself. Hong Lu's reaction here to his fellow Sinners being reduced to nothing but petals upon Rose Sign's death feels like a notable parallel to Daiyu's flower burial scene.

Like literally everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu

The title for this is a bit of an exaggeration, but at the same time. I'm serious. Kurokumo Hong Lu is perhaps the most Daiyu Identity out of all the Hong Lu Identities we have, and the way he is designed to stand out among them further makes me go insane.

Kurokumo Hong Lu's most defining trait is his attitude - he often complains about his position and how authority treats him, though he doesn't really act out against them in any major way outside of making snarky or sarcastic remarks.

This is, frankly, an extremely Daiyu thing to do. Daiyu is one of the few characters who audibly complains about her treatment in the household. For example she complains about not being given as many opportunities to show off her poetry skills as her male peers are, and she recognises how, when all the girls in the family are given flowers, she's the last one to recieve them and thus is stripped of the ability to pick, being only given the leftovers.

Then there's the whole. Everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu's visual design. Because once you realize just how Daiyu-like the Identity is, you realize just how weird he is compared to other Hong Lu Identities. I mean just look how he compares to his other Identities.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity with a blue tint to his hair in the combat sprite rather than the usual purple.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity whose hairtie is a ribbon rather than a jade ring (Liu Hong Lu technically has the ribbon in his post-uptie art, but he doesn't have it in his combat sprite so I'm not counting him).

He's the only Hong Lu Identity to not be smiling in his combat sprites.

And he's the only Hong Lu Identity (and one of only four Identities in the game) whose Idle sprite has its body facing away from the opponent rather than facing towards them.

All of those combine to make him stand out like a sore thumb in a Hong Lu Identity lineup in a way that makes it feel intentional, especially since he's also the only Hong Lu Identity with that kind of notable attitude towards authority. Other Hong Lu Identities are either obedient, don't express any opinion, or just straight up are the authority.

The Baoyu reveal is framed in a very weird way

This is, admittedly, less of a Daiyuism and more of a not-Baoyuism, but I thought it'd be important to mention nonetheless.

There are a lot of things about Canto 7's reveal of Hong Lu's name being Baoyu that are very strange, especially compared to how the Canto frames Don Quixote's own reveal of actually being Sancho.

For one, the timing itself - why is such an important piece of info being revealed so early? Again, compare to Donqui - she was revealed to be a Bloodfiend in the Intervallo right before Canto 7, and the Sancho reveal only came in the second half of the Canto.

For two, the framing - Donqui's reveals are treated as what they are, Major Reveals. The Baoyu reveal on the other hand happens in a single off-handed line, with nobody reacting to it in any way. Neither Hong Lu nor the other Sinners seem to hear it after all.

And mind you, it's not like Limbus is opposed to giving us important information in off-handed lines - far from it in fact. Project Moon loves shoving little bits of foreshadowing and reveals you don't realize are reveals until way later in these kinds of off-handed lines. But the way those lines are treated is still very different to how the Baoyu reveal is treated.

Usually, when there's foreshadowing in off-handed lines, it's usually either vague enough to be something a character could say regardless of context (see Yi Sang getting hung up on the Sedatives bit in Canto 2 or Ishmael's comment about Syndicates pretending to be Families foreshadowing her own history with the Middle via Queequeg) or something that is in the middle of a scene that distracts from what is actually being said (like Hong Lu's distortion foreshadowing being in the middle of an important infodump or most of everything in Canto 2 being surrounded by a comedic tone).

None of this is present for the Baoyu reveal. There's nothing to distract you from this information, as the scene is already focused on discussing Hong Lu, meaning you're already likely to be paying attention to what is being said about him. There's also no vagueness about it, there's no way you can brush it off since not only are Wei and Xichun newly introduced characters, but it's a whole ass clearcut namedrop.

The only way I can justify that reveal being there in the form it takes is that it in itself is the distraction. Think about it. Didn't I point it out earlier that this reveal came in the same update as the E.G.O with an extremely Daiyu-coded corrosion design? Wouldn't it make sense for that reveal to be there to lower your guard, make you think you resolved that mystery, only to later on reveal it wasn't the whole story after all?

Hong Lu's Themes of Identity

So this section is a bit more vague than the Daiyuism section, because Hong Lu is the type of guy to just Say Shit all the time. It's basically just. Anything that I find relevant to the idea of Hong Lu's Identity being more complex than him just being a random guy using a pseudonym, with some (but maybe not all) of them directly tying to the idea of Two in One.

"Which one is the real you?"

There are currently two seperate scenes where Hong Lu muses on the idea of someone's identity being in some way vague or obscured.

Is Dante the person or the clock? Is the dreamer the one in the dream or the one who wakes from it? Which you is the real you? Does it even matter if that you will flutter away in the end?

This idea of there being one true self. That even if there are two, there is only one of them that is actually you. Curious, right?

Face-changing dance

During the Canto 2 scene where everyone gives their reasons for whether or not they'd be a good pick for being the one to dance, Hong Lu says this.

Bian lian is a kind of dance literally translated as "face-changing". It involves rapid changes between various masks and make-up to represent different emotions or characters.

Now, it's no secret that Hong Lu is a great actor, as we see in Canto 4, and Canto 7 shows how the comparison to theatre and actors can be used to symbolize one's performance of identity, as it does for Sancho and her Don Quixote persona.

Mind you, this reveal comes in the same scene as Sinclair's dance invoking the image of a bonfire burning all through the night according to the Mariachis, a clear foreshadowing to Canto 3 and the Literal burning down of Sinclair's home.

Hong Lu knowing bian lian could be further foreshadowing to his own skills in deception, and how he too is a sort of actor, not unlike Don Quixote. On the other hand however, it could also be a more literal foreshadowing, that he (Baoyu) Quite Literally changed his face. We won't know until Canto 8, but it is an option you know.

The HamHamPangPang dish(es)

For those who don't know, here is a list of the Sinner-themed dishes that were available at HamHamPangPang.

Now, chances are, not all of them have deep meanings. I don't think there's much of a deep meaning to Heathcliff and Ishmael's dishes, I think PJM just legit don't know much about British/American cuisine so they just picked something recogniseable.

However, not all of them are meaningless picks either. Ryoshu, likely a mother, has a meal literally called "parent-and-child donburi". Don Quixote, a Bloodfiend, has a garlic-based dish. These were clearly done on purpose.

So, what does it say that Hong Lu's dish is actually two different dishes? That he's the only one whose dish is two different dishes? And it's not like the two are in some way inherently connected, since they're of completely different cuisines. Japchae is a Korean dish, not Chinese like the Mandarin rolls.

And just in case you weren't convinced that Hong Lu's choice of dishes is purposeful - another name for Mandarin rolls is flower buns, and one of the special occasions japchae is commonly served for is weddings. If you had read through the Daiyuisms section and somehow have no idea what the significance of that is, I don't know what to tell you.

The Daiyu-Baoyu Theory (finally)

So. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could still be Daiyu despite being revealed as Baoyu. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could be a Two in One deal, or that at the very least there's something more complex going on with his identity. But let's discuss the theory itself, how it would recontextualize certain things, and why I think it's an extremely fitting an thematically resonant direction for Hong Lu's Canto to go in.

The Theory

Here's what I speculate is going on.

Daiyu, just like in DOTRC, is someone who was taken in into the Jia Household rather than born in it, and who strongly connected with Baoyu upon meeting him. The two would end up forming a bond strong enough that they would be willing to die for one another (or, if they're in particularly argumentative moods, to kill themselves just to force the other to have to live a long life grieving over them - this is an actual argument they have in DOTRC and I pray to god this is adapted into Limbus because it's too fucking funny).

At some point, Baoyu either dies or is brought to near death, likely through the same circumstances as in DOTRC - being beaten by his Father. To save him, his memories and consciousness would be transferred to his eye, a process not dissimilar to the one Xichun brings up in Canto 7, and implanted into Daiyu's body, causing them to become a vessel for Baoyu. This would be how Hong Lu as he is now is created.

All of the above is the main basis for this theory. Everything else that I might speculate about, such as the exact nature of the two's relationship, Daiyu's more exact background and personality, how their pre-reincarnation lives could be adapted - all of those are things that are purely speculative and ones that I don't really expect to be actually fulfilled. The only bits that I am sure are likely to be true is what I laid out above.

So... what does it all mean for the future? I'm glad you asked!

The Recontextualization

Here's a collection of just a couple of things that Hong Lu has said or is depicted as that would be heavily recontextualized if this theory ends up being true.

Hong Lu surviving despite claiming he didn't fight back when his siblings first tried to kill him: With the context that he used to be two seperate people, the answer to how he survived is made very simple. Baoyu is the one who wasn't fighting back. Daiyu, however, could have still protected him in turn.

The red ribbon on Hong Lu's weapon: There is only one other Sinner who has a similar decoration on their weapon - Ryoshu, who also has a red ribbon on her sword, which could be easily connected to Yuzuki and her death. With the context of Hong Lu being Baoyu occupying Daiyu's body and thus effectively rendering their self non-existent, the red ribbon could be a parallel symbol - a symbol of Daiyu and their 'death'.

How Hong Lu treats his weapon in his base E.G.O: The way Hong Lu holds his weapon in the illustration is more like he's cradling another person. This could be a representation of how he feels about Daiyu's situation. Likewise, in the attack animation, he's not really attacking with the weapon itself, is he? He's simply using it to direct a ribbon (which in itself is missing in the illustration), the part that is actually the attack. If the weapon in the base E.G.O represents Daiyu, this could be a parallel to how Baoyu feels like he's merely directing Daiyu's body to attack, rather than being the one actually attacking.

The duality of Hong Lu IDs: There is a notable pattern among Hong Lu IDs, and that is the focus on his attitude to violence. When he's in a situation where he's obedient towards his Family, he's either uninterested in violence, bored of it, or otherwise given no other choice but to use it as a reprieve from boredom. However, when he's in a situation where he's disconnected from his Family or otherwise questioning the status quo, he's shown to not only be much more aggressive and violent, but to outright enjoy it. With the context of Hong Lu being composed of two people, this duality could represent each of his components - the obedient and violence-averse being more Baoyu-like, while the questioning and violence-favoring being more Daiyu-like.

So, there's a bunch of stuff that would be given new meaning under the premise of this theory being true. But now, what about the future? What would this theory mean for the themes and ending of Canto 8?

The Resolution

I believe this is how the Daiyu-Baoyu theory will affect Canto 8.

At some point, whether before or during the Canto, it will be revealed that Hong Lu is both Daiyu and Baoyu. There will be an attempt to seperate the two, perhaps to implant Baoyu into a more fitting, more Jia Family-approved Vessel. Perhaps because the 'arranged marriage' from DOTRC could be adapted into something more... let's say Fear and Hunger kind of marriage rather than traditional marriage.

This will leave Hong Lu to be returned to their state as Daiyu, who will be revealed to be a very different person to what the Sinners knew Hong Lu as. There is a non-zero chance that Daiyu will be unable to hear Dante or be revived by them due to the one who signed the contract being Baoyu, and so they could end up acting as an uncontrollable ally unit not unlike Xichun in Canto 7.

The climax would then be Daiyu and Baoyu reuniting and being unwilling to part with each other again, even for the sake of returning to being the fake persona that is Hong Lu, leading to a potential duo boss fight/distortion boss fight/duo distortion boss fight.

The ending would be the two of them deciding to embrace their new identity as Hong Lu and truly becoming one, discarding their pasts and the selves that had been forced on them by the Jia Family. This ending would have a twofold meaning regarding how it connects to the DOTRC adaptation.

One - it would be a direct parallel to the ending of DOTRC where Baoyu leaves to become a monk. By becoming Hong Lu and discaring his previous identities, he'd be leaving behind the earthly attachments inherent to being Baoyu and Daiyu and become spiritually whole.

Two - it would be a reflection of the major theme of DOTRC, that being "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real becomes not-real when the unreal's real." Hong Lu, as a person, is a 'fake' persona used by the 'real' Baoyu and Daiyu. However, by discarding those two identities and deciding to just be Hong Lu, the fiction of his existence becomes the truth, while his former real selves become not real.

Conclusion?

I could honestly just keep going with this post, but I think I'm going to stop myself here before I'm forced to find out what tumblr's character limit on posts is. Believe me, I was trying to be brief, and still this post is. This fucking long.

I hope this explains why this theory has been the subject of my brainrot for the past however long, and why I feel like it's surprisingly plausible despite being as deranged as it is.

Godspeed and godbless, I have classes tomorrow and I'm spending my time on this.

[vampire-wizard-solidarity]

a lot of people have already pointed out how totk has a lot of themes of imperialism and generally leans conservative ideologically, but what i think is interesting is how totk subtly redefines what a “researcher” is.

zelda wants to be a researcher in botw, and what this means in the context of botw is largely someone who works with sheikah technology. she wants to figure out ancient sheikah tech, she has an interest in botany and otherwise nature and biology (the whole silent princess and the frog thing), robbie and purah, the two characters who are the closest to us seeing what a researcher in the context of botw is are basically inventors. in totk, however, the main researchers who are presented to us are all historians.

this is an interesting pivot, because in botw zelda is not really interested in history. if anything, the one who’s deeply concerned with history is rhoam, wanting to preserve historical tradition and his uncritical reliance on said tradition and historical precedent is what leads them to their doom. in botw, zelda is narratively opposed to history, if anything, all the ancient tech backfires on them and traditions fail to awaken zelda’s power. zelda’s urge to be a researcher is in wanting to understand the world around her, not just blindly follow ancient plans but rather have agency within them.

totk, however, is obsessed with ancient plans. the only real moment where zelda gets to geek out in totk is her getting all giddy about finding out more about the divine origins of hyrule. all the researchers in the game are concerned with finding out more about the zonai. since all the mentions of ancient sheikah technology are scrubbed from the game purah and robbie read more as strange outliers, the sheikah slate is no longer, now it’s the purah pad, a product of purah rather than something larger. the whole game is literally about following an ancient plan, a plan most characters don’t fully understand as they sign up for it. totk’s main story is built on confusion, on the characters not knowing what’s fully going on but having faith in ancient sages telling them what to do. in botw, following ancient plans you don’t fully understand was the thing that doomed you. in totk, following ancient plans you don’t fully understand is the gimmick.

that juxtaposition between the two games has an ideological through line: botw posits that progress is necessary. mindlessly relying on tradition doesn’t work. prophecies are omens, not instructions. history must be learnt from, not repeated. the ancient sheikah aren’t a group to be emulated, but rather to be learnt from, considering their machinery backfired and the royal family betrayed them. totk, however, is obsessed with the mythical history of hyrule, a time where everything was idyllic until one bad man showed up, a time we must emulate in order to win. i already talked about how the past in totk is zelda’s life pre calamity but better here, but that also plays into the idolisation of that era and its royalty. in botw, even the myth of the first calamity preserves the fact that the yiga clan has origins in the royal’s family persecution of the sheikah, even the time when they successfully held back the calamity is tinged with mistakes that still affect the world ten thousand years later. in totk, ganondorf’s origins are nebulous. nobody provoked him, nobody did anything wrong, he’s just evil because he is.

a lot of right wing ideologies are hinged on preservation, but more than that: the belief in the nebulous mythical past in which everything was better. “make america great again”, the fascist’s idolisation of ancient rome which is represented largely inaccurately, look at any conservative rhetoric and you’ll see people complaining about how things nowadays are ruined or are being ruined, how in the past things were this way and they’re not anymore, which is bad. the belief in the fact that in some past period we were great and are not anymore, and the strive to emulate that past is a trait highly typical of right wing ideologies. and in totk the past as a great era is an idea presented completely uncritically, the narrative is entirely controlled by the game and doesn’t dwell on any of the inconsistencies in this idea.

now, obviously, not every story in which a great ancient era exists is fascist, right wing or conservative. but to me what’s interesting specifically in totk is this shift between the two games: botw is critical of the past. it’s critical of arrogantly repeating history, it’s critical of having blind faith in great relics of the past. totk isn’t. totk idolizes the past, totk tells legends and tells you to believe them without any doubts. botw believes researchers are those who seek to understand the world, innovate it and solve problems without relying on ancient ways. totk believes researchers are those who discover ancient instructions, ancient ways and relay them to great men in the present to be followed. the four mainline regional quests in botw are about discovering four ancient relics that are terrorising the land and fixing the mistakes of the past. the four mainline regional quests in totk are about discovering four ancient legends are true, and receiving instructions from an ancient sage on what to do.

totk is not simply neutral, it is ideologically conservative in stark contrast to botw, because of the things it chooses to leave uncriticised, notably the things botw was very poignant about examining critically. the way totk redefines what is a researcher is indicative of this, indicative of the way it chooses to idolize or present as an unexamined good that which was nuanced in botw. totk isn’t just conservative in the sense that it presents uncritically a “good king” and “evil conquerer”, it goes deeper, it’s notable because botw was starkly opposed to the thematic axioms totk presents.

i just think it’s very interesting that they made a sequel to botw, and completely redefined or otherwise ignored botw’s thematic core.

[runaeveena]

Your dashboard if you were in a d&d fantasy world still involved in fictional erotica discourse part 2

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

now that the new Mountain Angel volume has come out can we please tag spoilers, some of us are still waiting for our pigeon mail

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

you can access the volume in full on TomePlane!

