#paper if he locked in tbh

[puppyrelp]

i made this before ii18

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.

wc: 26.7k; warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smoking cigarettes, negative attitudes about smoking, quitting smoking; mentions of misogyny in South Korea; slow burn; constant bickering, tbh; smut (fem reader, striptease (?), heavy making out, scratching, penetrative sex, he puts his hand over her mouth and she licks it, multiple orgasms, handjob, fingering); non-idol!AU - smoker, pining, bratty!JK x cold, independent, insomniac!reader; reader's POV

--

“Got a light?”

You reached in your pocket and pulled out the lighter that you always kept on you. It had a dragon insignia etched into the black metal. Heavy and substantial. Serious enough to bruise if thrown with enough force. You flicked it open with your thumb and raised it.

Jeon Jungkook leaned in, holding a cigarette between his lips expectantly.

You made your distaste evident in your expression.

He smirked.

You pressed the button and the orange flame shot up. Burning paper and tobacco. The end of the cigarette glowed red. You pulled your hand away, flicking your wrist to extinguish the flame. Slipped it back into your pocket and resumed not looking at him. You heard him inhale with a satisfied sigh before bleeding out smoke to the sky.

“You smoke too?”

“Fuck no,” you snapped. “I’m not disgusting.”

There was a sharp sucking sound of Jungkook’s incredulous annoyance. “Hm. Then the lighter’s just for me, huh?” His voice was throaty with nicotine. You hadn’t moved away yet. He nudged your shoulder with his knuckles. You didn’t react. “You like me that much?”

You could smell the fumes in the air even though he was attempting to be careful about it. That was the thing about smoke. It got everywhere. A gaseous parasite. You didn’t reply. Instead, you stuck your hands in your denim jacket pockets and acted as if he wasn’t there. Predictably, not a single person looked your way, even with your pleated blue plaid miniskirt was grazing the bottom of your ass and your black pleather corset showing off the ample curve of your breasts.

No one wanted to deal with the big tattooed guard dog smoking just behind you.

He was trying to stand close but not too close. You wondered if Jungkook was aware of how much subtilty he lacked. He likely had no clue. He called your name, casually, desperate for some sort of attention.

“Just say it.”

You turned your head maybe an iota of a degree in his direction, glaring at him from under your black baseball cap. Seething.

“The lighter is not for you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His lips twisted into a pout. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair which definitely worked on other people. Just not you. He held the lit cigarette away from you, and so you spared him a little more of your gaze, pivoting your black boot to view him at an angle.

“You’re lying,” he asserted with false confidence. “You’ve always got it when I ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean that it’s for you. Could be for someone else.”

This revelation did not pacify him. The opposite, actually. His brows knitted together. The corner of your lips ticked upward. This pissed him off even more as you seemed to imply scenarios that he very much did not like. You were curious on what how he would approach it.

“Yeah, right. Sure.” He took a quick drag and blew it towards the sky. His dark eyes locked on you. He called your bluff. “You don’t like smoking. There’s no way you would hang out with anyone else who does. You already told me that’s the reason we’re not dating.” Uncertainty etched into his stern expression. “… Right?”

You tilted your head at him.

You watched your silence infuriate Jungkook. He puffed up his chest a little, which was admittedly impressive even in his oversized black t-shirt. He had big pectoral muscles. He had picked up working out to add an addiction in attempt to subtract one. He did smoke less in your presence. But not zero.

“Right?”

He was being very demanding and prissy right now.

You pursed your lips and sucked on the side of your teeth. Then you said, “Yup. That’s the only reason.”

Despair ghosted over his features. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. There was slightly more than three-fourths left. His eyes went from you to the concrete sidewalk and then back again. You frowned.

“Don’t even think about littering,” you warned.

He clicked his tongue and flicked ash behind him. “So? Who is it?”

“Who is who?” You taunted back in the same irked tone, minus the underlying insecurity.

“The other person you’re cheating on me with,” Jungkook snapped.

You weren’t bothered by his fury. “I’m not cheating on you if you’re not my boyfriend to begin with.”

He shot you a look that could have scalded most. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“Tch, then be my girlfriend and take them from me.”

“Not how this works,” you countered, shifting your stance away from him. Slight panic flashed over his features. You ignored it. “My bus is coming soon.”

“Ugh,” he tutted. “I hate that you go to concerts alone.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend your money on smokes, you could join me.”

“I asked,” he growled. “I have the money. You said no.”

You sent him a soulless smile. “Because you smoke.”

Jungkook looked ready to put out the cigarette on his own arm. But you were already backing away. He half-followed, still talking.

“You’re going dressed like that? You’re going to get groped.”

You did your best to not call him stupid. You settled for an eye-roll. “Why do you think I stuck around after you asked for a light?” You stopped. So did he, avoiding closeness. He looked confused. “Men stay away from me when they smell smoke on my clothes. Either I smoke or I’ve got a boyfriend who does. Either way, not attractive.”

He flinched at your double-edged comment. Then, with a measured amount of bravery, Jungkook took a step forward and tapped your chest with his hand that held the cigarette. You made a displeased face. A tendril of smoke drifted upwards for the suspended second that he held his fingertips to your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him. He backed up, lifting both hands up in defeat. He licked his lower lip, looking down at you.

“If the lighter’s not for me, then what’s it for?”

There was a metal screech of heavy brakes behind you, closer to the street.

You glared up at him, wishing he picked better addictions.

Only time could tell.

“Arson,” you replied, and turned around to step onto the bus, leaving Jungkook alone once again. He would tire of it soon enough.

-

You scowled.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

The crowd was parting as you were heading to the train station. Just before you were meant to enter, a man approached you with a plastic bag and a bottle of water. He looked almost as aggravated as you felt. His hands were occupied so for once he couldn’t ask for a light.

“Is that any way to greet someone waiting for you?” Jeon Jungkook growled.

You were far from impressed. “Did I ask you to wait for me?” You answered yourself. “No, I didn’t. So, you’re the stalker here.”

His dark eyes shifted over the passerby you had no interest in. He looked back at you with a peeved expression. “Better me than an actual creep.”

“Spoiler alert: you are an actual creep.”

You kept your distance, wary, and made to walk around him. Something flashed in his gaze but he shut his eyes and sucked in the side of his cheek with a sharp sound. His body turned, semi-following you. You noticed he was wearing a black leather jacket, a different cream shirt, and dark olive cargo pants. Same black sneakers from earlier though. His black hair seemed faintly damp. He must have taken a shower. Perhaps he went to work out while you were gone for hours.

“At least take the water and food,” Jungkook scoffed, holding out the items. “You’re probably dehydrated and hungry. Don’t your feet hurt from standing so long?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.”

You stopped and stared him down. He rolled his eyes. He seemed hurt. It didn’t matter if he was avoiding your gaze; you could tell. There was no reason to soften your tone, but at the very least you reached out and took the water bottle from him. The condensation felt nice on your palm already. You unscrewed the cap with a cold expression and heard the plastic crack. He hadn’t tempered with it, at least. A part of you felt bad for assuming the worst, but, then again, this was South Korea. You took a sip and pointed with the cap to the plastic bag.