🎭 bardcampistrash Follow

until TomePlane acknowledges that its interplanar storage is made possible by binding aboleths to the plane and killing them then we are going to continue not using that platform, thanks

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

aboleths killed my cousin who was a royal cleric. ill never understand why theres a whole movement to protect abyssal creatures when theyve caused so much damage to our kingdoms. and disliking a pocket dimension which provides thousands of people access to books? your attitude reeks of anti literaturism and mal-aligned virtue signaling and im not sure which is worse

🫒 tenthday237 Follow

Aliizya gets pregnant on page 62

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

banished

620 Notes

🏰 finchtruther Follow

okay but the way that faelor finch writes every song that perfectly fits pennbiel liiike its giving closet fangirl

🧭 waywardwarlock

seriouslyy!! like what else is "give me your unmarked hand / in the shadowfell we won't be a secret" supposed to be about if not pennipher and corabiel

16 Notes

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

yall please dont fill up the unseen servant tag with your super fucking weird smut posts im just looking for tips on how to find my unseen servant

🪡 scç-writer

the search function on tomeblr does need to be updated but we dont have to kinkshame :)

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

the site is being overrun by virgin degenerates

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

sounds like you need Wilam the Wizard with Wandering Hands to help you summon the unseen stick in your ass

290 Notes

🗝️ crypt-princess Follow

so whose going to be the first to commission a painting of that scene with Aliizya and the beholder 👀

🍎 bloodmaledickening Follow

i already asked my local artisan he said he's gotten two other commissions for the same scene lmao

🐁 softbarbarian

girl i commissioned a tapestry

45 Notes

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

friendly reminder that devil deals are a real thing that a lot of people fall victim too and that demons are malicious and do destroy peoples lives if theyre not careful so please be careful when consuming works like Hellionfinity which romanticizes devil deals and fiendish soul contracts

🌾entangled-farmer Follow

imo any work of fiction that involves a romance between any type of fiend is not just problematic but harmful

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

i used to be indifferent to books that had devil romance interests because like thats their whole thing theyre seducing people to get their souls and the mc overcomes it, but reading through the replies i see that Hellionfinity actually ends with the devil character as the main romantic lead which is super problematic in terms of power imbalance and the fact that he has a redemption arc is so out of touch especially since our military is finally recovering from the azgurian assault

🧚🏻‍♂️arms-of-faelor

helliofinity also has a scene where the main character uses a soul coin that an imprisoned mortal gave him and he uses it to bring the devil out of avernus so he doesnt fully die and no one in the book mentions it or talks about how messed up it is to use soul coins and we never see the now bound to hell prisoner ever again

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

hellionfinity officially cancelled on my end!

88 Notes

☘️ celest-ial Follow

moment of silence for all the customers waiting on drink orders while the tavern wench gets her back blown out by a new guy every night ✊😔

🦁 king-killa Follow

the gods work hard but Girthy Gladys gets worked harder

57,022 Notes

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

paladin and warlock romances are OUT! cleric and necromancer romances are IN!

🪭 royalcoinpurse Follow

the only thing a cleric should do to a necromancer is beat him to death so she can revive him and kill him again

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

❇️ arch-dryad Follow

i think we need to analyze why we're so quick to place women in categories of devious seductress or healer in romance novels as if that hasnt been the pervasive trope that holds magic-touched women back in our actual society

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

why do you assume these fictional tropes are mf couples only? can a gay cleric not beat his gay necromancer boyfriend to death?

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

and off! beat him off cmon guys

5,275 Notes

🧀 weremouse Follow

yall ever be talking or whatnot and feel like no one understands you

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛄᚠ ᛡᚢ ᚳᚪᚾ ᚱᛁᛞ ᚦᛄᛋ ᛡᚢ ᚺᚪᚠ ᛏᚢ ᚱᛁᛒᛚᚪᚷ ᚦᛄᛋ

🧀 weremouse Follow

say that shit fr (<- looking around clueless)

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛋᛁᚱᛁᚪᛋᛚᛁ

60 Notes

🌠 crownofstars

remember when that person made a call out post for the author of ilairepeler for using a ghost writer and it turned out the author was an actual ghost. writing. like a literal ghost writer. like.

🍄gnomestool Follow

arent you the dwarf that fucked a slaad

🌠 crownofstars

how would you like to become a ghost so you can write more witty comments like this for eternity

301 Notes

[erensfeed]

OKAY BUT.

I woke up this morning with like, a flashing need to send you an ask about your LADS Actor AU, which sometimes just consumes my thoughts at random times.

👁️ But the boys recording the MYTHS.

Angst CENTRAL ANGST.

I just remembered the last update where they were doing Caleb's death (haha temporary of course, he's just taking a break) and she's acting out how she passes out and he pops up next to her like, why so sad?

And like... Recording the HEART BREAKING bits of their myths?

Spoilers ahead in case you HAVEN'T seen them all, won't go into detail but...

Dying in Xavier's arms? Forseer Zayne reading her fate and giving up everything for her? Rafayel having to chose between her life and his people's?

Whatever the fuck Sylus has got goin on? With the whole stabbing in the chest?

I was just consumed by the thought of them having to get into that headspace before the scene, having to pretend to see her die or hurt or knowing they won't see her again, when it's fake.

The aftermath of it too, getting out of that, maybe they're all whipped (yes) and just need a good hug and to ground themselves. Method acting you know...

Anyway 👁️ I've ranted enough 👁️

Thank you for reading through this whole ass paragraph, hope your day is wonderful!

content: how i imagine they’d be as actors when filming their myths. * some minor spoilers from me on xavier as well ! * ૮ ˶ᵔ ~ ᵔ˶ ა

you literally have no clue how i literally love you for still thinking ab those silly hcs😭 THANK YOU THANK U THANK UUU !! AND STOP BC THIS IDEA??? ate down.

cause omg they’d literally be love interests who grew head over heels in love with the main co-star in a fr deep(ressive) story. and it’s like gawd. what a life they’d come to lead if they really were actors then LMAOO

but anyway ! they would be told and agree (months prior), that method acting would be the best thing when filming each of their intense myths. and i know for a fact that rafayel would be the one waayyy too into that method acting stuff because it’d all end up feeling really personal.

‘i can totally work with this’ were the exact words that came from him as you watched and listened to him, munching on his box of donuts (this was a habit between you two — going over to the other’s trailer to snack on whatever the other got to eat). not to mention the times he’d re-read his copy of the script analysis for the nth time / before main rehearsals, and how he’d be all “pft, i wonder why [main director’s name] thinks acting all of this would ever even get to me”. and that never aged well at ALL because he ended up being more attached to it than he expected, as his natural reactions were already in tune with his lemurian character anyway.

but anyway during the era of, rafayel would suddenly stay to himself a little more / even got confused on his real feelings for you (?). and of course he’d recognize that and try to keep things professional, but he would also catch himself sometimes looking at or treating you like mc. and it’s like oh ! all this because he somehow tied everything to your irl friendship / dynamic ??? LOL

but anyway much like rafayel, xavier would also see you as the mc. just in a different way of course. cause it doesn’t help that you just so happen to naturally act like the mc, even off camera.

now when acting the real deal of his myth — when you lay lifeless in his arms — he would imagine that you really were the mc, keeping his head down as the feeling of the idea of holding the one he loved but couldn’t save hit him. his eyes would also be vacant during this scene, especially as he held the star tassel, the weight of it feeling heavier as he envisioned you giving it to him before dying.

in this same scene where he had to hold one of your limp hands in his, it actually felt colder. this didn’t show in the final take because xavier acts so authentically, but it did catch him off guard — as no one told him your hands would actually have to be cold for the real scene. and that made the moment feel even more real and intensified this ache in his chest at the thought of losing you. (lolol ofc the directors kept that because gawd everything was so realistic)

he’d tell himself it was just that scene that got to him but he’d eventually grow to randomly start reaching out to hold your hand in his more often, just to feel its warmth.

stop im giggling now bc im abt to go read smth angsty w xavier

moving on though ! zayne and his foreseer myth? especially dawnbreaker?? .. let me not go there bc this would be longer than needed. though i will say that zayne hadn’t planned on being “affected”. but he would quietly start to observe you more, as his way of not directly discussing his emotions. (this was also what prompted him to be quick to protect you on set)

in conclusion. rafayel as an actor, who has the biggest soft spot for you, would pull back just a little while in that headspace. quietly growing to wonder if you’d also forget him & all the moments you shared, once love and deepspace was over. and he would also start joking about his feelings more to mask them during that time. xavier, on the other hand, would develop a habit of finding lame excuses to have your hand in his whenever you were together, since feeling your cold hands that day did actually do something to him. zayne wouldn’t want to admit how it actually affected him but he would eventually be vulnerable about it with only you. lastly and not surprisingly enough, sylus would remain the only sane one regarding his character's darker lore LMAOO. so i’ll just leave that there (until his myth comes out).

but even though their well hidden feelings for you complicated things, they were great actors so it wouldn’t really affect them terribly for long, as they had ways to separate their personal lives from their roles by all the way you’d comfort them after you found out.

a/n: THIS WAS SO FUN & FUNNY TO ADD ONTO. althoughhh i personally don’t feel like this is 100% spot on & tied to the (1st) actor au hcs, as it’s just some ways i think they’d react but that could just be bc i wrote this in one sitting. didn’t also plan on talking that much and ab my glorious 6ft prince rafayel either but anyway thank yeww for this pooks. (also, im giving you a moon emoji for all our next discussions bc i look forward to them🙂‍↕️ )

[seonghwaddict]

stupefied — kang yeosang

in which a small accident leads to something more.

prince!kang yeosang x fem!reader. genre. fluff, domestic fluff, slight crack. warnings. they're super awkward, description and mentions of wounds, a tiny bit of blood, they're super cute. wc. 5.8k.

lilo's notes. hi i'm back :3

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

There was nothing that could explain why Prince Kang Yeosang was roaming the woods, other than the fact that he desired a break. He told his servants not to go looking for him because he was on a personal mission, but in reality, he wanted to mindlessly wander around in a disguise that would not attract attention. He set off in his worst garments and a hood above his head. The brief vacation was only supposed to last for a day, but it did not go as he had anticipated.

After winding his way through snow and wood for so long, he fell into a rhythm. His defences were down and his thoughts were building themselves into other things until he heard singing. It was an enchanting melody, but that did not keep him from being wary. Once he brought more focus to his path, he realised that the part of the forest he was in felt unfamiliar. He told himself he was too competent to fall into such a generic trap, so he got off his horse and secured him to a tree. After asking his companion not to make a sound—as if the animal would understand him—he moved further with much caution and hands raised. His fingers twitched as the voice grew louder and his boots pushed quietly onto the earth.

Up ahead, you hummed a sweet melody. However, you faltered for a second when you heard the snap of a twig. It was easy to believe that it was likely one of the many harmless animals that liked to roam about the area in the afternoon, so you continued. Your confidence began to diminish once the sounds of birds twittering faded into silence. It did not look like a storm was coming, so the safest conclusion was already thrown aside along with your composure. By all accounts, if you were so nervous, why did you continue singing?

As Yeosang passed a shrub, he saw you by several bushes filled with various berries. His first thought was not him questioning why a young woman would be by herself in this secluded part of the forest. Instead, he thought of how carefully your fingers skimmed across each fruit to study them. He was close enough to see the way the sun caused a glimmer that beamed off your shoulders and brought a shine to the locks of your hair. If he was closer, he would have seen that your rosy lips were the result of you biting them to strengthen your concentration on berry picking. To his hidden delight, those same lips did not stop singing as minutes passed. The sight before him eased his suspicions significantly, but he was still hesitant about making his presence known. The Prince had planned to turn on his heels and try to forget what he saw, but once he put his guard down, his vigilance followed suit. A larger branch whimpered as it cracked from the weight of his body, and the next thing he could properly process was the girl’s frightened eyes meeting him.

From your perspective, it was after you had noticed that the birds were completely silent that you heard the branch break. You glanced at your surroundings briefly, picking up the largest rock you spotted. Just in case. You were on edge more than usual, so you whipped around to see why the sound was coming from behind you, and what had been causing it. Any other creature was what you expected, but when you saw a man crouched behind a shrub, you instinctively screamed and threw the rock right at him, hitting his head. The basket of freshly picked berries was knocked over as you tried to gather the fabric of your dress. Your shoes carried you to the nearest tree and you hid behind it and held your breath. The anticipation grew up your spine as the silence persisted. Minutes passed without any response from the mysterious man so she peeked. You could see the man’s wavy black hair still peeking out of what he previously hid behind.

You had concluded that ten minutes was not the normal amount of time that someone would pretend to be unconscious, so you approached his still body with your hands stretched out, ready to defend your own life. His face was the first thing she noticed about him. His features were so striking that you felt that if you reached out with your hands, your fingers would have bled. His physical appearance did not match the frayed clothing that he was wearing. Every strand of his hair fell into perfect position even though he had been knocked down on the ground. He was well-groomed in every sense of the word. It was odd. From your speed search, there did not seem to be any weapons on him, which made the situation even stranger.

“Oh, no.” You sank to the ground in shame.

Your fingers warily made their way to his wrist to check for a pulse, then his neck. He was so cold that without the hammering beating of his heart, she would have assumed that he was already dead. The growing red colour on his arm and the thin cut on his temple made the situation even more critical. You needed to get him to your home, but you did not know how to. You scrambled to pick up the man, but the weight you felt when you attempted to lift him by his shoulders was enough to convince you that dragging him back home would not work. Everything seemed pointless until you heard the heavy breaths and cries of a horse not too far from where you were. You thought that if it was not this strange man’s horse, then who else would be around to tie a horse to a tree? After practically begging the horse to lie down, you were finally able to drag the man onto it. That’s when you definitely knew you made the right decision. The majestic, pitch-black creature seemed so comfortable with the heavy man thrown over it like a towel.

“Come along now, sweetie.” You took the horse’s reins and walked it to your cottage.

When Prince Yeosang woke up, the first thing he saw was a cat. It was perched on his chest with no thought about the consent of the stranger. Its mismatched green and blue eyes almost distracted Yeosang from the fact that he was in a room that he was unfamiliar with. Not only that, but he felt something wrapped tightly around his arm and something else sticking against his temple. Before he could panic, he heard someone coming into the room.

“Laura!” You came rushing in. The cat was quickly removed from the prince’s chest, and he felt like he was left completely thoughtless. You tried to cradle Laura, but the cat leapt from your hands and out of the room. “I’m so sorry,” oyu said. The man stayed completely still, as the emotion on his face still remained ambiguous. You took that as your cue to introduce yourself with your first name. You waited to see if he would introduce himself too. When he didn’t, you continued. “You fell on a rock and were out cold when I checked you. Um,” you quickly pointed to the window on your right, “your horse is outside. I fed him… he’s really pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said. At any other time, the prince would be ready to fight his way out of a situation, but he was more focused on the light from the candles in the room gently contouring your face. Your beauty was painfully enchanting. It was a surprise how your features stupefied him the moment you stumbled through the door.

“Your food.” You dashed out of the small room as quickly as you came in. Your dress moved like billowing clouds as you made haste to retrieve his food, your quick footsteps giving the illusion that you were floating. Yeosang felt like he was looking at a person from the very fairy tales he heard as a child.

You came back in carrying a tray with a bowl and utensils in the centre. “Would you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Some food,” you nervously stated. Your idea of bringing the man back to your cabin was as awkward as you expected it to be, you were starting to regret your plan.

“Oh…” he nodded, “yes, please.” It should not have been that easy for a stranger to convince him to ingest anything, but he already had the silverware in his mouth before he was mentally chastising himself for being so easily charmed.

“I’m sorry for the confusion. I think you got cut on a sharp rock because your arm was bleeding really bad,” you said. That is when Yeosang finally stopped eating and looked at his left arm. It was utterly embarrassing that he did not notice it was entirely bandaged until now. He did not want to admit how bad it looked from the few discoloured parts of flesh peeking through. “And… you must’ve hit your head on something. I put some plasters on the little bit, but I think it should be fine by now.”

“Still, I would hate for you to continue your journey with an injured arm,” you added. You kept your attention on his wounded limb, it was jarring to see how dark his eyes were. They intimidated you into looking anywhere but at him and attempting bad conversation. “You can stay here until you feel well enough to return to what you were doing if that’s what she would like.”

“Thank you so much for your kindness.” Yeosang was no longer going to lie to himself. He knew he would rather spend days with the bewitching woman who saved his life than return to his very own prison. He would just hope that you didn’t have any ill intentions because it would be a shame if he would have to take you out himself.

“So,” you got up to mindlessly shuffle some stuff in the room. “What’s your name?” you grinned.

“Yeosang,” he replied without much thought. He wanted to take it back, but it was too late. No one really called him that anymore—but if you didn’t recognise him as the prince of this nation, he would try his best to keep it that way even if he could only experience a form of normality for a few days.

“That’s a lovely name… May I ask where you’re from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the nearest town…” You trailed off at the end in hesitation.

He thought for a moment before he said, “Gyeongju.”

“Oh, my—What’s it like? I’ve never been to the capital.” You could not stop your true reaction from escaping.

“It’s…” he let out a sigh, “pleasant.” The conversation died for a moment so you focused on Laura making it to the top of your dresser. It was your excuse for still not looking at him. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was raised here” you replied as you stroked Laura. He nodded. The conservation did not go any further until you chimed in again, “Well, it’s late. It’s such a shame that you just woke up.”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep,” he voiced politely.

“Okay.” You smiled and began to snuff out the candles around the room. “The door’ll be open so if you have any problems, you can just ask.”

The prince mindlessly nodded to your instruction. It would have been easy to ask where you would be if he was not so uncharacteristically timid. Yeosang refused to try to sleep. There was still some hesitance that made him cautious of sinking into the bed with a weak arm. It grew stiffer as the night continued, so he distracted himself with a book that was left on the wooden dresser.

The feeling of a weight on the Prince’s chest woke him up. When his eyes snapped open, they were looking at the sharp eyes of a feline which brought back memories of the afternoon before. His consciousness did not scare away the cat—as he had desired—but he knew picking up Laura would surely bring unpredictable pain. So, he stayed in an undisclosed staring match with her even as he heard small movements outside the room. After a short period, his focus broke once he heard distant calls for the cat. The young Prince looked back at the cat, which was now preparing to fall asleep on his lap until it met his eyes again. Laura stood right back up—he almost expected her to groan—and hopped off of the bed and out of the room. He followed suit, careful not to strain his injuries, and got out of bed. His body ached more than he was used to. It hurt all over, but there was a more pronounced pain in his forehead. Unfortunately, there was not much to do but follow the path Laura had shown to the kitchen.

“Laura—” The cat quickly interrupted you by hopping into your arms as you crouched. “Where did you go?” you petted her. Yeosang walked into the kitchen, but his steps in his shoes were very quiet. You didn’t notice him until Laura turned from staring at absolutely nothing to the towering wounded man. “Did you wake him?” You whispered to her. Laura continued to stare at the towering, pale man. “I apologise,” you muttered. He nodded with the faintest, courteous smile. You took the trace of emotion that you were given and pulled out a dining chair as you gestured him over. His long legs took him over to the dining table without much effort.

“Thank you.” He completed a small bow, and he sat. Instead of going into his meal, he looked around as you were occupied with trying to get Laura to eat. His brief scanning of the house had him see his horse through the window to the right of him.

“He was fed this morning,” you reassured him.

“Thank you.” He felt like an echo in a cave. He still had not said anything besides constantly thanking you for your hospitality. “He appears to be doing much better than I am.” He was satisfied to see how easily you let out a small chuckle.

After making sure Laura had finished eating, you rose and grabbed the handles of a woven picnic basket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you told him as you looked at his nose instead of his eyes because it was easier that way. You turned to Laura and whispered to her ears, “Please, behave, and don’t embarrass me.” As if she would listen if she could. As you went through the door, you looked back for a brief moment. You saw the man’s head whip back to attentively look at the cat on the dining chair. You closed the door and sent a small prayer that if the man tried to take anything or cause any trouble, then your cat would at least try to put up a fight.

Once the door had completely closed and your gentle footsteps grew quieter, he waited three minutes while eating and carrying on the staring match he had with the tabby cat, then got up and let his legs lead him throughout the house. Different varieties of dried flowers spun into circles were gently laid into a bowl. Next to it was the basket of berries he believed he saw yesterday. Plates were lazily leaning against the wall on a shelf while mugs were hanging from hooks. A sweet smell lingered in the kitchen, even though it looked recently cleaned. He couldn’t exactly name the scent but it resembled a mixture of vanilla and something fruity. He did not lose interest in the kitchen but knew his nosy lingering may take longer if he stayed. Yeosang walked to the living room to see two small armchairs next to a well-maintained fireplace. The abundance of shelves on the wall were filled with many books of varying sizes and colours. There was a knitted blanket haphazardly tossed over the chair facing his room.

He continued scanning the room and saw a closed door he never noticed; he had no time to think about the chairs any further. Had he been a guest anywhere else, he would have honoured privacy, but he considered this a unique circumstance. His fingers enveloped the handle and the door whined as he slowly pushed it open. All he did was poke his head in and was met with a clean and very simple room. It was a lot like the one he slept in, except there were different items decorating the tiny dresser. 

Ultimately, Yeosang felt pleased enough with what he glimpsed that he took his snooping to the front door. He held the door latch, peered through the window next to it, and opened the door.

The sun hit his cheeks in small ruptures as its rays tried to twist through the thick trees that blanketed and guarded the cottage. His horse stood without any sign of distress. Yeosang petted the horse while simultaneously giving him some of the berries that Yeosang took off of his plate.

The Prince looked around the exterior of the cottage as his companion leisurely absorbed the sun. The house almost appeared swallowed by bushes, shrubs, flowers, and a few potted plants. His slightly tattered shoes led him around the house. There was a small garden of salad leaves in their pots. With one of his hands brought behind his back, he leaned in to look further at the vegetation.

“You found dinner.” 

Your small voice only tapped his ears, but it startled him into losing his balance. He would have caught himself if she had not assumed he would crush the leaves and attempt to catch him. Your hasty moves caused your steps to be misplaced and she crashed into his hard, warm back. You expected to take him down with you, but he did not budge. Once you realized your face was not meeting the dirt, but rather remained on his back, you erected your spine back up and tried to ignore the wave of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry!” You frantically tried to smoothen the wrinkles on his clothes while avoiding his eyes.

You thought you heard a chuckle come from him. It would have been hard to miss it if his shoulders did not shake when he laughed. “I should be apologizing,” he briefly looks at the plants before switching to look you in the eyes, “I’ve been exploring.”

“That’s fine,” you assured. As he watched you pick up your basket, Yeosang wondered how he got so occupied that he did not notice your return. You walked back to the front of the cottage and inside without checking to see if he was following you. Laura poked her head up upon the opening of the door and right back down when she saw it was you.

“May I?” you heard him say. You turned and saw him, gesturing toward the rows of books you had on display.

“Go ahead,” you said, “there’s not a lot for you to do around here, unfortunately.”

“It’s quite alright, this is enough entertainment.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” You went back to rummaging through a cabinet for the items you needed to tend to the plants outside.

For Yeosang, the morning went by as quickly as the last chapter of the book had arrived. He noticed that you had gone outside, but not that the sun had already made it to its highest point by the time he closed the story and set it aside. He made an effort to inconspicuously look outside the window leading outside to the front of the house to see if he could spot you and not just a tall black horse. His effort was a failure, but his pride found another alternative. The Prince rose from the chair and walked outside.

As he pretended to walk closer to his companion, he got a much better view of you. Your hands were occupied with tending to the pieces of each plant as your eyes followed them with deep concentration. He saw strands of your hair spilling out of a patterned headscarf you used to protect yourself from the sun. From those same strands came a single bead of sweat that started from your head, down the side of your face, and past your jaw. It continued down your neck and that’s when he refused to keep looking further.

“How was the book?” You looked at him for a moment to see him looking at his horse with too much focus.

He looked over and tried to pretend to have just noticed you. “Good,” he replied. He watched you get up from the ground.

You removed your gloves and walked closer to him. “Could I– um–” She pointed to his bandaged arm.

“Of course,” he replied.

As soon as you were given permission, you took his hand with one hand and lifted his arm with the other. You inched closer in hopes of seeing more without having to move the arm any more than needed. During your inspection, from his height, he was able to see the natural curl of your lashes. The fragments of the sun made the warm glow of your skin more apparent. When you took his hands, it was a moment of cold clarity. He could not remember the last time he was so aware that he was touching another person as it was happening.

“Yeosang?” you looked up at him and were surprised by the lack of space you were giving him. It was easier to pretend that you did not notice.

He hummed in response

“I asked you ‘how much does it hurt?’”

“It aches, not as painful as yesterday, though.”

You nodded, gently placing his hand back down. “And your head?” You gestured at your temple.

“Feels fine to me.”

“Wonderful.”

The rest of the afternoon flew by thanks to the chores she tended to outside and inside, with Yeosang lingering behind you every step of the way. He offered help many times, but you denied his offers and told him not to put stress on his arm. Not wanting to be completely useless, he held a short conversation. It was when dinner was ready and Laura was eating out her plate that you both fell back onto the topic of where he was from.

“Forgive me for asking, but what’s the Palace like?” you asked. He mentioned working there during one of your short conversations.

“Um,” he thought for a moment as he chewed, “clean, I suppose?” You finally heard the sound of laughter not just from yourself, but from him as well as he shrugged. It was nice, and it filled up the house with warmth. “I’ve never had the chance to observe it all,” he said.

“Were you busy?”

“Many duties,” he claimed.

His responses were as short as the time you had known him, but they were getting longer, much to your delight. You wanted to ask him what his job was, but you were not sure if you would be poking too much into his personal business. However, your curiosity about the outside world fueled you to keep going. “Are those duties being neglected right now?”

 “Possibly.”

“I’ll try my best to help speed up your recovery,” you pushed around a piece of asparagus on your plate.

“Much appreciated, but I’m sure they don’t miss me too much.” He quietly appreciated your questions, because as he answered them, the excitement in your eyes never dimmed.

You nodded in response and continued to eat. You pretended not to look at him as he ate, but even in the evening, the dim lighting of the candles scattered around the house made his face look even more enticing. You saw him glance over to check on his horse outside.

“Your horse should be fine outside. Nothing ever comes by here,” you assured.

“It is quite an isolated home,” he realised.

“Yes,” you agreed.

It was quiet for a few more moments until he asked a question of his own. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. Can’t really remember living anywhere else.” You tried to pet Laura as she wrapped herself around your foot, but she then began avoiding your hand before skittering under the table to settle at his feet.

“Really? I’ve never come across here,” he said as his brows furrowed, but he nodded before going back to his meal.

The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the events of the day that passed. The current occupants of the house finished the day with reading. Once it was time to retreat into sleep, you were already fast asleep on the chair with your quilt and a book trapped under it with you.

Yeosang saw how shallow your breaths became and how supple your cheeks were when they were pressed against your shoulder that you used as a pillow. He took it as his cue to go to the bed he was given. He went around and snuffed out each flame in every candle with the tips of his fingers. He pretended to ignore the cat as she followed him into the room and slept beside him. He made the effort to try to rest by telling himself that this would probably be the only real rest he would get for the next decade.

The sun brought in the next day and he never remembered falling asleep or waking up. The stiffness in his back made it clear that he did both of those things. He wished that he was not a little disappointed that Laura did not greet him with her morning stare, but he did not take it personally. He simply put on the same shoes and hoped that he would find someone in the kitchen even though there was no noise coming from any part of the house. He made it into the living room and was met with complete stillness and silence. From the window, he could see his horse grazing. Once he made it outside, the sun was shining much brighter than he expected. He had slept longer than he had intended.

It was relieving to see Laura preoccupied with attacking insects, but one more person was missing. Amid his deep thoughts, he petted his horse and scanned around the house for any sign of you getting a task done.

“I suppose you don’t know where she is,” the Prince playfully said to the cat.

Later, a certain beauty walked back to her cottage with a picnic basket of her clothes in one hand and a large bucket of water in the other. You bid good morning to your cat and his horse on your path back inside the house. It was almost as quiet as you left it, but you did hear some movement coming from inside your old room.

He could already tell it was you who came back just by the gentleness of the sound of the footsteps that came inside. The prince already had a book in his hand, trying not to look flush when he saw your head poke into the room.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he made the effort to remember to smile instead of just staring.

“I’m here to change your bandage.” You came in with a new set of clothes in your hand and the other necessary items to clean up a wound. The various plasters you stuck onto his right temple were already removed the day before, nothing but a faint bruise was left behind. His arm, however, would take a bit longer to heal. As you took off his bandage, you forced your hands to not tremble, repeatedly reminding yourself to only touch where it was necessary despite how tempting the muscles of his arm looked. Once the fabric was completely off, he got to see the injury that was his excuse to extend his vacation. The deep cut started halfway up his forearm and to his upper arm. It was like a dark red serpent permanently etched on his skin. I suppose that does seem pretty bad…

“I think it might scar,” you said as you gently tried to wipe off areas of dried blood.

“I wouldn’t worry,” you heard him say, “… a scar isn’t too hard to get rid of.”

You nodded in hesitation and pretended you could not feel his deep brown eyes staring at you as you worked. “I brought you some water from the stream so you can bathe. You can wear that shirt over there while I clean this one.”

“Thank you, but I’ll heal just the same without you inconveniencing yourself.” His comment was genuine but had a mixture of disappointment.

“Well, it is my responsibility.” You tried not to seem entranced by his starless eyes as you both stopped for a moment to look at each other.

“Why?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders in response, ignoring the unspoken truth marinating on your tongue. It’s my fault you got hurt.

The afternoon with him in the cottage was slightly more talkative than the days before. He attempted to play with Laura as he pretended to read, skimming the same line over and over and over again. In the moments when he was not too distracted, he watched you complete some more chores around the property with the occasional insistence to help. You begged him to remain rested and even threatened him to sell his horse if he tried to help, but in exchange he let you continue to ask about the capital. His description of the palace brought shame to the books describing the same place. He was surprised at how willing he was to recount the layout of the place he had come to know well. By then, speaking more openly to you was much less difficult than he had expected it to be.

By the time the sunlight took over the country, he was intrigued by how quickly the days were being eaten by the cooperation of the moon and the sun. On his way to return the books that he took, he watched you begin to blow out each candle until the darkness flooded the cottage. Yeosang took the opportunity to retreat into his temporary room, in which Laura was already sleeping at the foot of the bed.

“Yeosang,” you spoke into the darkness. He turned around. You noticed how well his figure fit into the darkness. His ink hair almost blended into the surrounding shadows. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled.

It was a good night. He allowed his bed to swallow him much easier than the nights before, but you took longer to fall asleep.

The very late afternoon the next day was the perfect time to go searching for food in the forest. It was initially meant to be a solo trip, but the not-so-unfamiliar stranger refused to hear your request to rest his arm, tagged along, and promised to only watch. The walk throughout the woods was filled with the sound of shoes crushing leaves and branches accompanied by a pleasant chat. It was a few minutes into your search that she found what they were looking for.

“They’re beautiful!” You smiled and looked back at the tall man to see if he was just as happy as you were. He returned your smile with his own since he was amused by your child-like giddiness.

Without paying caution, she enthusiastically reached for the berries. He reached for your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself, but it was too late. A particular thorn right above the fruit sliced through your flesh much deeper than it would have if she had noticed it. As the thorn ran through your hand, parting skin from one another like a boulder spilling crashing waves in the ocean, blood began rushing out of her open wound. She knew better than to pull back her hand recklessly, knowing it might make the situation worse. He did it for her instead. He carefully took her hand and tried to cover the wound. 

The wound wasn’t terrible or serious in any way, but neither of you acknowledged that as he cradled your hands a mere five minutes later, the two of you sat on the sofa. His hands, though large and masculine, felt surprisingly soft. He wiped the spilt blood clean and carefully placed a plaster over it. Even after successfully treating your small wound, he kept your hand in both of his, looking down at them and absentmindedly brushing his thumb over your knuckles. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you’d been yearning to feel his touch more and more as the days passed.

A comfortable silence passed over the two of you, but minutes later a conversation came by naturally. If someone asked you what this conversation was about, you wouldn’t have been able to answer, for you were so comfortable speaking to him that you let down your guard, words flowing freely without a second thought. At some point, the two of you had moved closer. So close that you had lain down while he stayed sat, your legs thrown over his at some point as his hands tapped and caressed your knees.

You talked well into the night. Naturally, you grew tired, your eyelids drooping as you looked up at him, trying your best not to fall asleep. He caught on quickly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave your knee a brief squeeze.

“You’re tired,” he pointed out, “you should sleep.”

In response, you pouted and shook your head. “No, no. I’m fine. Keep talking to me, please.”

His smile softened at your words and did as you asked. The low baritone of his voice did nothing to keep you awake, soothing you further asleep. Minutes later, he thought you’d agree to go to your bed and sleep, but you only whined in your half-asleep state and pulled him down with you, clutching onto his sleeve but still careful not to hurt him.

And so he found himself laying with you on the couch, the two of you squished together on the narrow furniture yet it was still comfortable. You fell asleep much quicker than he did, already prancing around in dreamland by the time he finished manoeuvring the two of you to lay comfortably. Eventually, your gentle breaths against his neck and soft hand on his arm lulled him into a deep sleep.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - THERE IS SO MUCH ON RIGHT NOW, it's crazy-making!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

July 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 10 of 12 - I am with Dee, noodles do solve everything. The brothers were SO GOOD together. I’m getting to really love a back drop in BL, it’s like the mic drop of gay boys smooching. This is such a good show. I had a big grin on my face while also crying a bit. Everything I want from a BL is happening right here, in front of my eyes.

Did they gloss over the trauma a bit? Yes. Do I care? No. I don't like dwelling in trauma in general, mine, friends, online, or in my BL.

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) ep 2 of 12 - All Thai mafia is gay… again. Yes, it’s still great. No, I have no idea why they’re dropping so many eps at once. That’s not normal for a Thai drama. But I’m not gonna complain except there’s a lot on right now. I like the side couple too. I also like Frank’s poor little rich kid side dish action. I mean, Meen is an ult for me, but Frank is giving excellent second lead syndrome. Suspiciously aggressive and a touch stalker, but I don’t mind a boy that sus if he that cute. And of course, with the mafia involved there is kidnapping.

Look, is this the best show currently airing? No. Which is why it slid a little in the standings. But that's only because Wandee hit it out of the park this week. Frankly, this may not be the best BL airing right now, but it’s the best BL for me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 - That oppa bit was fucking genius. (You get it right? If you don't, I can explain.) And I immediately adore the secretary character as a result (I typed that as "reslut" and that works too.) Pleased to have such a "rich man and his spoiled boy" dynamic it going already. A dynamic I am personally IRL familiar with from the 90s. Also, kiddies stop filming adults at play! Sheesh.

I pretty much love all the couples in this show. It’s lots of fun. SamYo’s cat and mouse thing is delightful. Meanwhile, the mains are so sweetly hesitant about kisses and everything (hilarious coming from this pair). I love them and their awkward first time, or whatever is going on.

Do you know what? After that "oppa" comment this lead pair makes me feel a little bit like I’m watching a gay K-drama, similar style of personalities and everything, even the random martial arts ability. And the outing. I'm getting Business Proposal vibes. Nothing wrong with that, I was weaned on K-dramas.