“What food?”

Jungkook started, diverting his peek at your reaction in hopes you didn’t notice. You had. “Pan-fried tteokbokki,” he mumbled.

One of your favorites. At least he used his ears sometimes. “You really balled out, huh. How much I owe you?”

He took offense. “You think I don’t make enough money to treat you?”

“What do you need to treat me for?”

“Aren’t we friends?” Jungkook shot back.

You were mid-sip when the damage was already done. You saw him freeze up and then quickly look away. People walking past were giving you both weird looks, splitting around the two of you as a river does to a pesky rock stuck in the middle. You lowered the water bottle. He shoved his free hand into his front pant pocket. His knuckles indented the fabric. You looked from them, to back up to his face. His brows were knitted together and he appeared to be biting back an insult.

Or something else.

You reached for the bag.

Hooked your fingers around the handles. He didn’t let go. Nor acknowledge you. You tugged lightly. He remained an immovable statue. You took a step forward and pulled up, turning your face away from his chest in the process.

Jungkook whipped his head back and glared down at you.

His grip tightened. You pressed your lips together as the side of your fingers touched the side of his. He smelled fresh. He had definitely showered. The stale scent of his cigarette from earlier still lingered on your denim jacket. You shifted your eyes and made eye contact. Close. Not touching, though. Just enough for a misunderstanding that wasn’t going to happen because both of you were crystal clear on your stances.

He let go of the bag.

The weight fell onto your fingers.

He was searching for the words but you interrupted his thoughts.

“You gonna make sure I get home safe?” you asked.

He looked away. “Don’t be stupid.” Tightened his jaw. “What kind of man would I be if I just let you wander around at night by yourself?”

You watched his profile. He didn’t turn back. You stepped back. His eyes followed, as unnoticeable as he believed, and you let him have that, choosing instead to start walking.

“Might as well eat while it’s warm. I could sit down for a bit.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was after you. You heard him bite back his reply and swiftly pivot, and then it was both you against the night of blaring headlights and a dissipating crowd, feeling two kinds of alone despite all the people around. You ended up at the underground food court. Probably where he purchased the tteokbokki to begin with. Found a table and unwrapped the container. A paper-sleeved wooden skewer was tucked against the lid.

Jungkook threw himself into the seat across from you and pulled out his phone, beginning his doomscrolling.

It was still warm. Lightly spicy. Probably a bit too heavy for late night but that was why it tasted better than usual. You caught his darting glimpse as you ate. Raised an eyebrow. He pretended not to notice. Or was it that he pretended not to care? You raised the skewer and tilted it towards him. He continued to ignore you even though his body was halfway turning.

“Want one?”

“I’m fine,” he instantly answered. Almost smugly.

You knew what he was doing. Still, you acted as if you didn’t. “I can’t eat it all anyway. Don’t waste.”

Those dark brown orbs shifted back. His eyebrows furrowed. He did his best to sound annoyed. “You don’t eat enough.”

“Even if I didn’t, I should eat something healthier,” you pointed out, keeping your face neutral.

He reached for the skewer and you pierced one of the rice cakes instead. Soaking it in the sauce and holding it out. Jungkook locked eyes with you. You slid the container closer so he could lean over it.

He took the skewer from your fingers and fed himself.

All while staring at you.

The eye contact was broken by his eyes closing. Enjoying the food. Crispy, warm, spicy. Chewy on the inside, in that satisfying way that one could enjoy the seeping heat all over the tongue. He stabbed another and ate that too, without asking. You hadn’t expected him to. You hadn’t expected him to do any of this, actually. You drank another sip of water.

“I’ll take the train home.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungkook grumbled with full cheeks, sliding the container back to you and shoving the wooden skewer in your hand. His brief touch lingered. You searched for his expression but he covered the lower half of his face with his other hand, keeping his eyes shut and chewing as he spoke. “I came on my bike. I’ll drop you off at your place.”

Now that was sounding a little too familiar. “I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve done it before.”

He cracked open an eye and you could tell he was frowning even though his hair had fallen over his temples. “Just because you’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’s smart or safe.”

He underestimated your resting psycho bitch face. You speared two pieces of tteokbokki and crammed them in your mouth. Chewed with irritation. You swallowed. “No one is out to get me.”

Those three-quarter moons remained unconvinced. “That you know of.”

You raised your eyebrows and moved to continue eating. “You watch too much true crime.”

“You don’t watch enough. You are the one that should be cautious,” Jungkook retorted.

“I am cautious.” You glanced at him above pan-fried rice cake. “But you can’t live always being afraid of possible horrors. If I did that, well, I would sleep even worse than I already do.”

You ate.

Jungkook lowered his eyes and went pensively silent.

There wasn’t anything to say. You cleaned up. Threw away the remains appropriately. Began to walk with him subtly leading the way. The night felt darker. Quieter. The concert crowd was gone and now the streets were full of night owls on their own lonely missions. You pretended passersby parted to let you and him through. The more likely answer was avoidance though. There wasn’t anything that friendly about Jungkook’s rigid presence and your inherently cold one.

In a parking lot now.

His black and chrome motorcycle was parked. A beast in its own right. Lately, you had been thinking of his addictions. Tattoos. Motorcycles. Cigarettes. Chasing after the un-chasable. Was he simply a thrill seeker or was he attempting to break an internal perfection that he had been living by for far too long? Or just doing anything that came to mind to try and feel something? You stopped walking when he did. He did his thing. And then Jungkook held out a lump of black fabric to you.

You raised your eyebrows.

He half-shrugged. “You can’t get on the bike in that skirt.”

He was right. You didn’t want him to be right. You took the lump that turned out to be a pair of his sweatpants. The Nike ones he usually wore to work out. You made a face. He rolled his eyes as he produced the helmet.

“They’re clean,” he huffed. “I ain’t nasty.”

You had quite a few comebacks for that but you kept your mouth shut. You wondered if he noticed how he slipped out of his practiced Seoul dialect for half a sentence. You noticed. You averted your eyes. It was late. The adrenaline was wearing off to soreness. You could only give about a rat’s ass of a fuck right now. Fuck it. You started bending down.

“Woah!”

All of a sudden you felt a strong grip on your forearm, pulling you back up and dragging you forward, sandwiching you in between the large motorcycle and Jungkook’s scowl, quickly letting go once you glared. You narrowed your eyes. He gave you a disapproving frown.

“I’m wearing shorts under this,” you hissed under his chin.

“Booty shorts, maybe,” he snapped back. “Also, shorts or not, they don’t hide your shape. Idiot.”

He was wrong. You were wearing black boyshort-style panties. Semantics. Instead of bending down, you raised one leg to lower the inner zipper of your boots. Immediately, Jungkook caught your shoulder, steadying you. You didn’t thank him. You glowered. He glowered back as you undid the other one. You stomped down and bunched up the legs of the sweatpants, first sticking in one foot and then the other, doing a little dance in and out of your boots, before forcefully yanking them up your legs. He didn’t let you fall, but he also didn’t look either, swiftly turning his head to stare out into the street. There was a brief moment where you had to decide to tuck in your skirt or let it flare out over the top of the pants. You opted for the latter, straightening and smoothing out the pleats over the crotch of his borrowed sweatpants.