All in all, great episode.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Yet again I spent the entire episode saying "poor Joe" over and over again. This time I didn’t cry though.

The pat way to end this is to have Joe walk through that door and then wake up back when he was about to get into the motorcycle accident. So that none of it ever happened. I suppose we’ll see what they do next week but I hope it isn’t that.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 14 of 16 - Do you know what this friendship group reminds me of the most? The old Love Sick music club boys. This is just the college version... 10 years later. (Love Sick was one of the few shows where I mostly didn’t yell “no singing” at the screen (also Ingredients). In my defense, I didn’t know any better back then.)

As boyfriends, PhumPeem are even more puppy/cat paring. And I am even more delighted by it. And them. In fact, this show is ALL puppy/cat pairings. I’m not mad about it.

"I’m hugging you so you won’t feel hungry" is the weirdest pick up ever. But Phum is weird. 

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 8 - The PittBabe team behind a new restaurant set BL full of hidden agendas and starring my new favorites SailubPon. I’m reminded so much right off the bat of PokeTongue’s side dish couple in What’s Zabb Man. Interesting, considering that came from Pon’s former studio. Love the call out of obnoxious content creators (not to mention corporate property developers). I like the chef character, he’s nicely complex. In fact, so far I like most of the characters, it’s a good range of different personality types. The plot is a little contrived and complicated but I don’t mind because the characters are such fun.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Reported on this last week already but here's what I said:

Gun still looks like he’s just out of high school. Madness.

The set for the print shop reminds me of Mork’s dad’s place in ‘Cause He’s My Boy? I swear GMMTV has only 3 sets.

I wasn't looking forward to this show at all. Maybe I just needed more of a break from OffGun? Cooking Crush happened yesterday.

Whatever, because I was absolutely riveted by this first episode.

I’m enjoying The Trainee a lot. Like, a lot a lot. It's not higher up just because there is so much good content from Thailand airing right now.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - Still a chaos muffin no matter which country. So earnest. So cute. Talking stage commence!!!

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - I got so bored I started looking up ways to organize my sunglasses. Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 6-7 of 12 - The exes are odd. I like that Latte finally got some backstory.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) Ep 2 of 10 - I’m still enjoying this quite a bit. It’s paralleling the manga quite closely, which is nice. But it’s not gonna be a particularly exciting drama if this continues. The manga is rather quiet (pun intended to amuse not insult).

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Look, if some kid followed me to college and changed the whole course of his life because I was nice about his dead bird? I'd be skeeved as fuck too. It's odd and uncomfortable, in that way Japan loves. Visuals are on point but can't say I'm enjoying it as yet. Still, it is JBL, and so I am intrigued and open to all possibilities.

It's airing but...

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I've put the search on hold for and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down once it ends?

In case you missed it

Blue Boys finished it run. I like it quite a bit. This felt a lot like a Strongberry short series. It’s very curtailed and could’ve used some legs but I've been trained into ignoring that for Korean BL. Short has always been their thing. Essentially, two boys who were acquaintances in high school are reunited and it turns out always had crushes on each other. It’s definitely an extrovert meets introvert scenario, and this being Korea, they can’t resist a tiny love triangle in the eleventh hour. But it all came out fine in the end. It has great kisses and higher heat than is normal from Korea. All in all, a surprisingly charming offering. Recommended with some reservations around the brevity of plot and character development. 8/10 

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases to Come

7/10 Century of Love (Thai Gaga) 10 eps - trailer here, DaouOffroad are back, this time as fated mates in a quasi historical paranormal moment. San has spent many lifetimes waiting for his lost beloved, to reincarnate from her death a century ago. But if he fails to find her within this century's time window, he will succumb to a tragic death. And this time she's a boy. Very much Director Who Buys Me Dinner meets First Love Again, hopefully better than both. I love this pair and think they can handle the premise, it's whether the storytelling is up to the challenge. I'm curious to see but I have reservations.

7/24 I Saw You in My Dream (Thai Weds WeTV) - Dee Hup is behind this one so I have high hopes. Younger boy chronically teased his whole life by the older boy next door suddenly starts having horrific prophetic dreams about his bully and must save hime.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great is a university student from Faculty of Business and the son of a wealthy business owner. Out of the blue, he gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: that premise! Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Product placement du jour! Also the only product placed in a BL that I regularly enjoy myself.

Yes I cried. I'm a sap.

The faens in the wive's positions! So cute.

All Wandee

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[mistresscitrusslice]

Why does the intro end with Jayce and not the sisters?

Pardon my shitty screenshots. I know I already made a post about the weird things in the intro, but there's even more that I didn't include in that post, and most of it is weird as HELL stuff with Jayce. This whole intro sequence has been weird as hell and I love it.

(I'll put it here since I'm not going to mention it later, but Ekko's first scene in the intro has his shadow as a clock ticking counterclockwise and I love it, but I won't talk about it again since we all pretty much know what that means.)

Last season's intro ended with our two lead women at each other's throats. That's no surprise. The whole show is about them. This one, though, ends with Jayce, a supporting member of the main cast. Matter of fact, he shows up a lot in this intro.

In my other post, I mentioned how his scene in the intro is eerily reminiscent of the moment he met Mel (other than the Council trial) when she shined a flashlight in his and Viktor's eyes in the hallway.

Could this be an indicator that he is once again meeting someone new who will change his life forever? Or could it be a reintroduction to someone he already knows? It could easily be Mel again, maybe after she's discovered and learned to control her magic? It seems like she wasn't aware of her powers until now. Considering how much the animators love to compare Mel with Viktor, it could just as easily be Viktor after he's gone full Machine Herald. They've already met again in the commune, but maybe they'll meet again when Viktor is more mechanical and Jayce is more... how do I put it politely... sane.

The light in front of Jayce's hand appears twice more, but something tells me it's a different light. Has the light evolved or is it a different light altogether?

This comes right after Mel on the lounge chair looking at the black rose and right before Viktor putting on the mask (we'll get to that). It is SO much brighter than before, less like a flashlight and more like a spotlight. Jayce's arm is more outstretched, too. It's less reminiscent of the hallway and more reminiscent of the moment he stepped onstage for the Progress Day speech. Bright, burning spotlights that he flinched at. Arm outstretched not only to block the light, but to wave at an audience.

The light and pose when he ends the intro also has these qualities.

I know it's a reach, but nothing is ever fucking reaching with this goddamned show.

So what does this mean?? Is it symbolic of the presence of magic in his life? Once a light in the dark, the path to success -- now burning, all-consuming? Is this another hubris metaphor??? I'm so tired of hubris metaphors. Let Man become God!

Seriously, what do you guys make of this? Because I have no clue. I have negative clues. Everything I see only opens new questions.

Okay, on to the Jayvik amalgam. :D

Who. The fuck. Is this.

Two pics since the camera rotates a bit and idk if the slightly different angle helps at all.

If you look at it from far away, the eyebrow ridge and nose resemble Jayce. If you peer closer, the eyebrow ridge looks more like Viktor's, but the nose still seems like Jayce. This person also looks to be at a healthy weight and has thick thighs, also qualities that Viktor unfortunately does possess. I want to say the hand also looks like Jayce's, but it's hard to tell. The lighting also makes it hard to determine their skin color. All in all, everything about this scene would suggest that the figure is Viktor except for the figure itself.

My gut instinct had me thinking it was Jayce the very first time I saw this intro, but then Viktor showed up with his blanket and mask later in the song and has been in said blanket for most of the show. The lack of purple limbs doesn't mean anything since the sisters also lost their tattoos, Mel lost her gold, and Ekko lost his face paint too.

And then we have this shot. Whose hand is that? NOT FUCKING VIKTOR'S.

That's Jayce's hand putting Viktor's mask on him. The hand looks like it fits naturally on Viktor's arm.

This could mean that Viktor will be wearing his mask because of Jayce. Partly in a "you see me as a villain, so a villain I will be" kind of way, but maybe also in a self-fulfilling time loops sort of way.

It's obvious that we're not supposed to be able to tell Viktor and Jayce apart in this intro. I even saw someone suggest that the animators made a whole new 3D model that was a mix of them both to be able to get the effect across. They might have also made one for Viktor with Jayce's hand.

This is basically saying that Jayce and Viktor are so deeply intertwined that they can't even be told apart. That's really ironic considering how different and divided they are right now. Could this imply that they'll end up back on the same side by the end?

[milkyboybluewriter]

The Disappointing Case of Wendy Corduroy

Wendy Corduroy has a lot of potential, but too often is pushed to the side by a lot of fans, and even by her creator.  But not for lack of trying, or an interest in the character.  In fact, Alex’s idealised view of Wendy may have been her greatest obstacle in receiving a story of her own.  Dipper isn’t the only one who seems to consider her ‘the coolest person he knows.’

Wendy was inspired by the first girl who ever spoke to Alex Hirsch, as well as several people the creative team thought were cooler than them. These were likely special memories or people in order to base a fictional character on them.  But that puts her on a pedestal.  And when someone puts you up there, it’s hard for them to take you back down.  Either for fear of ruining you or concern that, when others look closer, they’ll be disappointed in what they see.

He wanted her to be a main character (in the same way Soos is, if not Stan, Dipper, or Mabel) but in many ways Wendy feels like a side character.  She never receives her own episode, and lacks the character arc that even some side characters like Pacifica and Robbie received.

Her family, her friends inside the Shack and out, her physical abilities and survival skills, the drama of being a teenager, not to mention being a resident of the weirdest place on Earth.  All of these can lead to a hundred stories across the spectrum.  So why do people not write more stories about her?

Maybe it’s because she wasn’t given the opportunity that others had.  

As a cool, older redhead, Wendy’s main role in the show was being Dipper’s crush.  Which already puts her at a disadvantage because it means they designed her purpose first, character second. In fact, this is probably why she changed so drastically from her vegan-hippie prototype seen in the Gravity Falls bible.  Everything from her boots to her hat has changed since then, save the way she makes Dipper’s heart go faster.  

Most of her appearances in season one featured this one-sided romance and Dipper’s attempts to impress her, which usually resulted in a morality lesson about being yourself and not doing dumb stuff to impress others.  Pretty standard cartoon crush territory.  But between the episodes, a real friendship bloomed. 

In The Time Traveller's Pig, she gives an indifferent shrug as she casually agrees to go to the fair with Dipper, yet before her injury - and in the timeline where she avoids it altogether - she’s shown to genuinely enjoy his company.  A couple of episodes later and she’s outright excited at the prospect of working alongside Dipper at the pool.  They have regular movie nights.  They crack jokes and tease the Shack’s customers.  Climb trees and play at the arcade.  Wendy spends more time with Dipper than any other character.  Which means she must care about him more than she does the rest.

The crush might be one-sided but the affection is not.

But in the DVD commentary of Into The Bunker, Alex Hirsch, Matt Chapman, and Rob Renzetti mention that fan feedback convinced them to end Dipper’s crush sooner rather than later, even supposedly having ‘KILL THE CRUSH’ as one of their main story goals for season 2.  Understandable.  The crush episodes weren’t always the best, and if it was always intended as an unrequited attraction then better to get it over with rather than draw it out.  And it’s a good lesson to have a young boy learn, especially around twelve.  Love and puberty are relatable, but no less frustrating for it.

Into the Bunker is my favourite episode for multiple reasons, not least for Wendy’s presence in it.  She shows off her friendship with Dipper in the cold open, reveals her lumberjack and fighting skills later, and shows she would be an excellent adventurer.  I see it as a prime example of What Could Have Been.  I especially adore the ending, where she lets Dipper down so gently, it’s a beautiful scene.  As sad as Dipper feels, he’s also been told by someone very special to him that he’s very special to her too.  Maybe not in the way he wants, but perhaps in an even more important way.  

I had high hopes after that episode.  I remember thinking this meant she would develop beyond just being his crush, especially now we’d seen her hold her own against the weirdness and danger.  I really wanted to see more of this adventurous, sensitive Wendy we’d missed in season one, and wanted her to be a regular companion and friend to the twins.

Wendy appears in 16 episodes in the first season, and 15 episodes in the second if you don’t split Weirdmageddon 3 into two.  In season one she appeared in but didn’t participate in the adventure of key episodes like Dreamscaperers or Gideon rises.  In season two, she joins the adventure in Society of the Blind Eye, The Last Mabelcorn, and the Weirdmageddon trilogy, but has limited interaction or story impact in most episodes, save Love God.   She only has what amounts to cameo appearances in Not What He Seems and Tale of Two Stans, two of if not the most important episodes of the series.  

Including each of the Weirdmageddon trilogy, she’s referenced via Dipper’s lingering crush six times, including episodes she doesn’t even appear in.  So, after Into The Bunker, Wendy goes from being Dipper’s crush to…his crush that appears less.  

Wow, they really failed that Kill the Crush mission, didn’t they?

Perhaps the biggest issue is that she is so keenly tied to Dipper.  I love the Dipper and Wendy relationship, I could write a massive essay on that alone.  But it is such an incredible waste that she didn’t get a chance to interact with the others nearly so often. Every other main character has relationships with others.  Soos has a father-son bond with Stan as well as a friendship with the twins.  Ford was introduced later in season 2 and still interacts with Soos and Fiddleford as well as his family.  It’s a hindrance to her character that most of her interactions were for Dipper’s arc, yet she received nothing of her own.  

Wendy spends some time with Mabel, trying to help her with boy trouble (not the best person to get dating advice from, Mabel) in Hand That Rocks the Mabel and Society of the Blind Eye, then goes along with the girls to keep them safe in Last Mabelcorn.  This lets us see her affection and big sister vibes don’t end with Dipper, and should have been explored far more.  Her interactions with Soos and Stan are also limited, mainly to the workplace.  Her only dialogue with Ford is one line in Journal 3.  

Yet we also never see her be by herself.  We never see her home life, or how she entertains herself away from her friends or work. She's always interacting with a main character or her group of friends.  No alone time or personal interests are seen beyond pranks and reading magazines to avoid work.

We even get to see Robbie Valentino’s home life and musical hobbies, but not hers.

This lack of independent material has even continued in the Book of Bill where two of her very limited mentions is in regards to Dipper being stuck on a tree and another is his search history.  Even her own dream is made into a joke at Dipper's expense.  Ten years later, and so much of her is tied to Dipper, specifically to mock his feelings for her.  I don’t know if that’s more insulting to Dipper or Wendy at this point.

Speaking of dreams, let’s get to another issue: her mother.  Who we know nothing about.  In a show so heavily focussed on mysteries, the fate of Mrs Corduroy is a question that’s been left hanging since season one and we have come no closer to an answer of any kind.  Even a direct question from fans on both the Alex Hirsch and Bill Cipher AMAs were answered so vaguely they told us nothing.  She’s no longer with her?  A Fountains of Wayne reference?  Even the Book of Bill’s reveal that Wendy dreams about her most nights says nothing.  Are these good dreams?  Nightmares?  Memories?  The implication is that she’s dead, yet not even that has been confirmed.  For all we know, Mrs Corduroy could be dead, missing, abandoned her family, or could be working on an oil rig for the summer.  Your guess is as good as anyone’s by this point. 

We know she’s Manly Dan’s oldest and his only daughter, but we didn’t even learn her brother’s names until a paste up sheet was released in 2017.  She barely shares a scene with any of them, and when it happens it’s in the background.  The only exception I can think of is their group hug in the Fearamid.  A tender moment which would have been so much better if we’d actually seen her engage with them beforehand.  Her lack of interaction is especially jarring considering her confession in Society of the Blind Eye:  "Okay, I'm not actually laid back. I'm stressed, like, 24/7. Have you met my family?"

Not really, no.  And for a show that’s about family as much as it is about mystery, it’s a shame that Wendy is let down in both areas.  

Even side characters like Robbie, Pacifica, and Grenda receive more character development, despite their limited importance or screen time.  In fact, it was recently pointed out to me that Archibald Corduroy, Wendy’s ancestor, is more integral to Pacifica than his own descendant.  Once again, Wendy’s interactions come up short, including from her own family.  

With the release of the Book of Bill, some people were hopeful that she might finally get some attention.  I wasn’t.  Personally, I think Bill simply has a low opinion of Wendy anyway since he called her a pushover in his AMA, so it can be fitting he doesn’t mention her often.  But it’s also the context of these mentions, and those on the website.  On Thisisnotawebsite.com she’s referred to twice - Her one contribution is a simple note where she pranks the reader.  Then she’s mentioned in Stan’s list of embarrassing moments.  

Ten years later and not only are her contributions incredibly minor, but they’re as much to do with other people as herself, if not more so.  She’s supposed to be a main character but she might as well be a cameo.

Her lack of representation is so bad, that I realised my friends were celebrating her being mentioned in The Book of Bill.  That’s how desperate we’ve become for Wendy material.  And I’m sick of it.   At this point, I’m anticipating a Wendy story as much as I am Winds of Winter.

Last month I was discussing some of my writing ideas with my father.  And he gave me a very hard truth: it doesn’t matter how good your ideas are, if you don’t act on them, they’re only ideas.  And he was absolutely right.  It doesn’t matter how great these ideas are in my head, if they’re only in my head then what good are they? 

Hirsch has been saying for years he’s wanted to do more with Wendy, but he hasn’t. Not in the show, the comics, or the other material.  Intentions, like ideas, are useless if you don’t do something about them.

I honestly hate how harsh this sounds.  I love Gravity Falls.  And I love Wendy.  And I believe Alex Hirsch does too, he just…doesn’t know what to do with her.  As he says in the Inconveniencing commentary: “We wanted to honour her so much that we couldn’t figure out the right episode with her because we didn’t want to mess her up.”  He’s put her on a pedestal just like Dipper did.  And I think she needs to come down so we can see how awesome she really is.

So, what can be done to fix this?  Well, when creators don’t have the time, interest, or ability to do something for a series, that leaves the fans to fill in the gap.  

I urge other Gravity Falls enthusiasts to try and give her the attention and character development she sorely deserves, especially now there’s a resurgence of activity and interest.  Draw or write her if you can, have her interact with other characters, not just be a crush, explore her depths.  And if you can’t, seek out those who have or can and ask their advice, or thank them for their work, offer encouragement.  For Wendy if not for them.

I want to leave this on a happier note and say that I’m going to follow this up soon with another essay, this time offering advice on writing Wendy.  Even talented writers I admire have surprised me by saying they struggle to write her, yet I’ve found it pretty easy.  So hopefully I can encourage other people to write her too.   

But if I could summarise what I want to see and what I think will help people write Wendy, it would be this: She’s not just Dipper’s crush, and she’s not just the cool girl.  She’s bigger than that.

She’s Wendy Flippin’ Corduroy and she deserves so much more.

Cheers, Milky Boy Blue

[constantfragmentation]

HI FELLOW SILCO ENJOYER

What are your thoughts on the polycule theory of felicia-silco-vander? 👀

Whew... where to begin?

Fair warning, this is going to be a long assessment.

First off, I firmly believe (unless S2 Act 3 makes me eat my words), that the writers didn't realize Silco and Vander would become such popular characters. I don't think that was the plan. They were side characters meant to beef up the main stars Jinx and Vi. Rightly so. They were devised as parallels for Vi and Jinx throughout the story. And it was beautiful.

S1 was filled with little details that enhanced every part of the plot and character development through each act.

However, if S/V were so important, more care would have been put into their backstories, which have been kept pretty vague. And these so-called continuity mistakes/plotholes seem pretty big for a studio that has been meticulous in the details all through S1.

We meet Vander, who changes his life after seeing the kids lose their parents and adopts them. Vander is seen as the builder and leader of the Underground, and he seems to lead with the threat of who he used to be (until Sevika calls his ass out).

Silco is introduced as the mean baddie immediately via Vander/Benzo's conversation in E1.

"There's worse things than Enforcers out there. We both know that."

Then his full intro including an underground evil lair and mad scientist at the end of E1.

E2 leans into the same MO for Silco. Until finally coming to the best episode (IMO) in all of S1 and it's E3, where things come to light. But he's still evil, vicious and spares no one. Silco appears to have zero empathy and is filled with a deep seeded hate.

"Silco?! You animal! Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of!"

S1E1-3 Silco completely paints him as terrible from the Underground's perspective. Silco - bad. Vander - good. Both Vander and Benzo see Silco as a dangerous threat. So does the rest of the Underground feel the same? Do they know about what happened to Silco by Vander's hands? Sevika chooses him because she lost faith in Vander as a leader.

So, that makes me wonder if Silco WAS the brains behind everything from their smuggling business and building up the Underground to the rebellion. Vander on his own, seemingly, isn't shit. He is the muscle. WIthout the brains, he doesn't haven much in planning so he turns to making a deal with Enforcers instead.

By S1E3, we start to see beyond the veil a bit. Vander tried to drown and murder Silco. Let's remember one thing. Vander didn't just try to shoot Silco or they got into a fist fight and things got out of hand.

He tried to DROWN him. There's no way Silco went with Vander to the river fearing his life. Now, whether they went to talk in private and it got heated, you still have to sit back and look at Young!Vander and think wtf?

He is painted the good guy from the beginning. A man with restraint and compassion, looking out for everyone and especially his 'kids'.

It takes will and strength to smother/drown a person. It is NOT a quick death, it's a slow and painful death. Vander's intent was to kill him. Not once, did Vander think in the minutes holding Silco underwater that damn, this is wrong or overkill? You don't flippantly say "I'll never forgive myself" for trying to murder you slowly. Now beating the shit out of him and ruining his eye, yeah, that would make more sense from Vander, knowing he probably turned Silco into this worse person and fucked up his face, vision forever.

The viewer is left to assume it was something so fucking bad, Vander had to kill to stop it. Plus, Silco is already painted as the bad guy, so we presume Vander was right in trying to kill him?

So, what was so bad that this course of action was required? Well, it's pretty damn vague. In all of E3, Felicia isn't mentioned or hinted at ONCE. Not once. If Vander tried to kill Silco because of her, why do we not learn about any of it?? That seems like a pretty important fact, yes? This is Vi/Jinx's mom and she was a close friend? I'd say that's important.

Nope. Silco drags Vander to his lair and waxes on about fighting Piltover and finally realizing his dream of a free Zaun by any means.

Vander tells Silco he's never forgiven himself for trying to kill him, but nothing else is added to it? We're left to believe that Silco was either too powerful and influential in Zaun or that he orchestrated the bridge fight (that Vander was still fighting until the kids arrive and they see their dead parents).

This grey area is why the fandom has spent years trying to decipher what was so bad that it tore two brothers apart with attempted murder.

We learn in S2, Vander apparently "looked everywhere" for Silco and then wrote him a letter in a mine, hoping Silco might come across it. Well, if your brother tried to murder you, I'd say you would stay far away from him and not venture to old places in case he might try it again? Sounds reasonable, yes?

So Vander just gave up trying to talk to Silco and explain everything for YEARS? By S1E1 he and Benzo know about Silco and probably know where he is and that he's up to no good obviously. So why haven't they talked once in years?

Vander said he was in a rage over Felicia's death. But I'm sorry, none of that makes much sense and frankly takes the fire out of what created the fracture between two friends.

I would have preferred Riot not explain than give us a half-assed backstory of three happy-go-lucky buddies and the death of one is the backbone of hate, distrust and betrayal.

Again, Silco said Vander BETRAYED him. If they were arguing about Felicia and her partner dying, leaving kids orphaned, I don't call that betrayal. Vander's letter sounds like an argument that got out of hand. You don't just accidentally drown your best friend for the greater good because your other friend died in a fight ALL of you were fighting. You knew people would get hurt and/or die. It's reality.

It just doesn't FIT. It doesn't fit these characters at all in the narrative from S1.

Another reason I believe Riot never intended to go further with Silco and Vander's backstory is in the animation. Like I said above, S1 was littered with little and amazing details that we, as the viewer, have been analyzing for years.

The drowning was a VERY young Silco and Vander. Vander clearly has a beard and looks much older on the bridge in E1. The flashback in E3 looks like it was 10 years earlier at LEAST. That would be around the time Vi was born or a toddler if we're estimating her age by S1E1 on the bridge.

Vander beat the shit out of him and then decided to kill him by drowning. THAT is a major choice to make. That is a vicious choice. So we do see Vander as being more violent in his youth. So if the drowning came AFTER the bridge, that also doesn't quite fit either. He takes the kids and chooses pacifism, yet soon after, he's murdering his best friend. AND he suddenly shaved and grew younger, because he wanted to look clean and pretty before killing his bestie?

Zero continuity here. Bad writing. If there was mistake due to animation, they should have changed the backstory to fit than ramrod something else that looks badly done and makes zero sense to your audience.

Personally, I wish the drowning was PRIOR to the bridge battle.

It would make more sense if Vander was having second thoughts while planning the bridge fight. Maybe a separate attack went wrong and he realized they were going to lose and many would die. Silco, maybe having more influence or threatening to show Vander as a coward to the people is what finally triggers Vander to kill him. In order to stop this, Silco needs to die and then maybe Vander can convince others the fight is already lost against a superior firepower.

To kill Silco in that manner, signals to me, Silco was a great threat. Which means to me, Vander either felt he was a threat to him (since Vander does become the power in the Underground - the Hound) or he is beginning to feel like this fight is pointless and will change nothing. People will die for nothing.

Making it all about Felicia, just takes the fire out of rift between these two men all these years.

Again, she's never mentioned.

Silco even reflects in S1E3 that he still respected Vander after the drowning until he learned Vander was working with Enforcers and basically made a deal with Topside to keep the peace. That continues his pathway as a rebel and he's going to take down Vander with it or use him "what you really are".

Silco knows how violent Vander was and he's going to use it with Shimmer.

If we go by S2 timeline, then both Silco and Vander would know Felicia's kids well before the bridge battle. in S1, Silco would know who Vi is, at least and be aware of Powder. He would know this by S1E3 when he says "Have you heard the rumour? Vander the coward fled town with his children and were never seen again."

Pretty callous talking about his other bestie's kids like that. Damn. If Silco cared for her, then wouldn't he spare her kids? I just don't see this was ever about Felicia. It doesn't fit. He really didn't flinch in having Vi or any of the kids killed. HER kids? I'm having a hard time with that one.

I've said before that in Silco's eyes, Vi is an extension of Vander. When he finds Powder and she cuts off Vi as her sister, Jinx becomes an extension of himself, thus HIS daughter. It's like Silco's last "fuck you" to Vander by taking Felicia's other daughter as his own.

Overall, I hope to hell it's not some love triangle. Or either man was in love or had a crush on her.

I read some fans saying since the flashbacks are Vander's in S2, we're seeing things from his perspective. I'm all for an unreliable narrator with characters because it keeps things open for interpretation.

But we would need to see this from Silco's perspective, too—not just the drowning/betrayal. Silco sees this as a major factor in the direction his character takes. It's a life-changing moment for him.

We also don't see any flashbacks to the years Silco took care of Jinx after Vander's death. If he knew Jinx's mom, wouldn't that come up? Wouldn't that be something Jinx would remember and influence her?

In S2, she reminisces a few memories of her mom like nothing has happened since. She and Vi act like nothing really happened between them. By the end of S1, the sisters diverge when Jinx decides who she will be. It's Jinx, not Powder. She knows Silco loved her and, more importantly, accepted her for who she was. She was perfect in his eyes.

Plus, Vander's trio flashback seems odd in both animation and backstory choices. Silco looks VERY different than his flashback of the drowning. His hair is much longer (man bun), he has a widow's peak he doesn't have later (weird). He appears to care for Felicia and happy for her being a mom. They made him more physically attractive and older than the flashback in S1E3.

Vander doesn't look like the younger version in Silco's drowning flashback. He looks older too. Animation choices were made that don't match the continuity of the previous season.

We're assuming their smuggling business is doing well if Felicia talks about the Underground being much better for everyone. Are we still giving Vander full credit for that? S1 implies Vander built the Underground both from Grayson and Zaunites.

Silco jokes he is "Bozo #1". To me, he is joking but not in saying he's the mastermind in this duo. Without him, Vander's just a brute.

I'm not sure of Vi's age by S1E1, but maybe she's 10 or 12? So prior to the battle unless a fallout happened with Vander and Silco, why don't we see Silco with the kids? Why do the kids act like they don't know him? If they were such a tight trio with Felicia, why only Vander with the kids?

He fought at the bridge knowing Felicia had two young kids that could be orphaned and was still fighting when the kids showed up. He already knew Felicia was dead but was still fighting.

If her death was too much, why didn't he stop then? The kids appreance stopped him. Okay. I get that. But we don't see Silco anywhere on that bridge, does he know she dead? Is he still fighting? Where is he?

This whole polycule feels like they had to throw it in somewhere but didn't adequately explain it to match the motivations of the characters we have known and studied. It opens more plothole questions than it answers. It creates more problems that did not need to be there.

If Felicia wasn't that important to expand on last season, why do it now and do it poorly that contradicts characterizations already laid down in the whole previous season?

I'll say it again and again: Riot did not plan for it. They didn't think Vander and especially Silco would be so popular, and fans would demand to know more about them.

Plus, another thing that kind of bugged me:

When Vi is embracing Warwick/Vander and tells Jinx "He's your dad too."

Yeah, it's a nice moment, but it's a shit on Silco too. Technically, didn't JInx have more years with Silco than Vander? She saw Silco as her father (although not the best), accepted her, encouraged her skills, gave her important jobs, wouldn't give her up and called her perfect in his dying words.

I guess fuck that dad, right? He is evil dad and now he's dead, doesn't matter anymore.

Did anyone else feel like Jinx turned back into Powder this season? The kicker in S1, is that she CHOSE to be Jinx. IDK. The sisters were real quick to hook back up after everything.

As I've said before, they needed maybe three seasons if they were going this route. No character is getting enough time this season for good story-telling and character development. Too much is getting crammed in one season and it's sad because there is SO much story to work with.

I, for one, would watch another season of these characters. You could take time to explain the Black Rose and Mel's story. Ekko has nothing this season. Jayce doesn't have much. There's very little explaining and too many new questions that won't get answered in one season.

Vi became an Enforcer for half a second. Granted Caitvi only knew each other for maybe a week so for their 'relationship' to fall apart doesn't surprise me. But Cait bouncing back and forth. Jinx bouncing back immediately after Silco's death doesn't make sense since he wasn't the cause of her mental illness.

"Silco didn't create Jinx. You did."

Sister's bond quickly like nothing happened between them. Sevika is suddenly on Jinx's side with little work considering they disliked each so much.

Intro of a new character, Isha.

Viktor turns into Jesus and hangs out in the Big Bang with Sky. I was waiting for Machine Herald and got Jesus Herald.

Ambessa could have a better story but again, I think they needed at least one more season to flesh everything out. It's all too fast and packing way too much into one season of plot for so many characters. The sister's reunion is too fast. We don't get enough info on Warwick yet.

I hope, but they can't tie all this up in three more episodes.

Sorry for the mental vomit, but I've been thinking about this all week, and now it's out like verbal diarrhea. Even though I've enjoyed this season, I can't help but feel disappointed. S1 was so much better.

[changetyre]

Not like this (P3) II Charles Leclerc x Reader (Mafia AU)

SUMMARY: After losing everything you seek out your biggest and longest-standing enemy to finish it all.

WARNING: Violence, blood, mentions of death

A/N: This one's also short but I've been super busy and haven't had much time to write so this was the best I could do ;(

"For the record, I don't think this is a good idea" Charles spoke as he drove through the familiar streets at night, the two cars behind him containing some of his own men the only thing in sight. 

"You invited yourself so you don't get to opine." You refuted.

 "This is my car, you're carrying my guns and wearing clothes that I bought you I think I have enough reason to opine." Charles bit back. 

"No one told you to let me live...in fact, I told you to kill me so you chose that yourself-" You were going to argue. 

"Shut up we're here." Charles interrupted you before you could carry on. 

You saw him drive into a hidden road that led to your house which you believed only very few people knew about not including him. "How did you?" You turned to him as he continued driving. 

Charles smirked but kept his eyes on the road. "You're not the only sneaky one here." 

"Stop the car here, we'll have to walk the rest of the way if we want to go unnoticed." You chose to ignore his previous comment as you were coming closer to your estate.

You both got out of the car and stayed close to the tree line as you approached the house, Charles's men surrounding the other side of the estate in case they saw anything. 

"Why the fuck do you need this much land," Charles complained as he wiped some sweat off his forehead from how long you'd been walking. 

"More space more control, more people less possibility of someone entering without me knowing...more control." You once again repeated his own words adjusting them slightly earning a glare from him. 

"Well obviously that logic didn't work...did it?" Charles also used your own words against you but you had to admit it hurt more than you'd imagined. 

Charles noticed how you found no humor in his words instead clearing your throat to disguise the knot that intended to build in it. 

"Obviously not." You said in a volume that Charles wouldn't have heard if the silence around you hadn't been so significant. 

You were finally coming up on the house and your breath hitched at the bodies you could see laying by the stairs leading up to the main door. 

"Are they-" But before Charles could finish asking you'd already run up the closest body. 

"Oh my god Ava." You placed your hand on the woman's cheek who lay lifeless right in front of you. 

Charles kept a look out at your surroundings making sure nobody was watching now that you were in plain sight and luckily the place seemed to have been abandoned after the attack. 

You then quickly moved on to the next bodies by the stairs. "Elijah...Michael." You closed their eyes saying a small prayer hoping they'd found rest. 

"You knew all of their names?" Charles asked in a quiet tone not wanting to disturb the silence. 

"There might've been a lot of people working for me...but they were all family. Every single one of them." Charles didn't miss the way a tear fell before you wiped your eyes quickly. 

You continued your way into the house in the same silence as before not taking it for granted that you hadn't seen or heard anyone around so far. Inside it was worse than outside, with bodies everywhere it was impossible not to step on the blood that had filled the once-white floors. 

Charles let you take your time noticing the way you struggled to continue without at least sparing a glance at the men and women who only a few hours before were guarding you. 

"I'm-" Charles wasn't sure what to say but maybe letting you hear he was sorry for you would make it better except he didn't get the opportunity. 

"Let's go upstairs." You shut him down before he could even get a word in. 

Charles could see his men come in from the back door and signaled for them to have a look around downstairs to which they happily obliged. He followed you upstairs as you moved through the space with ease until arriving at what he would assume was your room. 

He watched as your hand dropped to your side, the gun you held almost slipping from your grasp as you took in the state of your once sacred space but even more so the woman who lay dead by the foot of your bloodied bed. 

It took him completely by surprise when you dropped to your knees in front of the woman and saw how your body shook with the tears you were finally letting escape. 

Charles didn't know what to do so simply stepped closer hoping you were able to feel his presence wondering if it had all become too much or if this had been someone truly special. 

"Her name was Liz- Elizabeth." You began. "She...she was like a mother to me and-" the knot in your throat stopped you for a second. "She helped me escape. She ran to my room as soon as she heard the attack and found me trying to get my guns to fight back but-" your tears increased as you remembered. "She told me to go. She said they could handle it and that I should go." You rested your forehead against Elizabeth in tears. "I knew what would happen and I still left." 