He glanced back and frowned.

You noticed. “What?”

His eyes drifted up. Brow knitted together. He let go of your shoulder. “Not fair that you look cute,” he muttered.

“I look dumb as hell.” You bent over and rezipped your boots, adding under your breath, “But it’s better than nothing. I guess.” You stood up again.

There was a shifty, expectant silence.

You wanted to go home and sleep. At the same time, you wanted to be awake. Jungkook hesitated for a moment and then handed you the helmet in his hands before circling around you to grab the other one he had stored, leaving you to figure that shit out on your own. He avoided your gaze as surely as you did his. The whole scene looked less weird that it felt. You heard the engine purr to life. He said something and you ignored him, buttoning up your jacket so your valuables wouldn’t fall out. Not your best look, however, you had not planned any of this in any capacity.

Jungkook was already seated, his long legs extended to the asphalt to steady himself.

“So, you–”

You placed your hand on his bicep and stepped onto the footpeg, nimbly swinging your leg over to balance behind him. Underneath your hand, you felt him stiffen as you settled, sliding your other arm around his back and temporarily landing on his hip before you removed the hand on his upper arm to grip his waist.

“O… Oh.”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m good,” you confirmed even though he hadn’t asked.

He felt warm and solid and you did your best to ignore it.

“R-Right.” A pause before he said, “Hold on, alright?”

You squeezed his waist.

“Mhm.”

Jungkook took you home.

-

“I’ll get the pants back later,” he said as you handed him the helmet back. “Go on up.”

You observed him. Jungkook did his best to be calm and not jittery. He gave you a strange look, realizing that you were analyzing him. He had killed the engine so he didn’t have to shout. He cradled the helmet you had borrowed with one hand, the other on the handle of his motorcycle for a moment before using it to raise the visor to uncover his dark eyes.

You paused.

Then, you unbuttoned your denim jacket, reaching into the inner pocket for your lighter.

You held it out to Jungkook.

He glanced at it, and then at you.

You ticked your head. “You’ll need a light again. Inevitably. Take it.”

His gaze sharpened. He looked away quickly, and you could tell by the contortion of his features that he was shoving his tongue into his cheek, letting out an annoyed huff. Then, he shook his head, as if your audacity was something to behold. Jungkook then transferred the helmet to the crook of his arm and shoved his dominant, tattooed hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, ripping out a slightly crumpled cigarette box with one corner torn open.

He slapped it over your dragon lighter.

“Shit.”

You stared at your palm. And then at him. Jungkook glared back, exhaling hard.

“Take ‘em,” he mumbled. His Busan dialect was even more obvious now. His voice was gruff and his manner blunted. “Just fuckin’ take them.”

“I don’t want these,” you retorted.

“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed to daggers. “Neither should I.” His eyes shifted down and then back up. “Inevitably. You’re so fucking full of it.”

You almost flung both objects at his face. Almost. Yet something made you reconsider. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor shifted. He tried to keep his tone sharp but it was dulled by his body language. He cocked his chin in the most falsely cocky way.

“You think I’m gonna want ‘em?”

Your gazes locked.

“Then I’ll have to come to you to get ‘em.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m going to throw them away.”

He dared you. “Do it.”

“You’ll waste your money and time.”

“And I’ll be reminded you’ll never let me live it down,” Jungkook growled. “I’ll think twice before putting myself through that fire.”

Silence.

Eye to eye.

You held his stare.

Then, you lowered your hand, clutching his cigarettes and your lighter, backing away, and quickly spinning on your heel, striding into your apartment building. You punched in the code. Behind you, you heard the swift kick of an engine roar and then a fading zip away as you yanked open the glass door. You didn’t look back. You pocketed Jeon Jungkook’s cigarettes.

-

Nights later, you sat on the floor next to your bed, flicking your lighter on and off to kill the flame and revive it. Over. And over. You stared at the tiny orange burst. Then extinguished it. Then ignited it again. Such a small light. So fragile and yet so capable of burning this entire apartment down. You breathed out. Fixated on the dancing flame. Time passed.

You sat in silence.

You snapped the lid closed, snuffing it out.

The room was semi-dark. Your bedside table lamp was the only light on. The curtains were open, giving you a view of the city skyline etched into the black sky. The area was actually pretty quiet. You got lucky with a neighborhood full of older folks who mostly minded their own damn business. The apartments were older in a homely sort of way. The most telling trait of the apartment complex was the general unease in the air. Probably because some of the older folks had died in their apartments before. People could be superstitious like that. Maybe you were too. You just didn’t see it as a negative.

Which said a lot about you.

You looked up to your nightstand. Next to the dingy chrome base of your lamp was an open pack of cigarettes. The box was missing maybe three or four of them, you guessed. You hadn’t torn it open to confirm.

Behind your head, your phone began to vibrate.

You lifted your hand and placed your lighter on the nightstand. The lines of the dragon engraving caught the low light, casting shadows over it. Your hand pivoted and you felt around the bed. Found the smoothness of the screen and pulled your phone to you, lowering it to your lap before looking at the caller ID. You frowned slightly once you noticed the time. That late, huh? And this person almost never called or texted. Well. At least not to you.

You accepted the call and brought it to your ear out of habit.

“Ya. You,” mumbled the slurred, distorted voice of Jeon Jungkook.

You responded just as politely. “What?”

He let out a huff. There was a fair bit of rustling and maybe the sound of glass on table. “I want you to know something.” You didn’t reply to that. It wasn’t a question. He paused anyway. Maybe expecting you to reprimand him. You stayed silent. “Ah, fuck.” He exhaled hard into the microphone. You held your phone slightly away from your ear even though you couldn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Look. I’m not drinking because I need a smoke.” You doubted it. “I just felt like drinking. It’s Friday.” He wasn’t wrong. “I… I get it, okay? I get why you don’t like it. Makes sense and all. I…” He trailed off again, struggling to find the words. “But I’m not like you. I’m not. I don’t have my shit together.”

“I don’t have my shit together,” you interjected. Should be obvious from you answering his call perfectly awake at three in the morning. He didn’t seem to be thinking rationally at the moment though. If he ever did.

“Fuck off.” He lost control of his Seoul dialect. Kept going back and forth between upstanding citizen and gruff Busan satoori. You wondered if he was aware. Probably not. “You have it way more together than me. I’m fuckin’ trying. Ugh.” His tone tightened. “It’s not… It’s not how you think it is. It’s not.”

You weren’t sure you thought it was anything but you let him talk. Nothing else to do, after all.

“I have great parents, you know.” He sighed. Despondently annoyed. “They’re awesome. I wanted to be a good son. That’s… I mean, doesn’t everybody? I listened to them. I listened to be teachers. I listened to my classmates. I wanted to be a good person, so I did everything asked of me from others.” His voice deepened to a soft growl.