Charles wasn't sure what he was feeling but he had a sudden urge to hug you an urge he would've acted upon if it hadn't been for his men running into the room. 

"Gens arrivent." They whispered, guns drawn. 

"We have to go c,mon." Charles lowered himself to your level. 

You clutched Elizabeth a little harder before placing a kiss on her cold and colorless cheek and leaving her behind. 

"Someone's coming, there's cars," Charles whispered to you as he could see the headlights through the window of her room.

"Come." You took his hand dragging him with you. 

You entered your bathroom and Charles was convinced you had gone insane if it hadn't been for the fact that you pulled your whole bathroom sink and counter out to reveal a hidden passage. 

"What the-" He was impressed. 

His men ran through and ahead but Charles stared at the door in awe. 

"Hurry!" You whispered pushing him in before following yourself and closing the door behind you. 

As soon as she shut the door the dark passage illuminated revealing a long and dark corridor. "This is how I escaped." 

"You walked all the way from here to my place with a gunshot wound through your stomach," Charles asked as you began to walk through the passage. 

"Adrenaline can make you do crazy things." You responded not bothering to look back at him. 

"Why exactly did you go to my place?" Charles rushed to catch up to you. 

"I told you, I wanted you to kill me." You once again avoided his eyes. 

"If you wanted to die you would've simply let yourself bleed out" Charles grabbed your arm stopping you from walking. 

"Wouldn't have been an honorable death." You finally faced him. 

"The way I plan to kill you isn't either" You didn't respond and instead there were a few seconds of silence between you both before Charles continued. "so why?"

[beevvy]

Guys

I was thinking up some dark world forms for the lu cast and came up with some good ones plus backstory and reasons supporting my choices

I wanted to keep them all as mammals for the continuity (legends bunny and twi's wolf are both mammals) and its just easier to create limitations for myself to be more creative!

((and i tried to pick animals that existed in their original games,

But some games ( zelda I & II, I'm looking at you ) didn't really have any passive animals to choose from, so i'm following this rule only for some/most of them))

here are the results: ( warning: very long)

Twilight:

Wolf

(kinda obvious, no explanation needed)

Legend:

Pink rabbit/hare (he seems more rabbit/hare then bunny in my mind?) but i thought, what if i had to choose a realistic animal?

I think he would still be a rabbit, but an albino rabbit, his eyes red and with white fur, at least thin enough that you can notice a little pink from his skin to have a slightly visible pink-ish hue.

Time:

(ghost?) Wolf; i think being a ghost wolf after death, he probably still have the same form when he was alive too?

he never uses it in any game he's in (like Oot or Mm) other then Twilight Princess (taking place after he died)

I couldn't find any better leads or clues suggesting any other form, so I'll stick with this, maybe for a realistic animal he would be some kind of like timber wolf ( just a big kind of wolf) that is a golden/ light brown colour with white underbelly.

Hyrule:

(the idea that created this list in the first place...)

Sheep!; the sheep would have brown wool like Rulies hair, (my hc is his hair is curly, or at least wavy, like a sheep, but anyway) he's innocent and quiet like a sheep, and the main selling point: the blood of a lamb. Lambs blood was often used in (very) olden times, on an altor as offerings to God.

(also link in these games was originally religious ( specifically Christian), and the lamb is a religious symbol( Christian at least))

Hyrules blood is sought after by Ganons underlings as a way to resurrect Ganon, using hyrules blood as an offering / way to resurrect ganon, the reincarnation of a god, in a ceremony on an altor.

Wind:

Winds animal was a harder one to choose because there arent much mammals in his games, other than the ones you dont see but are mentioned or hinted at existing still even after the great flood.

Cats, think about it, he makes those cat meowing noises when hes stalking that girl at night in Wind Waker., so they must exist for him to know what meowing is ( there might actually already be a cat in one of his games but i never played phantom hourglass (😭) and haven't seen any in my playthroughs of Wind Waker)

Supporting facts to back up my reasoning: He was taking a nap during the day, even if it was his birthday. Big black eyes that are vaguely cat-like, and just the generally goofy feeling i get from him in-game and especially LU. ( HES SO SILLY AND CUTE AND AAA-)

Wild:

Highland Fox; sometimes people chose a deer for his dark world animal form, while i think it fits, i wanted his form to have more resemblance to Wolfie (who is in Botw, as a companion) sort of a cool representation of his mentor/guide?

Foxes and distinct enough but also close enough to fit the bill of 'close enough' (and foxes are more on the dog/wolf side than cat side, apparently)

Also, highland foxes exist in Botw + Totk, and the bright orange of their fur is similar to Wilds blonde hair, in its bright, almost unnatural boldness, opposite the lush green of the landscape.

Warriors:

Lion; fights in groups, lion mane is like his blue scarf, golden fur is like his hair, you know that like personified stereotype that lions are egotistical and self centeredness? reminded me of him.

sorry for the short answer, i don't know much about Wars, never played *any* of his games (😭😭😭) so I'm just going of LU, and the majority of what people portray him as in the fandom ( I DON'T OWN ANY OF HIS GAMES NOOO-)

Sky:

Remlet; Sky seems to like them, their native to his home, Skyloft, and they nap all day. They are cute and cheerful, and when their angry, they can be vicious and frightening, like Sky.

Realistic animal: Siamese, they share lots of similarities with remlets, their light brown and dark chocolate fur match and the bright round eyes are identical to a remlets.

Four:

i would've chosen Picori, but thats not really an animal, thats a whole race of small centient beings! so I'll have to go with a chipmunk.

Small, lives in forestry, multiple different colours, has a tail like minish, dexterous small hands good for holding things, smart, agile, and similar in shape to Minish.

woah. just let my acoustic ahh ramble for a second there.

[kepamount]

let me love you

mason mount x reader - one-night stand, smut and fluff

warnings: discussion and consumption of alcohol, brief mention of drugs, brief mention of infidelity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, praise and degradation, crying during sex, asphyxiation, overstimulation, i think that's it but pls lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 10.4k+

rating: M

a/n: hey guys! this is the first instalment of a new trilogy from the ariana grande series! the next two parts after this will be titled safety net and into you (after the two songs ofc), and hopefully it won't take me too long to get those out! this hasn't been proofread so pls forgive any mistakes lol. lmk what you think, hope you enjoy! <3

‘You alright, love? Can I-’ ‘I’m not interested,’ I respond shortly, not even looking in his direction as I pass by, following after Steph and Isla as they lead me through the club. We walked through the front entrance less than a minute ago, and I’ve already had four different guys try it on with me. They must really appreciate my skin-tight, tiny black dress, and the face of makeup I spent an hour doing.

The back room is cut off by a velvet rope, manned by four big and burly bouncers. They don’t even ask for our names or IDs, moving the rope out of our way as soon as we approach and letting us through without a word. I feel myself relax as soon as the curtain falls shut behind us, the music that was blasting in the main room becoming a low pulse in the background so I can actually hear myself think.

‘Benny!’ Steph exclaims when she spots her boyfriend across the room, forgetting about us and rushing over to him. I almost want to remind her that she’s here with her friends, but I can’t be annoyed when I see his face light up at the sight of her, his arms outstretched so she can fall into them, instantly dropping into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

‘You can go to your boyfriend as well, if you want,’ I say amusedly to Isla, the girl already making eye contact with Cal, the boy beckoning her over with a cocky head motion. ‘Nah, it’s girls’ night,’ she says, though she sounds completely unconvincing, and I roll my eyes. ‘Just go. I’ll be fine. Gonna get myself a drink, or five,’ I say drily, Isla laughing. ‘I’ll be back in a couple minutes though, okay?’ she promises, and I nod, watching her go and join him.

Most girls who have just gotten out of a relationship would feel shitty at seeing their friends and their boyfriends together, but I couldn’t care less if I tried. In fact, I’m relieved I’m single now. My ex was so boring that I can’t even remember the last time I was in the club, and it feels good to be back. I’m ready to get drunk as hell, snort some blow and then get a box of 20 nuggets on the way home.

‘Three shots of tequila and a glass of rosé, please,’ I ask the bartender, the boy instantly starting on my drinks as I get my phone out of my bag, checking through my notifications. I laugh to myself when I see that I’ve got seven texts and three missed calls from my ex. Someone must have spotted me at the bar we went to before this place and reported back to him already, so now he’s saying he’ll pick me up and take me back to his at the end of the night if I want him to. I’d rather crash at Steph and Ben’s and have to listen to them having sex in the next room.

‘Lime and salt with the tequila shots?’ the bartender asks, and I nod instantly. Tequila isn’t complete without lime and salt, and I think I’ll need whatever help I can get to stomach these shots. It’s been a while since I drank tequila that wasn’t in a cocktail, and I don’t wanna end up vomiting all over the boujee back room of this club.

‘y/n,’ a vaguely familiar voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Mason Mount standing there, looking heart-flutteringly handsome with his flattering all-black outfit, his perfectly trimmed beard, and his short hair long enough to tangle your fingers into. Not to mention his dark eyes that sparkle brighter even than the thin silver chain around his neck, visible where his top two buttons are undone.

‘Mason. Hi. Long time, no see,’ I reply with a smile, stepping forward to hug him. The last time I saw him, he was so slim, all skin and bone without an ounce of muscle on him, but he’s bulked up since, his arms feeling strong and sturdy when he wraps them around me. ‘It’s been too long,’ he agrees as we break apart, which is kind of him to say.

We’re more acquaintances than friends, and even that feels like a bit of a stretch. My best friends date two of his teammates, so we used to see each other fleetingly at parties or on match days, but we barely spoke when we did see each other, just polite greetings and superficial small talk. And even those encounters became a rarity after I got into a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, a player on a different team, and became a social recluse. Not seeing Mason for so long has made me forget how beautiful he is.

‘Should I give you my condolences or my congratulations?’ he asks with a mirthful glint in his eyes, and I can’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Congratulations, definitely. I’m glad to finally be free,’ I say drily as the bartender puts a wineglass down in front of me. I pick it up, clinking it against Mason’s whiskey tumbler, both of us taking long sips of our drinks.

‘I didn’t realise you drank,’ I say, knowing that Ben’s in the minority as a footballer who loves a good drink from time to time. ‘I don’t, really. We’ve been here an hour and I’m still on my first,’ he says bashfully, making me laugh. ‘You chose the worst possible spirit. If you don’t drink often, you’re supposed to have a vodka and coke or something. A drink where you can’t even taste the alcohol. Whiskey’s awful,’ I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

‘You’re an expert on alcohol then?’ he asks amusedly, the bartender putting my three tequila shots down in front of me just as he finished speaking. ‘Don’t tell me they’re all for you,’ he says with mild shock on his face, and I nod proudly. ‘I’m newly single and everyone here knows it. I need all the help I can get to get through the night,’ I say drily, putting down my wineglass as an idea appears in my mind. It's a terrible idea – the entire room will be watching if I do this, and it’ll only enrage my ex when he finds out – but the boy standing next to me is far too enticing for me to decide not to do this.

‘Can I borrow your hand?’ I ask innocently, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘My… hand?’ he echoes, and I nod amusedly. ‘To take my shots,’ I clarify, the boy still looking lost. ‘You’ve never done tequila shots before?’ I ask, Mason shaking his head, looking intrigued. ‘Can I?’ I ask, holding a hand out to him, and he nods, putting down his drink and resting his hand in mine.

‘So first, you’re supposed to coat your tongue in salt, so that it’s easier to drink the tequila. Traditionally, you put salt on this part of someone’s hand and lick it off,’ I say, running a manicured nail down the skin that connects his thumb to the rest of his hand. ‘And you’re supposed to lick the skin before you even put the salt on,’ I add, the boy raising an amused eyebrow. ‘Go ahead then,’ he prompts, victory unfurling in my chest as I pass him a lime to hold in his empty hand.

I lift his hand to my mouth, eyes locked with his as I drag my tongue along his skin, his pupils dilating as he watches me. I shake some salt out onto the damp part of his skin, licking that up too, my tongue stinging with the sharp flavour. I pick up the shot, knocking it back and trying my best not to wince, before taking his other hand into mine, lifting it so he can put the lime in my mouth, my eyes on his as I suck the juice out of it, the tips of his fingers touching my lips.

‘Bit much just for a shot, isn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, though his darkened eyes and slightly heavier breathing betray him, the boy clearly worked up. ‘People do body shots with tequila, which is even worse. Licking salt and sucking limes off different parts of people’s bodies,’ I tell him, the look on his face making it instantly obvious that his mind is imagining what it would be like to do body shots with me. I wonder which part of my body he’d choose.

‘Well, if you’re about to ask me if you can do body shots in the middle of the room, I’m gonna have to decline,’ he jokes, prompting a soft laugh from me. ‘I have more decorum than to do body shots in public,’ I smile, the boy grinning. ‘Only in private then?’ ‘Only in private,’ I confirm, both of us laughing.

‘Here, you do one of these. Not as a body shot. Just a normal one,’ I say, and he looks conflicted. ‘I’ll set it up for you,’ I smile, licking my own hand and pouring out the salt before picking up a lime, resting it in my exposed collarbone. He’s instantly convinced, a dark grin on his face as he lifts my hand to his mouth. He licks up the salt along with my own saliva on my hand, before picking up the shot and knocking it back impossibly fast, trying to get to the last step as quickly as possible. He slides a hand around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer and leaning down to take the lime, his lips brushing my skin so lightly that I wonder if I imagined it.

He sucks the lime dry, dropping the peel in the empty shot glass with a grin before licking some juice from his lip, my eyes zoning in on the action, my stomach tightening with desire. He really is a beautiful man, and I know I’ll be disappointed if I don’t go home with him tonight.

‘Gonna do your last one?’ he asks, not waiting for my answer before he sets it up, putting the lime between his teeth, a challenging glint in his eyes. Never one to back down, I lick up the salt, knock back the shot, and push myself up onto my tip toes, leaning in and taking the lime from his mouth, being careful not to let our lips touch. If he wants a kiss from me, he’s gonna have to be a big boy and ask for one.

The disappointment in his face almost makes me laugh as I swallow down the sour lime juice, putting the peel and the empty glass down on the bar. I’m suddenly aware of lots of eyes on us, whispered conversation filling the room, and I smile. ‘We got people talking.’ ‘Your ex won’t be happy.’ ‘Forgive me if I don’t particularly care,’ I say drily, sipping on my wine, and the boy grins. ‘Let’s give him something to be really angry about then,’ he suggests, and I raise an intrigued eyebrow.

‘Come home with me. I hate going to the club. Your friends have ditched you for their boyfriends. There’s no reason for us to be here,’ he murmurs, and I feel butterflies fill my stomach, so tempted by the thought. ‘I’ve only been here ten minutes, if that. It feels like a waste of an outfit, and my hair and makeup took ages,’ I say forlornly, and he laughs. ‘I’m enjoying your outfit, babe, and your hair and makeup. It’s not a waste,’ he promises, and I feel myself swaying even more at the pet name. ‘I wanted to get drunk tonight,’ I pout, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘I have loads of wine at home. You can take your pick,’ he offers, and I’m convinced.

‘Okay. Let’s say bye to our friends and then go,’ I say before downing my wine, the boy offering me his arm so I can link mine through it. He leads me over to where his friends sit, Isla and Steph part of the group, and they all try to pretend they weren’t just watching and talking about us.

‘We’re gonna go and get something to eat,’ Mason says, not even trying to come up with a decent excuse, and badly-stifled laughter runs around the group. ‘Those limes didn’t fill you up?’ Ben asks, Steph elbowing him in his side amongst more laughter. ‘Okay. Just text us when you get home,’ Isla says, directing the comment to me, and I nod though I know her and Steph will be checking my location anyway.

‘Look after her, Mount. I’ll kill you if something happens to her,’ Steph warns, Mason nodding seriously. ‘He’ll take care of her, don’t worry,’ Cal says, clearly making a dirty joke, and Isla hits him with her bag as they all laugh again. ‘You’re all so annoying,’ I sigh, the boys laughing even harder at that, and I just wave goodbye to Isla and Steph as Mason leads me away from them and towards the exit.

We have to walk single-file in the main room because of how packed it is, so Mason untangles our arms, clasping my hand tightly in his instead, leading the way around the edge of the room and looking back every few seconds to check I’m okay. I can just imagine the tabloids in the morning, not to mention the blurry photos and videos of us on Twitter and TikTok. The football world and the celeb gossip scene is gonna have a field day with this.

I can’t help the shiver that racks through my body the second we step outside, Mason instantly shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I don’t even have a chance to protest because the valet approaches us, Mason grabbing his wallet from his pocket, handing the valet his ticket.

‘You drove?’ I ask when the valet goes to get his car, and he nods. ‘So I could make a quick escape if I wanted to. I’ve only had three sips of whiskey.’ ‘And a tequila shot,’ I add, the boy grinning. ‘And a tequila shot,’ he repeats, my phone making several text notification noises a moment later. I get my phone out of my bag, unable to hold back a laugh at seeing that it’s Steph and Isla blowing up the group chat, clearly not as cool, calm and collected about the whole thing as they pretended to be before.

‘The girls?’ he asks amusedly, and I nod with a little sigh. ‘They’re freaking out. Sending texts in all caps to the groupchat,’ I say, the boy laughing. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t say anything when we were still inside.’ ‘Girl code. You have to play it cool. Can’t let the guy get a big head from thinking that it’s a big deal that your friend’s going home with him,’ I tell him, his grin growing. ‘Is it a big deal?’ ‘Kind of, I guess. I’ve been in a relationship for a couple years, and I wasn’t one for… going home with guys even before that,’ I tell him, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.

‘What about after your relationship? You’ve been broken up for a while now, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Yeah. Two weeks since we announced it, but I dumped him about a month ago.’ ‘And you haven’t… had a rebound in that month?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly, the boy looking satisfied at that. ‘I’m honoured.’ ‘You should be,’ I reply, Mason laughing.

The valet pulls up in front of us in Mason’s Lamborghini, jumping out and handing Mason the keys, the boy thanking him graciously which earns him brownie points. Seems basic, but when your ex was rude and arrogant, you appreciate a guy with manners. He opens the passenger side door for me, grinning at my thanks as I climb in, the boy shutting the door behind me before walking around to the driver’s side.

‘Connect your phone,’ he prompts, and I open my Settings app, clicking on the Bluetooth section and scrolling past all my saved devices to connect to his car. ‘Wow. How many cars have you connected to?’ he asks, and I let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. ‘A fair few. I’m a certified passenger princess,’ I claim, flipping my hair over my shoulder, and he just laughs, pulling away from the curb.

‘What music do you like?’ I ask, scrolling through my playlists. ‘I mainly listen to American rap, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘What’s the vibe, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy failing to hold back his smile. ‘Heartbreak music. You just got out of a two-year-long relationship,’ he reminds me, and I scoff. ‘Yeah, right. I was more heartbroken when I was still in the relationship than I am now,’ I laugh, Mason silent for a few seconds.

‘I know you’re probably sick of having this conversation but… what happened with him?’ he asks, and I let out a little sigh, clicking on my ‘gimme the aux’ playlist, full of songs that I play in other people’s cars to prove I’ve got good music taste. Playboi Carti comes on, Mason looking impressed, and I try not to laugh at how successful this playlist is at its purpose.

‘Our relationship got really boring towards the end. He stopped taking me on dates, buying me gifts, even complimenting me. We just spent all our time at home, watching boxsets and having sex. He became really complacent, and I realised that I deserve to be treated like a princess in a relationship, and not taken for granted or made to feel unloved the way I did. I communicated to him that I was unhappy in our relationship, and he turned around and said that he was too and that’s why he slept with the club’s social media girl,’ I say flatly, Mason’s mouth falling open in shock.

‘That is not what I was expecting you to say. Wow. I’m so sorry, y/n,’ he says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. It didn’t really hurt me, because I just wasn’t in love with him anymore towards the end. I felt disrespected and angry, but not upset,’ I say, Mason nodding in understanding as he drives, one hand resting on the wheel whilst the other moves the gearstick every now and then. He’s a sexy driver, completely relaxed behind the wheel, his eyes flitting to the mirrors from time to time.

‘Was he at least good in bed?’ he asks, and I laugh, surprised at the question. ‘He was okay. Not the best, not the worst,’ I say fairly. ‘Same as how he is on the pitch then,’ Mason mutters, surprising another laugh out of me. ‘At least he’s consistent,’ I say, Mason’s response interrupted by my phone suddenly ringing through his car speakers, a familiar phone number appearing on the screen.

‘Spam call?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Sort of. It’s him. My ex,’ I say as I reject the call, Mason’s eyes widening in amusement. ‘No way. You didn’t even change his contact name to ‘dead to me’ or something. Just straight deleted his contact?’ he asks, and I nod with a laugh. ‘For him to be dead to me, I’d have to actually care about him, and I genuinely don’t,’ I say, my phone ringing with another call from him.

‘Please let me answer and speak to him,’ Mason says, and I shake my head instantly. ‘No way. He’ll literally go insane,’ I say, Mason grinning. ‘All the more reason.’ ‘No way. Don’t your teams play against each other soon? He’ll probably go out of his way to injure you if you piss him off,’ I say, Mason scoffing. ‘Yeah, right. I could take him.’ ‘Okay, skinny white boy. It’s not worth the risk,’ I say, Mason looking at me with big, persuasive eyes. ‘I won’t even speak. I just wanna hear what he says to you,’ he says as the ringing stops, disappointment on his face.

‘He’ll phone again. He calls three times and then gives up,’ I say, Mason looking hopeful. ‘And you’re gonna answer this time?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Yeah, okay. If it’ll make you that happy,’ I say, Mason grinning widely. He waits, almost excited for the phone to ring, unable to hold back a laugh when it rings again. ‘Go on, then,’ he prompts, and I press the green button, waiting for it to connect.

‘y/n. Where are you?’ his voice blares out from the speakers, both of us wincing. ‘Fucking hell. Are you shouting directly into your phone speaker? Why was that so loud?’ I complain, my ex letting out an irritated noise. ‘Where are you?’ ‘In a car.’ ‘Whose car?’ ‘Mason Mount’s car,’ I say, Mason grinning at the momentary stunned silence.

‘I didn’t think it was true.’ ‘Who told you?’ ‘Twitter. It’s already everywhere,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, yeah. It’s true.’ ‘Why are you in his car?’ ‘What do you mean? We’re driving somewhere. Why else would I be in his car?’ I say irritably, Mason stifling laughter. ‘Where are you driving?’ ‘It’s actually none of your business, at all,’ I remind him, a sigh sounding through the car speakers.

‘I know, but… it’s just killing me to not know what’s going on with you. All the rumours and shit, I just hate it. First, you’ve moved on with Central Cee, and then, you’re getting a marriage proposal from an Indian prince, and now, you’re dating another Prem footballer? It’s driving me insane,’ he says, and I roll my eyes again.

‘You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me and taking me for granted. We’re done now, so you don’t get to ask questions about my life and expect answers.’ ‘Fine, okay. Just at least tell me if you’ve got a new boyfriend now.’ ‘I don’t. I’m single.’ ‘So it’s just casual sex then?’ ‘She’s hanging up now,’ Mason says, a brief stunned silence following his words.

‘Who the fuck do you th-’ ‘Bye!’ I shout, hanging up on him, and Mason and I burst into laughter. ‘Right, I’d better block his number because he’s gonna spam call me now,’ I say, having to reject a call so I can block him. ‘He’s insane.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ I mutter, feeling relieved when I finally block his number.

‘What’s this about Central Cee and an Indian prince then?’ he asks, trying his best to seem relaxed but clearly curious, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Cench and I aren’t dating. We were in the studio together for my next album, and we wanted WingStop, but delivery wasn’t available, so we drove to the nearest one and collected our order instead. People saw me in his car and the rumours started. But the Indian prince stuff is actually true. A prince spoke at some international relations meeting and mentioned wanting me as a wife in his speech,’ I say offhandedly, Mason’s eyes wide.

‘Wow. Have you responded?’ ‘No. How do you publicly reject a marriage proposal from a prince without putting yourself in serious danger?’ I say, Mason laughing. ‘What are you gonna do though? Just ignore it?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Pretend it never happened and pray I don’t run into him until both of us are married so he can’t bring it up,’ I say drily, the boy shaking his head amusedly.

‘So you wanna get married one day?’ ‘At some point, yeah, I think so. Not for a long time, though. I wasted a couple years of my youth being in a shitty relationship, so I wanna enjoy myself for a while now. I don’t think I’ll even start dating again ‘til I’m close to my 30s. I’m more than happy to be single for a while now,’ I say, Mason nodding.

‘Fair enough. Dating again when you’re… 27, 28? Then marriage a few years later. Any kids?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. ‘Definitely. I want a few. At least four. Two boys, two girls,’ I say dreamily, Mason laughing. ‘You can’t choose, y/n.’ ‘I can if I adopt.’ ‘You want to adopt?’ he asks surprisedly, and I shrug. ‘Maybe. It’s always an option. I’m not sure if I have the pain threshold to go through pregnancy, and the idea of giving kids who would ordinarily struggle the chance for a better life and better opportunities seems really appealing to me. Why bring more children into the world when I can help the ones that are already here?’ I say, Mason smiling softly.

‘That’s really sweet. I think you’d make an amazing mother. Biological or adoptive,’ he says kindly, my heart warming. ‘Thanks, Mase. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing parent too,’ I say, the boy grinning. ‘Our kids will be lucky,’ he says, making me choke on my own gasp. ‘Our kids? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy just looking content with his own joke. ‘Never say never, y/n. You don’t know what relationship we might have in a few years’ time,’ he says in a mystical tone, and I just roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, we’ll see,’ I mutter, Mason just laughing.

We fall into a comfortable silence, Mason tapping his fingers on the wheel in time to the Lil Baby song that’s playing. I shift in my seat, my dress riding up to a point where it’s barely even covering my crotch, and I pull it down, able to feel Mason’s eyes on me as I do so. I can also feel him smirk to himself, obviously amused at how I’m trying to cover up while we’re literally on our way back to his house.

‘Cold?’ he asks, not even waiting for my answer before he turns up the heat. ‘Your jacket’s keeping me warm,’ I say, pulling it closer around me. It’s still holding the heat from his body when he was wearing it, and it holds his scent as well, something fresh and expensive.

‘You look good in it,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. It makes the outfit, I think,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘I did think it was missing something, to be fair,’ I joke, his smile alerting me to the fact that he’s about to make a joke that he’s already very proud of. ‘It was missing the rest of its material,’ he says, and I gasp, hitting his shoulder lightly as he bites his lip to hold back laughter. To be fair, the dress is pretty tiny. The neckline barely covers my nipples and the hem barely covers my ass, not to mention the fact that it’s practically a second skin and it has the thinnest little straps that just about manage to hold it up.

‘Don’t shame me.’ ‘I’m not shaming you! It’s hypocritical to shame something you like, isn’t it?’ he asks with a grin. ‘You like it?’ ‘Yeah, I do. I love your skimpy little dress,’ he laughs, making me roll my eyes. ‘I had to wear something to give me the confidence to walk into a club for the first time in over two years.’ ‘You don’t have to explain yourself. Honestly, I’m just hoping you’re wearing outfits like this every time I see you.’ ‘I’ll wear it to your next match,’ I smile, and he falls into a thoughtful silent for a moment. ‘Actually… maybe not then. I’d end up shooting into our own goal if I spot you in the stands wearing a dress like this,’ he says drily, the car slowing down as he pulls into a familiar residential area.

‘You live around here?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘About thirty seconds down this road.’ ‘I’m literally five minutes away from here. I’m always at the Co-op at the top of the road,’ I say, the boy looking surprised. ‘No way. I’m always there as well. How have we never run into each other?’ ‘I’m glad we haven’t. I always look an absolute mess when I go, and I’m usually buying alcohol,’ I admit, Mason laughing. ‘Should I be concerned about your alcoholism?’ he asks, and I shake my head with a laugh. ‘It’s not that bad, I promise. I barely had a drop when I was with my ex.’ ‘Oh. In that case, drink as much as you want. I won’t even try to stop you,’ he grins, clearly trying to communicate that he’d be better for me thank my ex, and I just roll my eyes amusedly.

He pulls up to his house a few moments later, reversing onto the drive with his head turned, hand on the back of my seat. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not watch him, knowing I’ll probably throw myself at him the second I see him doing the sexy reversing thing. He turns off the engine, climbing out of the car and rushing around to help me out, grinning like he’s proud of himself for being so gentlemanly. He motions for me to lead the way up to the front door, following me up the drive and unlocking the door using the security system keypad set into the brick beside it.

I step into the front hall, slipping off my uncomfortable heels, my feet relieved at being flat on the cold floor. He flicks a switch beside the door as he shuts it behind us, flooding the room with light, and I find myself impressed at how nicely decorated it is. It’s also spotless enough that I can tell it was cleaned today, and I find myself unusually jealous at the thought of some girl cleaning his house. I try to comfort myself with the possibility that his cleaning staff are male, though the thought’s tinged with doubt.

‘Let me get you a drink before you start getting withdrawal symptoms,’ he jokes, stepping around me and leading me to the kitchen. It’s similar to my own, with a big island in the middle of the room, and I admire the furnishings, impressed at his taste in décor. ‘Your house is beautiful,’ I say quietly, not wanting to disrupt the complete silence filling the room. ‘Thanks. My mum helped me choose everything,’ he admits, making me laugh. ‘Well, your mum’s got good taste,’ I say, the boy smiling at hearing a compliment for his mum.

‘Which wine do you want?’ he asks, opening the wine fridge. ‘I’m happy with whatever,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You must have a favourite. Just come and choose,’ he says amusedly, busying himself with getting a wineglass and ice out for me as I look through the many unopened bottles in the fridge. I spot a bottle of Asti, instantly won over, and I get it out carefully, shutting the fridge and bringing the bottle to the island where he’s standing.

‘Why do you have so much wine if you don’t drink it?’ I ask, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he watches me pour out a half glass, dropping in two ice cubes with the little silver tongs he hands me. ‘So I’ve got something to give the girls I bring home after a night out,’ he grins, and I pretend to hit him with the tongs, the boy ducking with a laugh.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking! The wine fridge was already there when I bought the house, and Mum said I might as well just fill it up so it doesn’t look weird, and so I’ve got options for people to choose from when I host,’ he explains, and I nod in understanding, putting the wine bottle back in the fridge as he puts the ice away.

‘So do you do that on a regular basis? Bring girls home after a night out?’ I ask casually, Mason looking amused at my question. ‘Not regularly. A couple times. But I’ve never let them choose their favourite wine from my wine fridge,’ he adds, making me laugh. ‘I guess I’m special then.’ ‘So special, babe.’ ‘I’m honoured,’ I say drily, taking a sip from my glass as he laughs.

‘Can I use your toilet?’ I ask, the boy nodding. ‘It’s just down that way. Door on the left,’ he says, and I walk down the corridor he points at, opening one of the doors. ‘That’s your right, y/n, not your left,’ he laughs as I stop myself from stepping into a store cupboard. ‘Oh. I struggle remembering my left and right.’ ‘Clearly,’ he says amusedly, my eyes landing on something in his cupboard.

‘Wow, this is quite a board game collection,’ I say, Mason coming to stand behind me as I admire the three shelves lined with board game boxes. ‘I know it’s not why you came back to mine but… do you wanna play one?’ he says excitedly, like a big kid. ‘Excuse you, Mason Mount, but playing a board game is exactly the reason I came back to yours,’ I lie, pretending to be outraged by his insinuation, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, right. The only game you came here to play is an adult version of Twister,’ he grins, wiggling his eyebrows, and I can’t help but burst into laughter at the terrible joke, Mason unable to hold back his own.

‘What game shall we play then?’ I ask, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you really want to?’ ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of losing to me, Mount,’ I taunt, his competitive streak taking over when he raises a patronising eyebrow. ‘Can’t be scared of something that has a less-than-1% chance of happening,’ he replies childishly, and I scoff. ‘Put your money where your mouth is then. Let’s play,’ I challenge, and he holds out a hand for me to shake. ‘You’re on.’

And five minutes later, here we are. Two grown adults on the carpeted floor of his living room on a Saturday night in our clubbing clothes, two Guess Who? boards set up between us and my wineglass on the coffee table beside us, music playing from his sound system in the background. Mason’s lying on his front, legs outstretched, while I’m sitting with my legs bent to the side, keeping my thighs clamped shut.

‘Okay, shall I start?’ ‘Wait,’ he says suddenly, that mischievous glint in his eyes again, ‘let’s… raise the stakes a bit.’ ‘Don’t tell me you wanna put money on Guess Who?, because that is a low I’m not ready to go to,’ I say with narrowed eyes, the boy laughing. ‘No, not money. What about… clothes?’ he suggests, and I tilt my head in confusion. ‘The loser buys the winner a new wardrobe?’ ‘No, y/n. You lose a round, you lose an item of clothing,’ he grins, and my eyes widen in surprise.

‘Don’t chicken out on me now, babe,’ he taunts, and I roll my eyes, my own competitive streak appearing. ‘I’m no chicken, but it’s unfair on me. You’re wearing way more than I am,’ I pout, and he’s silent for a moment, obviously working it out. ‘No, we’ve got the same. I’ve got socks, boxers, trousers and shirt. You’ve got dress, bra, pants and my jacket,’ he lists off, and I bite my lip, feeling awkward about having to tell him he’s overestimating what I’ve got on. ‘I’m not wearing a bra. Or pants,’ I say quietly, his mouth falling open for a moment.

‘Nothing under your dress?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Right. I guess that’s not as simple then,’ he says, clearly trying not to laugh, and I don’t reply for a moment, debating whether or not I’m bold enough for this. And then I decide, fuck it. ‘It’s still simple in my eyes. I told you, Mount. I’m not a chicken,’ I murmur, his eyes darkening as he grins. ‘You’re sure?’ 100%.’ ‘Let’s do it, then,’ he says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

We start the most competitive game of Guess Who? ever, both of us aggressively tapping down the tiles on our boards. I win the first round, downing half of my wine in celebration as he pulls his socks off. He throws one at me, my scream as I bat it away making him burst into laughter. He wins the next round, and I reluctantly take off his jacket, resting it on the sofa as he gives me a greasy grin, bursting into laughter again when I lean over to swat at him.

‘You’d better pray you don’t lose the next round,’ he says, sitting up with his shoulders in a competitive stance, and I smile confidently. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to,’ I promise, and I’m right. I win the next round, managing to guess correctly when I still have six people left to guess from, and his mouth falls open at how lucky I am.

‘What shall I take off then?’ ‘You’re letting me choose?’ I ask, the boy nodding, lips quirked up in amusement. ‘Shirt. Obviously,’ I say, the boy laughing as his hands lift to undo the buttons on his shirt. Our eyes are locked together as he shrugs his shirt off, but once he’s shirtless, I can’t resist the temptation to let my gaze slide over his bare torso, muscles and tan skin and tattoos galore. Desire settles low in my stomach as he watches me admire him, a darkly satisfied look on his face. His light-hearted and jokey side is slowly melting away, leaving a very intimidating side in its wake.