“But… People take. I didn’t even realize it.”

You realized that Jungkook sounded sad.

“They take when they know you give. And I gave, because my parents taught me to be a good person and I didn’t want to disappoint them by people calling me heartless or cruel. But…” Mumbled something you didn’t catch. Cleared his throat. “It was becoming too much. I got fed up. I had to start saying no. But not before I had already said yes to a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have said yes to. I had already developed bad habits by then.”

A few seconds of silence.

You broke it. “You’re too easily influenced,” you accused.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Jungkook grumbled. “Fuck me for not knowing that there are people are out there don’t have my best interests at heart and want to see me fucked up because they feel some type of way. My bad.”

You figured that was common sense. But maybe not. Maybe not, considering the way he talked about his parents. You pushed back your own personal biases despite their intrusive nature.

“Is your family disappointed in you?” you quietly asked.

“Me?” He let out a humorless laugh. “No. No, they’re supportive. Even if they don’t like my tattoos or the piercings or whatever, no one has ever made me feel shit about it. Everyone is positive. Even began to like those things about me when most elders would lose their shit.” He sighed. “But… I still didn’t quit the cigarettes. Just didn’t smoke around them, because I didn’t want to see my mom sad. But still. I didn’t even want to try to quit.”

A moment of reluctance.

“Until… Until I met you,” sighed Jungkook, his deep voice heavy.

Was that supposed to be flattering? You didn’t have time to ponder it.

“Hmph… I’m so envious of you.” A light thud. More rustling. He sounded a little muffled and a lot out of it. “You’re never ruffled. No matter what anyone says or does, you’re always yourself. You don’t relent even when I act like a prick. It’s so… Hah. I can’t do that.” He sounded defeated. “I try to not care too. I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. The second I think I’ve got it, yes, this is me, I remember it’s not. It’s not. I just copied someone else I saw that I thought… Copying you… You’re right. Lots of people told me to quit. Or keep going, it’s not that bad. They can all fuck right off, until…”

A weak shuffle and then you could barely hear the whisper in between the phone lines. His face was seemingly buried into something. He sounded both far away and so very close at once.

“What am I doing…? It doesn’t… Doesn’t make sense.”

You almost said something. It wasn’t the right time. You shifted your position on the floor, leaning back against the bed. He must have heard that you were still on the other side of the line. He dragged more strength into his voice. As much as he could muster, anyway.

“How…” He shuddered. Whispered your name under his breath in the same way sailors called to stars to navigate the sea on a cold night. “You told me I should quit and… Yeah. I know you’re right. I know. I… The other night…”

The night you attempted to give him your lighter to keep.

Jungkook sniffed. “You can’t… Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter how you do it,” he mumbled. “You do. You just do. And so do I. I gotta just do.”

You finally spoke.

“Yes,” you sighed. “That’s the truth.”

Cradled the phone, leaning it against your temple.

“The world doesn’t care.” He sounded resigned but no longer on the edge. “Everyone just does what they wanna do.”

A long pause. For some reason, you had the impression that both of you were curled up somewhere at home suddenly feeling not at home. Maybe it was the time of the night. Or the alcohol on his end. Or the insomnia on your end. The long seconds marched on. Then, Jungkook asked you a question with a statement.

“I wish I knew what… What I wanna do.”

Silence.

You half-smiled knowing he couldn’t see it. Preferred, actually, that he didn’t. “Gonna be honest,” you chuckled. “I don’t know what I want to do. I follow my instincts and accept wherever I end up.”

He snorted. Haughtily. It was meant to dent to your demeanor and it was about as effective as a puff of popcorn. “Of course. Hah.” Exhaled hard, taking the fight out of himself. “You really… You really don’t know…?”

You debated what you did and didn’t know. “About what?”

An irritated huff. Something about your tone seemingly made him hesitate, though. He caught the gist of what was unsaid. Maybe it was because he was drunk. Sober Jungkook could never.

“If.” Just that. If. “Ah…”

He breathed out your name. It was very late. The darkness was at its peak. But Jeon Jungkook breathed your name with the capacity of a dreamer, half-conscious and losing fast.

“I won’t let it end like this.”

There were a few minutes of quiet.

You hung up before he could start snoring in your ear. A small part of you kind of wanted to hear it. But, instead, you hung up. Placed your phone on your lap. Stared straight ahead, to the windowsill and the peek of the city skyline against a black sky. You thought about his voice on the other end. Calling for you. You sat in silence. Night bled away. You wanted to reach for the lighter again. Your instincts told you not to.

So, you hoisted yourself up and crawled under your covers, giving in to exhaustion’s embrace.

-

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook was an evening at a convenience store. It was a coincidence. Or perhaps one of fate’s great jokes. You spied him the second you walked into the small establishment. He was talking to a tall man with a sun-kissed tan and longish black hair in soft curls. They obviously knew each other. Jungkook’s laugh was his typical bright guffaw that he tried to stifle to not be a public disturbance.

For a second, you almost forgot that call from a few nights ago.

You looked away, heading to the other side of the store.

Before you did, though, he had glanced in your direction and done a double-take. You moved into an aisle, out of sight, heading to the back, changing your original intent for being here. This particular convenience store was family-owned. It had a small section where the owner’s wife prepared fresh gimbap daily. You wondered how many people knew about this, because it was always stocked. Maybe they preferred to buy from bigger stores, not trusting a small business. You grabbed a tray of heftily-filled tuna gimbap before heading to the fridge section for drinks.

Jungkook was standing there.

You pulled back into the aisle.

His back had been to you, so he didn’t have the chance to notice. Half-in the fridge, picking something out among the electrolyte replenishers and flavored waters. He carried a black backpack that seemed heavy with things. Workout stuff, you assumed. His companion earlier had a towel around his shoulders and had worn a red tank top with exaggerated armholes, revealing a built chest and defined arms. Jungkook’s black hair looked slightly damp, possibly sweaty, pushed back and away from his forehead. He was wearing an open navy hoodie, white tank top, gray sweatpants, and white sneakers. It was safe to assume the backpack had workout shit in it. You wondered where the other guy was. He had been very tall. Easy to spot over the tops of the aisles, but he seemed to no longer be in the store. He must have left, then. No one to distract Jungkook any longer. Hm. You still wanted a drink, but.

Not that badly.

You zipped your black hoodie over your exposed stomach once you noticed the cashier was the elderly woman. You probably would have zipped it no matter who it was. The older generation just tended to be less subtle about their judgements. You approached the register and she smiled, greeting you. You slid the tuna gimbap over to her.

He was behind you.

You glanced at the glass behind the cashier. The cabinet held various brands of cigarettes. It was very well-polished, and you could see Jungkook behind you, sternly staring at the back of your head. You turned around.

He shot you a questioning look, furrowing his eyebrows.

“The total is–”

In his hands was a big bottle. Some kind of sports drink. You took it from him, and put it next to your tuna gimbap. The old woman didn’t quite register the speed of your action, blinking several times.

“Sorry,” you said. “Could you please add this too? Thank you.”

Clearly, she could only focus at one thing at a time. She did not realize you had snatched the drink from the man behind you, which would immediately raise eyebrows. Instead, the older woman was preoccupied with searching for the barcode, turning the bottle this way and that, poking the scanner against it.

Adding it to your receipt.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled out your card as the cashier stated your new total. Tapped it as Jungkook hissed your name under his breath, but you ignored him, accepting the purchase as the cashier carefully packed up your meal and someone else’s drink in the same small clear plastic bag. She smiled her customer service smile and then noticed the disheveled punk behind you with a slight widening of her eyes.

You thanked her again and wished her a nice day before gripping his hoodie sleeve and dragging him with you.

Immediately let go when you exited the establishment, finally paying heed to the muttering of curses behind you. You reached into the thin plastic bag and pulled out his drink, pivoting slightly to give it to him. Jungkook snatched it from your hand, scowling.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ charity,” he snapped.

You wondered if he even remembered his drunken laments. “It’s not charity.” You affixed an impassive expression. “Not for you, anyway. Just making it easier for the cashier.” You began to take a few steps in the direction you needed to go.

He scoffed, “What are you doing, anyway?” and cocked his chin at you. “Stalking me now?”

You wondered if he was wishing for that. “I’m retrieving dinner like everybody else at this hour. ‘Cept you, I guess,” you added, unzipping your hoodie again even though the sun was dropping fast.

“What the–”

And Jungkook quickly jogged up beside you, shielding your body with his.

“The hell you doing?”

You glared but didn’t stop walking. “What?” Impolitely.

He pointed to your sports bra with a flick of his wrist. “Uh, you can’t leave the house like that.”

“I already have,” you pointed out. His eyes were glued to your sports bra and the low-waisted black Nike sweatpants clinging to your hips.

“And you think nothing is going to happen to you?” Jungkook indignantly shot back, blocking your way and darting his gaze around as if offenders were already on the horizon.

“Whether it does or not has no bearing on what I’m wearing,” you dryly replied. He was repeating a tale as old as time. Not that that made it any less real. It was all heard before, though. “You act like I haven’t lived for decades knowing the horrors of the world.”

His expression changed. Still frustrated. Slightly put off by your wording. And, sadly, comprehension. “That’s not what I mean.”

“That’s what you’re coming off as.”

“Not my intention,” he grumbled.

“Intentions don’t mean much in the face of what actually happens,” you said, glancing at him.

He shut up.

You almost regretted spilling your honesty.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

He seemed beaten down by your response. Eventually he shook his head and ran his free hand through his windswept black hair, trying to sneak a glimpse at your face. You were already staring at him. That threw him off. He looked away, flustered.

“Can I at least accompany you back?” he offered. Awkwardly.

You ticked your head. You knew that his gym was near that convenience store. “Don’t you live around here?” He had mentioned it, once. “I need to take the bus.” Earlier, you were aware that there was definitely a chance for you would run into him once you chose your destination. But it was the closest spot to buy liquor, and you hadn’t felt like traveling further. Then the original plan changed once you encountered Jungkook. Remembering all that made you pause. You diverted your gaze, adding, “Forget it. Go home.”

Monotone.

Your dismissal clearly annoyed him. He let out an exaggerated exhale and blocked you again when you tried to walk around him. You narrowed your eyes but didn’t raise your head. His tank top was tight, revealing the contours of his muscle. The shoulder of his hoodie had slid down, exposing part of his tattoo sleeve. Dark rings of petals in a hypnotizing mandala. The artist was talented enough to make you pause to admire. Then you swiftly looked away, anywhere else, shifting to his jaw. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and steeled himself.

“Fine.” He came to a conclusion, apparently. “I need a smoke.”

A ripple of aggravation shot through your temple. You turned your stare to fixate on Jungkook. He glared back, twice as stubborn.

“You serious?” you snarled. “Go back to the store then and buy some yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. “The fuck is the point of giving them to you, then?”

You jerked back, disgusted. “I didn’t fucking want them, asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” he pressed, becoming more resolute by the second. “That was the deal.”

You planted a palm on his chest and shoved him out of your way. Unbelievable. “There was no fucking deal,” you retorted, walking fast. He kept up because he was an annoying prick. You glowered, bristling at his presence. “What? You think you can do whatever you want, Jeon Jungkook?” The audacity of this bitch. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ give them to you anyway. So, promptly, fuck off.”

His fingertips touched your shoulder.

You yanked your body back as if scalded.

“Don’t touch me.”

He pulled his hand out of the air but didn’t back down. Those dark brown eyes narrowed. His lips thinned. Anger clouded his features. And. You felt your icy composure become brittle when you observed the distressed sadness poorly hidden underneath said anger.

A tense stillness.

“They’ll kill you,” you steely stated.

His gaze shifted. Contorted. The expression of all too well.

“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “That’s the truth.”

Then his eyes drifted back to you.

All the fight in the air drained out. Neither of you dared to speak. There were volumes written within this shared quiet. Strangers walked past, sending you both strange looks. You and him were too busy being struck in three-in-the-morning thoughts shared during an impromptu phone call. You looked away. So did he. There was a loud screech of metal and heavy tires on asphalt. You didn’t say anything. You only had time for an instinctive decision.

You tapped Jungkook’s forearm and waved, quickly running to catch up with the bus.

Less than a minute later, him and you stiffly sat next to each other on worn seats, trying your best not to glance at one another or make eye contact with anyone else. It was mostly successful, other than a strong-smelling middle-aged man that was eyeing everybody a little too closely. He settled on you for an unknown but undoubtably nefarious reason. Jungkook shoved you against the side of the bus and firmly put his backpack in his lap, blocking the view of your torso from the stranger’s perspective. Either the random man noticed the silent hostility or lacked object permeance when drunk. He changed course.

Both of you relaxed slightly.

You zipped up your hoodie anyway. Couldn’t hurt. You lifted your head. By mistake, your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stayed mute for now. It was a quiet bus ride, leaving both of you in roads of thought neither of you wanted to be in.

-

“You can go home now.”

Jungkook reminded you. “I need a smoke, remember?”

You held your apartment keys and frowned at him. He gave you a casual shrug you didn’t trust. He held onto his backpack and the drink you had bought him, now half-empty. You turned away, licking the side of your teeth. Glanced from all the closed doors around you. You couldn’t shake the tension at your shoulders. Passed by his face. There was something in his expression. You let out an exhale through your nose and shoved your key into the lock, harshly twisting it.

“Fine. Go look for them,” you invited not-so-invitingly.

The door was old and jammed in the frame. You shoved it, hard, and it swung open with almost too much force. You grabbed the knob before it could hit the wall in a practiced motion, crossing the threshold to remove your shoes and scoot them by the wall. He followed, somewhat startled by your daily habits. You ignored him. Instead, you headed for the tiny kitchen with your tuna gimbap, intending to devour it as Jungkook did his search. Chopsticks from the drawer. Taking out the tray of food and placing it on the counter while you balled up the plastic bag to put it in the correct recycling bin. Yanked off the lid and picked up the end piece to eat.