‘When you’re finished… I’m ready to beat you again,’ he says in a low tone laced with mirth, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t bet on it, babe. I’m winning this round as well,’ I say with conviction, and I’m right again. It comes down to the wire this time, pretty much anyone’s game, but I manage to scrape the win at the last second, the boy looking outraged that he didn’t.

He stands up as I sip victoriously on the last of my wine, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pushing them down his strong legs and kicking them aside. I feel my pulse quickening as I look up at him standing there in nothing but his Calvins, a noticeable tent in them already. He grins at me as he sits back down, and I avoid his amused gaze, resetting my Guess Who? board.

‘Last round,’ he reminds me, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, knowing what’s coming right after this round. He doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to win, but my nervousness distract me from concentrating, and by the time he makes his guess, I’ve still got half my board up. I can’t even muster up the disappointment at losing, too on edge about the fact that I’m about to strip off my dress to leave myself naked in Mason Mount’s living room.

‘Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?’ he asks amusedly, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his elbows. ‘Too much to drink,’ I say weakly, the boy sighing. ‘y/n, if you’ve changed your mind, you can say so. Don’t worry ab-’ ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just… I haven’t slept with anyone other than my ex in the last three years. And almost every time we slept together, it was boring and never felt special. It was just a really dull part of our routine. This is different. I feel nervous,’ I admit, Mason chuckling softly.

‘Come here,’ he says softly as he pushes the Guess Who? boards aside, speaking in a tone that no-one would ever be able to say no to, and I crawl across the carpet towards him. When I reach him, he slides an arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me to straddle him, his bulge pressing directly onto my core.

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, y/n. We’ll take this as slowly as you want to, and we don’t have to do it at all if you decide you don’t want to. There’s only one thing I want you to feel tonight, and that isn’t anxiety,’ he murmurs, one of his hands resting on my back as he lifts the other hand to brush a lock of hair back from my face, butterflies exploding in my stomach.

‘We can play another game if you want? Or I can get you another glass of wine before you start getting withdrawal shakes?’ he jokes lightly, and I can’t hold back my giggle, the boy smiling at the sound. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, lifting my hands to rest on his bare chest, his skin hot against my palms. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I don’t want games, or wine. All I want is you,’ I say shyly, his grin growing. ‘That works out well then.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I’m already yours, babe,’ he murmurs, sliding his hand up to the back of my neck and pulling me closer.

My eyes slide shut as he kisses me, his lips pushing mine apart and his tongue sliding into my mouth. The kiss is sweet wine and bitter tequila, my head going light at the taste of him on my mouth while his hands roam up and down my sides. I slide my hands up his chest to the back of his neck, using my grip on him to press my torso against his, accidently rocking forward against his bulge. The friction makes me whimper into his mouth, and he groans at the noise, gripping my waist to press me down again, stealing the breath from each other’s mouths as though the only air that works for either of us comes from each other’s lungs.

The kiss escalates quickly, my hands gripping onto his hair as his fingers press into my waist tightly enough to leave bruises, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us moaning into each other’s mouths. His skin is so hot against mine, and I realise I want to touch every inch of it, my hands sliding down from his hair to explore the curves and ridges of his strong body.

‘Can I?’ he asks against my lips as his hands slip down to my thighs, tips of his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. I hum into the kiss as response, his hands instantly disappearing under my dress and sliding over my bare skin, pulling the material up with them. We break apart briefly so he can pull it over my head, throwing it over his shoulder as he reconnects our lips, my boobs smushed against his chest. His hands explore my completely naked body as I continue grinding down onto him, unclothed core dripping arousal all over his underwear.

‘Fuck, you’re so wet. I need to…’ he breathes into my mouth, lying back and bringing my body down on top of his before rolling us over, the soft carpet against my skin as he hovers over me. ‘Can I touch you?’ ‘Please,’ I whisper, his hand instantly moving down to push my legs apart, two fingers lightly swiping across my folds to collect up my arousal. He lifts his hand to his mouth, tasting me on his skin, and he lets out an appreciative noise.

‘You taste so good, babe,’ he praises, slipping the two fingers between my lips, and I suck on them gently, able to taste myself. He takes his hand from my mouth, replacing it with his own mouth and capturing my lips in a kiss, absorbing the moan I let out when he pushes those two fingers into me. He remains still for a few moments to let me adjust, distracting me from the stretch with a messy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing.

He breaks away from me when he starts moving his fingers, slowing sliding them in and out of me, my walls fluttering around them as I bite down on my lip to hold back any noises. His eyes are trained on my face, watching intently for my reactions as he presses his thumb down on my clit, my back arching up from the floor as my breath catches in my throat.

He curls his fingers inside me, a pathetic whimper escaping my lips, and he fails at trying to hold back his satisfaction at the sound. ‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, half-soothingly and half-patronisingly, his tone making me gush around his fingers. He’s trying his best to take it slow but he can’t resist increasing his pace, rocking his hand against me so his palm rubs my clit whilst his fingers move inside me, little moans falling from my lips every few seconds.

‘That’s it, babe, good girl. Let me hear how good it feels,’ he prompts with a small grin, replacing his palm with his thumb and rubbing hard and slow circles on my clit, forcing a desperate whimper out of me. I look up at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s still watching me, eyes studying my face as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my back arches up again, a gentle moan escaping my lips.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mutters, fingers curling inside me again, and I can’t help but clamp my thighs together, overwhelmed at the sensation. ‘Want me to stop?’ he asks, hand stopping its movements, and I shake my head desperately, needing him to stop but needing him to carry on even more. He grins amusedly as he pulls one of my legs up so it bends at the knee between our bodies, allowing his fingers to go even deeper inside me. ‘Fuck, Mason,’ I breathe out when his fingers brush against that spot inside me, and he curses under his breath at hearing his name on my lips.

I clutch at the carpet as his fingers continue to thrust into me at a ever-quickening pace, an obscene squelching filling the room. ‘God, you’re so wet. Soaking my carpet, dirty girl,’ he chuckles, and I let out whine after whimper as he starts to bring me to the edge. ‘You’re doing all the work now, y/n. Feels good, baby?’ he asks softly, tone laced with cockiness, and I only realise after he says it that I’m grinding down onto his hand, each movement sending gentle waves of pleasure through me.

My body squirms beneath his, walls clenching around him, and he knows that I’m close, his pace quickening as he whispers honeyed filth into my ear. ‘Close, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, letting out a loud moan. ‘Fuck, bet my neighbours are gonna come knocking soon with a noise complaint. But how could anyone complain about your pretty noises, babe?’ he grins, the thought of being heard only prompting a fresh wave of arousal that soaks his skin.

‘Fuck, Mason, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, feeling myself get closer with every brush of his thumb at my clit and every curl of his fingers inside me. ‘Gonna cum, babe? You wanna cum on my fingers?’ he whispers against my ear, and I just let out a moan in response, teetering at the edge. I’m so close, and then he takes his fingers out of me, my orgasm disappearing within seconds, and I whine, eyes filling with tears of frustration and desperation.

‘Don’t complain, babe. I’m not done,’ he murmurs soothingly as he moves down my body, pressing kisses my skin. He briefly sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, making me sigh in pleasure, before continuing down my body, pushing my legs apart so he can settle between them.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately burying his head between my inner thighs and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a moan of his name, fingers tangling into his hair as he alternates between flicking his tongue over my clit and slurping at my folds noisily like a man starved. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to build up again, and I fall over the edge when he pushes his tongue inside me, his nose pressing against my clit.

My vision goes blurry as I moan out loudly, fingers gripping onto his soft locks for any form of stability as the pleasure crashes through my body in strong waves, my limbs tense and tight. As my orgasm subsides, my body goes slack beneath him, and he takes it upon himself to continue eating me out. I whine at the overstimulation, body squirming as he sucks and flicks my clit whilst thrusting one finger into me.

‘Mase, I can’t. It’s too much,’ I whimper between moans, tears steadily running down my face, and when he finally gives me reprieve, I let out a long sigh of relief, a dark grin on his face as he sits up on his knees. ‘You’re not done already, are you, babe? Haven’t even let me fuck you yet,’ he murmurs, slipping a hand into his Calvins and touching himself, my core flooding with arousal at the sight.

I sit up, pulling his underwear down just enough to free his cock, mouth-watering at the sight of it. I can’t resist from leaning down and sucking the head between my lips, his salty pre-cum coating my tongue. ‘As much as I’d love to feel your mouth right now, babe, I’d love to be inside you even more. Gonna let me fuck you?’ he asks as I sit up, and I nod shyly, his grin growing.

‘Let me grab a condom from ups-’ ‘No, don’t. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,’ I say, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Are you clean?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Then, yeah, I’m sure. I wanna feel you raw,’ I breathe out, his pupils blown out completely with lust. ‘Fuck. Yeah. Okay, then. How d’you want it?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. Missionary’s always been my favourite – I’m a simple girl – but for a one-night stand with a friend of a friend, it feels a bit too intimate. The last thing I need is to stare into his pretty eyes while he fucks me. I’ll end up falling in love.

‘From behind,’ I murmur quietly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he grins, making me question if I’m imagining it. ‘Get on your hands and knees for me, babe,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, anticipating his touch on me. And then he smacks my ass harshly, making me let out a pained yelp, before he rubs the area soothingly.

‘This is fucking perfect,’ he mutters, groping my ass cheeks like a horny teenage boy, and I push back into him, needing him to fuck me. ‘Okay, okay, I get the hint,’ he laughs, his hands disappearing from my ass a moment later. I let out a moan the second I feel him running the head of his cock down my folds, another escaping my lips when he begins pushing into me.

‘Good girl. That’s a good girl,’ he says, voice soft and soothing as he slowly sinks into me, the slightly painful stretch tearing a sob from my throat, and he rubs my back soothingly as he bottoms out. ‘Feels so big,’ I whimper, and he chuckles lightly, his ego obviously inflated. ‘You’re taking it so well, babe,’ he praises as he stays still inside me, allowing me to adjust. ‘Please, Mason, move,’ I plead, and his hands stop rubbing, gripping my waist instead. ‘Sure?’ he asks, though I can feel that he’s practically itching to fuck me. ‘Yes, need you,’ I breathe out, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer.

He pulls out before slamming back in, winding me. He’s ruthless, pounding into me so hard that his balls slap against my thighs, hands digging into my waist, both our skin damp with sweat. My head falls forward, and he leans over to grab my hair in one hand, tugging it to hold my head up, the pull only slightly painful. He fucks into me, hard, with no restraint, my head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, my moans projecting around the room. ‘Does my pretty baby like being fucked like this?’ he asks, the pet name making me gush, and my moans seem to be answer enough for him, a strained chuckle falling from his lips.

He props one foot up on the floor, allowing him to hammer into me at a bruising pace, cock filling me up completely, having me completely blissed out. ‘You take it so well, babe. So well. You take it like such a good little slut,’ he breathes out between grunts, and it’s heart-stopping, toe-curling, tear-inducing, the way he’s fucking me, so good I can’t think of anything but him, and how fucking amazing this feels.

My arms give way before I can realise how much they’re aching, and I fall face first into the carpet. ‘Shit, baby, I’m sorry. Are you tired?’ he asks gently, his cock stilling inside me, and I try to lift myself back up, desperate to feel him again. He slips an arm around my stomach and, at first, I think he’s just trying to help me back into position but, instead, he pulls me all the way up so my back is pressed to his front, my body weight resting partially on my knees but mainly on him.

He continues fucking into me in this new position, but at an agonisingly slow pace. He rocks into me, cock dragging against my walls leisurely, and I can feel it even more like this, can feel every inch filling me up and stretching me out. I let out a loud moan of his name and he slips two fingers into my mouth to shut me up.

‘You’re so loud, babe. Gonna have the neighbours knocking on the door, but I don’t wanna rush. Wanna take my time with you. Isn’t that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and slow?’ he murmurs against my ear, and I let out a garbled moan around his fingers, my wetness dripping down my own thighs.

He takes the sound as a yes, grinning against my neck as he fucks me deep, and I whimper and whine around his fingers as he lets out sinfully soft grunts and groans against my skin. He brings a hand to rest at the base of my neck, fingers still in my mouth. ‘Feels good?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod as my eyes roll back, a little laugh falling from his lips.

His hand around my neck tightens, cutting off my airways slightly, and I let out an unintelligible string of curses around his fingers, my breathing quickly becoming laboured. I clench around him sporadically, quickly feeling my high approaching, and he can feel it too, keeping his torturous pace with a smirk pressed to the side of my throat.

He releases my neck after a few moments and I gasp for air, my inhale cut off when he puts a hand on my forehead and pulls my head back far enough for us to make eye contact, his face just as handsome upside down. His eyes are dark, skin flushed, and hair pasted down to his forehead with sweat.

‘Fuck, you’re so pretty, babe. This body is so perfect. So beautiful, and so good for me, with your pretty noises. My pretty baby,’ he murmurs, my body weakening and my heart skipping beats at all the praise. I’m so close, but I just need more – his pace is mind-blowing, and the dirty talk has butterflies going wild in my stomach, but it’s not enough to push me over the edge.

‘Faster, Mase,’ I mumble around his fingers, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘You’re crying, babe. You can’t even handle this, and you want it faster?’ he chuckles before complying, pounding into me hard enough that the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, filling my ears along with the sounds escaping my lips. He slips his fingers out of my mouth, reaching down to rub at my clit in circles fast enough to match his thrusts, and I’m hurtling towards my orgasm.

‘Close, babe? Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, it’s gonna feel so good,’ he breathes against my ear, one hand groping my boobs whilst the other keeps a steady pace at my clit, and the mixture of all the different sensations whilst he whispers filth in my ear makes me hit my high, my mouth falling open in a silent scream before letting out a moan of his name.

My walls clamp down around him so tightly that he can’t even move, so he keeps rubbing my clit to get me through my orgasm, murmuring praise and encouragement in my ear before pressing soft kisses to my skin. When I start coming down from my high and my walls loosen around him, he pushes me down so I’m resting on my elbows, his hands gripping onto my waist. He pounds into me, chasing his own orgasm, and it washes over him within a few seconds, the sexiest moan of my name falling from his lips as he fills me up with his cum.

For a long few seconds, the quiet music and our heavy breathing are the only noises in the room, and I take a while to try and compose myself with my head resting on the carpet. ‘You okay, babe?’ Mason asks breathlessly as he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, and I turn over to look up at him, nodding with a small smile. He grins at me, pushing my legs apart to watch his cum drip out of me, eyes trained on my face as he collects it up with two fingers and pushes It back into me. I try to say his name reprimandingly, but it comes out as a moan, and he chuckles as I push his hand away.

‘Come on. Let’s… get you cleaned up,’ he says, easily lifting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room bridal-style. He takes me up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, putting me down gently on the bed. He puts on a lamp and disappears into what probably is an en suite bathroom, coming back with a damp towel a few seconds later.

‘Your house… really is lovely,’ I say through a yawn as he cleans me up with the towel, wiping up all the sweat on my skin, the saliva around my mouth and the cum between my legs. ‘After what just happened, you’re thinking about my décor?’ he laughs, and I roll my eyes. ‘I mean, to be fair, my head was in your carpet, and it was very soft, so…’ I say, trying to keep a straight face but unable to hold back my giggle when he bursts out laughing.

‘Do you want some clothes? A t-shirt or a hoodie? And you can borrow some of my boxers if you want underwear,’ he offers, and I laugh. ‘I’ll sleep like this. If you don’t mind,’ I add afterwards, though the look on his face clearly shows that he really doesn’t mind at all. ‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ he grins, getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom again. I stare at the ceiling, already getting flashbacks about what just happened, feeling myself getting wet again. I’m praying he doesn’t have training early tomorrow because I need him again in the morning.

I listen to what he’s doing, hearing the tap running and then shutting off a little while later before he comes back into the room. I listen to him leave, his footsteps going down the stairs, light switches being flicked and the music being turned off before his footsteps come back up and he steps into the room. I look over, the boy grinning at me. He’s wearing new underwear and looking fresher, like he’s splashed water on his face and combed his hair. He climbs into the bed beside me, sitting with his head resting against the headboard, back on the pillow. I move to lie in the circle of his arm, my head on his chest, and I can hear his heart beating through his skin.

‘So… gonna let me take you on a date?’ he asks suddenly, and I don’t react for a few seconds. ‘Um… no way.’ ‘No?’ he asks, sounding surprised, and I sigh. ‘Nope. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship anytime soon,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘A date doesn’t equal a relationship, y/n,’ he says, and I lift my head to look up at him, arms resting across his chest.

‘Yeah, but one date with me is all it would take for you to fall in love,’ I say as though it’s obvious, and he nods amusedly. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ ‘Yes. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to deal with someone being in love with right now,’ I say dramatically, though we both know I’m speaking the truth, and he just nods thoughtfully.

‘Okay. If you don’t want me to love you, then at least let me… love you,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘You mean physically instead of emotionally, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yeah. Let’s turn this into a thing. No strings attached and all of that,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I’d wanna do this again?’ I ask jokingly, and he clutches his chest like he’s hurt. ‘Your moans and your crying made me think you’d wanna do it again,’ he says, and I cover my face in embarrassment, the boy laughing.

‘Okay, yeah. We can turn this into a thing. You just have to promise me that you’re happy with this not being serious, that you won’t let any feelings get involved.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise me you won’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise m-’ ‘y/n!’ he laughs, ‘we’re gonna be friends-with-benefits. Nothing more. I promise. Okay?’ he says, and I nod amusedly, putting my head back down on his chest. He strokes my hair gently as I trace lines over his abs and, before I know it, I’m drifting off, the steady beat of his heart lulling me into sleep.