You chewed.

It was fresh. Pretty good.

Without turning around, you removed your hoodie and threw it to the side. It shot to the back of the sofa and clumped. You kept eating. You had already heard Jungkook lock the door, remove his shoes, and dump his backpack on the hardwood floor with a thump. The cigarettes were exactly where you left them. Next to your bedside table lamp with your lighter leaning against them. You ate another piece, staring at the bottom of your gray-stained cabinets, and only now realizing how hungry you were. Huh.

It was eerily quiet.

Weird.

You chewed on your third piece and twisted your body to find Jungkook still standing by the door, staring at your living room with wide eyes. The apartment was quite small. Maybe a little bit crammed. The living room had a black fabric sofa, a dark-stained coffee table that had seen too many late-night dinners, and the TV on a low storage unit.

And mirrors.

Mirrors all over the walls. Most of them were small. Some were vintage with aged metal frames or darkened bamboo frames. Some of them weren’t in the best shape, the reflective glass becoming patchy and spotted. Some were a little more than smoked glass. They were all from thrift stores or resell markets. There was no real rhyme or reason to their placement all over the living room other than chaotically aesthetic. The ones on the bookshelf unit by the window were all lined up. Unique pocket mirrors with various shapes. There were a few anime and cartoon character motifs sprinkled in.

“What the fuck…?”

He finally gave you a look slight frightened concern but mostly confusion.

You shrugged. Casually. “I like to collect mirrors.” You munched.

“No shit?” Jungkook still looked mildly appalled. He furrowed his brows to regain some sort of control over his face. “And you called me a creep.” Still, he shuffled further in, peering over them. “There’s so many of them… The fuck you need all this for?”

“Nothing.”

He shot you a look over his shoulder and quickly diverted his eyes once he noticed your exposed shoulders. “Nothing?” he echoed indignantly.

“There’s no real purpose,” you reaffirmed, grabbing another piece of gimbap with a click of your chopsticks. “Why does anyone have a collection?”

Jungkook snorted. “Collecting music albums or even plushies is less weird then…” He paused. Then angled his body slightly, as if to listen to what you had to say without directly viewing you. “Is there a reason you collect mirrors?”

You, too, stilled. Seeing the back of his head and his broad shoulders suddenly reminded you that this was the first time you had ever invited Jeon Jungkook into your space and rather impulsively at that. You faced the counter again. The gimbap was about three-fourths gone. It was probably a good idea to finish it all now. You chewed on your lower lip, debating on whether or not to tell him the reason.

“When I was young,” you said, directed to the unfinished gimbap. “I didn’t like looking at myself in mirrors. Guess I had some kind of complex about them.” You didn’t elaborate. You positioned your chopsticks over another piece of the roll but didn’t yet pick it up. “When I moved in here, I didn’t really care about decorating it either. Figured it didn’t matter. At some point, I got tired of the blank walls, so I went to a secondhand shop to find something to put on the wall, and I remembered I don’t like mirrors.”

Hated them, really.

“So, I brought one because I thought the design was cool. And kept buying them.”

You half-laughed, mirthlessly.

“I decided it’s stupid to hate something like that, anyway,” you muttered, and chomped down another piece. You should have gotten out the soy sauce. Hah. With self-exasperation, you opened a cabinet to take out the small glass dispenser. Poured a little on the edge of the tray to dip the last few pieces in.

“That’s cool.”

His voice seemed louder, somehow. “You called me a creep,” you hummed.

“I didn’t call you a creep,” Jungkook said behind you.

You turned around, bristling. He was distracted, looking around your relatively neat kitchen. Probably taking note that there were no mirrors here. You restricted your collection to the living room walls to prevent overbuying. His eyes stopped at the gimbap on the counter at waist height. His dark eyes raised. Tentative. Your pulse accelerated a bit. You kept your expression neutral, chewing slowly.

“Thought you needed a smoke?” you asked after swallowing. You waved your chopstick towards the bedroom. “Be my guest.”

The tips of his ears flushed pink. He was sort of looking at you but also not. You tried not to notice that his navy hoodie had fallen off his shoulder, revealing his defined, tattooed right arm all the way to his elbow. His hands were shoved into the side pockets of his sweatpants. He was in the middle of scrutinizing yours.

“Are those mine?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring your question.

You flicked the side seam by your thigh. “I’ll wash them and give them back. Seemed pointless to wear them for only a short while and wash immediately.” You leaned against the counter. “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His eyes shot up to your face at your comment. You shared a glare. Both of you held it more out of stubbornness than intimidation. For what reason, you weren’t sure. There were only parts of him you disliked. Not all of him. Well. Maybe if you and him dialed back the hostility, then.

Both of you broke eye contact at the same time.

“They… They look good on you.” It wasn’t said in a sarcastic way. The sincerity was somehow more alarming. “Keep them.”

“No thanks,” you retorted with more familiarity than you intended. “I don’t need your charity.” You shouldn’t have said that.

It didn’t end up mattering, though.

“Do you remember when I called you a couple nights ago?” Jungkook suddenly blurted, thrusting you both into whiplash of conversation topic change.

You froze.

There was no cue to tell you what was the right thing to say. It was best to glance at his expression to find out, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. There was something about the distance of a phone call that made deep conversations easier. But you realized from his abruptness that he, too, must have been struggling to bring up the elephant in the room. Could have let it sleep, but this guy wouldn’t let it be.

Still, you understood him.

You pursed your lips and rubbed your collarbone with your free hand. “Only one of us was drunk and it wasn’t me,” you finally sighed. Raised your head.

His ears were very red now. You saw Jungkook battle between being a smartass and his natural self. You saw him wish he was a natural smartass. He cleared his throat, his chest tensing. “Uh… Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry about… Calling so late.” He cleared his throat again despite his discomfort being purely emotional. His eyes shifted. “I didn’t think you’d answer… But you did.” He chanced a glimpse at your reaction.

You shrugged.

Casually.

He nodded quickly even though you hadn’t said anything. “I don’t remember everything I said,” he rambled in a tone that clearly indicated he did. “So, don’t, uh, don’t take it too seriously.” He was taller than you but it didn’t feel like that right now.

You considered his words and quietly replied with, “Okay.”

His eyes drifted to the kitchen counter. Lingered on your waist, but not for long. He ticked his chin towards the leftovers. “Can I have a piece?”

Wordlessly, you held out the chopsticks so he had access to the other, unused end. He hesitated. Then pulled a hand from his pocket. You moved out of the way as he retrieved the chopsticks from your grip and took a step to be closer to the counter.

It was weird.

Standing in your small kitchen next to Jeon Jungkook eating your dinner leftovers.

Mostly it was weird because it didn’t make you highly uncomfortable or positively annoyed. It felt normal, which is what made it otherworldly odd. As if you were getting used to his presence beside you. You winced and tried not to make it obvious. You heard him try to say your name between bites.

“Chew your food,” you muttered, angling your face away but not your body. Couldn’t bring yourself to watch him eat. You heard the rattle of the plastic tray against the counter as he dipped in the soy sauce. Then you felt a nudge by your arm.

Before you could stop your natural reaction, you were face-to-face with Jungkook who was holding out the last piece to you with full cheeks and an expectant expression. You blinked at him. The blunt end of the chopsticks was used, but he was holding out the gimbap with the slender side. The end you had been eating with. The seaweed glistened with soy sauce. His free hand was under the chopsticks, cradling air in the dire last resort that it fell. He roughly swallowed, looking more annoyed with each passing second.

“Open up.”

“No,” you automatically replied.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

You made a face. “This is weird.”

He made a face back. Disturbing. “Shut up and open your mouth.”

“I wo–”

That was precisely the moment Jungkook shoved the chopsticks into your mouth. Instinctively, you lowered your jaw to catch it all, glaring at him. He scowled back, about to remove the chopsticks before you caught them in your teeth with your mouth full of tuna, vegetables, and rice. There was a brief, pointless tug of war before you pulled your head back rather than let him perform the action. Jungkook squinted at you, irritated, and you were just as perturbed, chewing decidedly before swallowing.

Sudden silence.

He lowered the chopsticks to balance them on the empty tray. You ran your tongue over your teeth to catch any rice stragglers. It became hard to maintain eye contact. Now he was facing the cabinets and you were facing the living room of mirrors. Minutes ticked by.

The quiet became violent.

You whipped your head to Jungkook. “So, what–”

He spoke at the same time. “You know I’m not joking, right?” he asked softly.

His profile was statuesque. Instantly recognizable. Imprinted in memory. And then his dark eyes shifted, his black hair framing his temples, and now Jungkook was searching for your eyes that remained on him. You shut your mouth. He realized he had interrupted you.

“What did you want to say?”

You faltered and then shook your head. “Not important.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t–”

“Joking about what?” you interjected. “Don’t try to distract me.”

He was, rightfully, irate. “You–”

You wrapped an arm around your midsection, suddenly feeling cold. “Is this about you quitting smoking?”

Immediately he noticed. Your demeanor demanding him to answer was a little too intense to be ignored, though. “That’s…” He tutted, his voice deepening slightly. “I’ve already quit.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” He was trying to unconvincingly convince you. It had barely been a couple weeks, anyway. ‘Ugh, okay, fine. Maybe I bummed a cig a couple of times. But only for a couple puffs. Don’t fucking look at me like that,” Jungkook snapped. “Like you don’t have any bad habits.”

“I have bad habits,” you answered coldly. “But I also deal with how I feel. Something you should get started on.”

He threw up his hands and began to back away from the counter, until.

“Is this how you want to spend your life?” you asked.

His back was to you now. Reluctance took over, rendering his movements as statuesque as he looked moments before. You stared at his back, wondering if you had gone too far. Wondering if these shared moments were all for naught. Not really in the very real chance that he could leave and never look back, but in the very real chance that he did and nothing changed for him. Or for you. In the chance that your interactions would ultimately mean nothing in this life when it was very clear that both of you wanted to mean something. Anything.

“I don’t.”

You looked up and Jungkook was looking back at you over his shoulder. He lowered his gaze when your eyes connected before half-turning to face you, halfway between running to and running from. You asked yourself, if it was anyone else, would you stay this silent? Before it registered, you reached out and tugged his hoodie sleeve.

After all, you did always have a light for him.

He raised his eyes.

“You’re trying. Aren’t you?” You gave him a dry smile before letting go.

His lashes lowered to waning half-moons. Then he ticked his head, asking, “Do you really hate it that much?” His eyes found yours. He already knew the answer and was asking it anyway.

You told him the truth. “Yeah.”

The corner of his lips flicked upwards wryly. “Damn. So honest.”

You almost laughed. “Well… You wouldn’t like me at all if you knew I was a liar.” Then your words caught up to you. “Not that you do,” you added after a beat.

“I do,” corrected Jungkook before looking away.

Maybe he was embarrassed by his admission. You, however, were preoccupied with other thoughts. The mirrors. Your insomnia. His tattoos. His cigarettes. Your coldness. His fire. The way you tended to lock down your deep emotions and the way his tended to spill out when they overflowed. You held the lighter. He longed to burn. You liked him. That thought lingered. You hated the smoking, true, not only because of all the obvious discomforts, but also because you had a feeling that he knew he could quit and only did it to further punish himself for things he didn’t do.

You just had a feeling since you, too, punished yourself for things you didn’t do.

You felt something soft brush against your shoulders.

His hoodie smelled like him, herbal and fresh with depth, with a vague hint of washed-out acid smoke. You glanced over. He looked apologetic, gesturing to your arm over your midsection. His built chest and sculpted shoulders were mildly distracting. His white tank top clung to his body, not leaving much to the imagination. You frowned. Jungkook saw your face and braced himself for a reprimanding.

You asked him a question you had been wondering for a while now.

“Did you plan this?”

That wasn’t what he expected. His features twisted into confusion. “Uh?” He seemed to forget his anxiousness for a moment. “Plan what?” The perfect deer-in-headlights look.

You angled your body to better face him and held the edge of the hoodie, narrowing your eyes. “You know what I mean,” you warned.

He sensed danger and held up his hands in defeat. “I don’t?”

Those big brown eyes begged you to believe him. Either he was stupid or a really good actor. You relaxed slightly. You weren’t banking on the latter and really hoped you were right. You grimaced, backing away. It wasn’t fair to let learned behavior judge him yet constant vigilance was also needed for survival. You sighed, stepping around him.

“Never mind. It’s late. Just sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“The fuck?” Jungkook followed, infuriated, much like the rest of the night. “I can’t do that.”

“The buses aren’t running this late,” you stated matter-of-factly. You waved him away, plopping onto your sofa with a tired exhale. “Or you can call a taxi, I guess. You want money for that?”

He smacked his hand down on the back of the sofa and scowled, bending down to intimidate you.

“I am not some kid!”

You looked up at him.

Jungkook froze, realizing the closeness.

He was naturally a very handsome man. You had always thought so. Never told him. He had probably heard it enough. He faltered, losing the fight but not yet letting go of the sofa. You observed the line of his jaw and thought about how hard he had to work to fulfill the image others had of him. How hard he worked to break that image, only to shoulder a different set of expectations, for only a certain level of coolness could combat the goodness he lost. If not one thing, then another. He must not have felt that he fit those ideals either. He couldn’t win.

You worried that he simply liked you in a vain attempt to feel some level of control.

Crestfallen, his eyes wandered, then realized he couldn’t because then he would be staring down your chest or at your thighs. He pretended that he wasn’t looking and raised his head, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

It wasn’t so much accusatory as it was a revelation.

You lowered your gaze and realized you were staring at his chest or his crotch. That was out of the question. You almost wished he would sit down next to you, but he was right. There was a moment where you considered brushing him off as you did with everyone else. Your eyes connected. As you stared into those dark brown orbs, your instincts taunted you, asking you want you were afraid of.

“There’s nothing good to know,” you admitted. “Better to keep things to myself.”

His expression told you he fucking hated that.

He looked up to the mirrors around the room. You could see he was still a bit creeped out by them and tried very hard not to say it. Your elderly landlord did often joke about how you were inviting spirits into your home with these old mirrors. You usually countered with they also symbolized fate, to which he guffawed and asked how many fates you needed.

Sometimes, it felt like you needed every chance you could get.

“I can’t sleep in your bed,” he finally concluded, steeling himself.

“Your smokes are on my nightstand. So is my lighter.”

The door to the bedroom was partway open but Jungkook even didn’t look in that direction. His ears were slowly turning scarlet. He distracted himself with your statements. “What? Why?” He frowned. “I thought you threw ‘em away.”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of money.”

He muttered under his breath. “Yeah. That’s what they are.” He looked a little ashamed. Shook his head, trying to convince himself. “Even more reason not to go in there and be tempted.” He began to step around your legs, shooing you away with a gruff, “Move.”

You didn’t move.

“You hate my bed that much even though you want to get in it?” you quipped.

Jungkook started. “That’s–”

You stood up abruptly.

It was so fast that he had no time to react. One moment you were sitting and the next you were standing right up to him with only a whisper of breath between your bodies, peering at his face. His hoodie fell off your shoulders and onto the cushions. His eyes widened, lips parting, and you witnessed him holding his breath as if that would somehow stop time.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by.

You wondered how it would feel to be held by him.

“Fine,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

And you walked around, letting him breathe again.

-

Being awake was torturous due to constantly fighting invasive thoughts. Being asleep was worse due to remaining imprisoned in those intrusive thoughts blended with uncontrolled imagination, which was your presumed explanation for your insomniac nights. Yeah. And people wondered why you kept to yourself. Such was being human, so once again you gave into the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result because it could not be avoided.

Everyone had to sleep, after all.

And you woke up a few hours later, as predicted, wrenching yourself out of a dream you didn’t want to be in, trying your best to remember none of it. You were used to it. Routine of the night, so to speak. That made it more annoying than anxiety-inducing. You laid on your back in relative silence, staring into the darkness of the ceiling and running your fingers over your sheets. A folded portion of the duvet was trapped under your left side and you impatiently yanked it out from under you, forgetting the images of betrayal in the wake of another’s selfishness.

For tonight, anyway.

There was a loud snore on the other side of your bedroom door, offending your ears at this late hour. You sat up. You had been a little surprised at Jungkook accepting your offer. Then again, everything was happening because of split decisions and obvious desires. And some logic. Just not much. You hadn’t talked much after you handed him the extra pillow from your bed and a soft fuzzy blanket. There wasn’t much to talk about, not to mention both of you were trying to pretend as if this wasn’t happening. In movies and television shows, this would have gone in a whole different direction. In reality, it was a lot more awkward and untimely.

You glanced over to the nightstand that held his cigarettes and your lighter, barely making out the outlines of the items. Maybe his initial intention really was to come just to get them. Or maybe it was to put you in a compromising position or something like that. Neither of those things happened because neither of those things were who he was, only ideas of what he thought he could be, but he hadn’t thought any of it through, so now he was snoring up a storm on your sofa without a care in the world.

Unlike you, it seemed like his sleep was solace rather than a battleground.

You tapped a finger against the bed and then sighed, pulling yourself out from under the duvet to grab a large t-shirt to pull over your head. Headed to the bedroom door and opened it quietly, slipping out to the kitchen accompanied by Jungkook’s noisy and uncoordinated nose symphony. He was facing the inside of the sofa but, unfortunately for you and fortunately for him, had powerful lungs. There wasn’t much worry about rousing him. You opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, hoping the cool liquid could refresh you somehow.

You faced the sink and took a few sips.

Was friendship even the correct word for what you and Jeon Jungkook had? It was more closeness from coincidence rather than a direct seeking out of the other. Closeness that became closer before either of you realized it, slowly losing all the people in between until only you and him were left. Maybe that was why he had a sort of fixation on you since everyone had distanced themselves for various reasons, relationships, careers, adventures. Then again, fixation seemed to be his defining feature.

You almost snorted, and would have if he wasn’t sleeping on your couch.

But maybe not, as he had paradoxical, flighty tendencies too. Always influenced by someone or some media he consumed. You weren’t without your own flaws, you knew. Deep thought and constant existential crisis didn’t exactly make for good company. Sometimes it was better not to think so much, which was why you tried to fight your instinctive nature at times. You looked over to the mirrors on the living room walls, taking another drink. They were small, not very useful as a looking glass or for nitpicking an outfit before leaving. You had not been lying when you told Jungkook that you bought them to get over your hatred of them. There was a time when you hated seeing your reflection because the person in the mirror wasn’t matching up with the person in your head.

Irrational, yes.

Reality was irrational.

You rested your ass against the bottom cabinets of your kitchen and sipped from the water bottle. You knew you weren’t a good person since you had long given up aspiring for something great. Anyone worth anything aspired for something great. Not even failure was frowned upon the in the presence of a dream nowadays. You didn’t understand why Jungkook was snoring in your apartment right now, why he cared if you got home in one piece, why he was trying so hard to quit smoking for someone like you who lived in irreverence. South Korea valued productivity, beauty, and giving away one’s humanity for the cause. Not giving a fuck made you no better than the bottom of the barrel.

You couldn’t answer what he so heavily hinted at because it just didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was just dumb.

Jungkook snored particularly loud and choked, throwing himself into a coughing fit.

You frowned and made your way over to him as he shrimped up and groaned, highly displeased and groggy from this turn of events. There was no obvious reaction to you approaching him. Either he didn’t hear you or didn’t register where he was.

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Nrgh…”

“You alright?” You kept your voice low, a level above a whisper. “Want some water?”

He said your name as if underwater. Muffled and out of it. You pulled your hand away as he turned over and sat up, squinting hard. “Uh?” He was still wearing his tank top which was now wrinkled around his waist. The top of his chest glistened with sweat. He probably usually slept shirtless and didn’t do so to be polite.

You held out the plastic bottle in your hand. “Water.”

He wasn’t thinking straight because he grabbed the bottle from you without objection, as if he wholeheartedly accepted you were the cold-water fairy of his dreams. He drank without so much of a thank you and with his lips right against the opening, crushing the latter half of what was left in only a few seconds.

“Uwah…!”

He dropped his hand, breathing out hard. You glanced at your empty hand. Comtemplated on giving him a reality check of what he just did but instead decided to let it go.

“Uh… Why are you awake?” he asked you blearily, becoming more awake by the second.

Some truths were better left unsaid for now. “Getting used to your snoring,” you mused, dropping your hand.

Jungkook seemed embarrassed. Looked from the water bottle to the coffee table behind your legs. The distance was too great for it to be casual. He clung onto it for emotional safety. “S-Sorry about that,” he mumbled, straightening his tank top and rubbing his neck.

“It’s probably a side effect of your smoking,” you commented.

He shot you an angry pout but there was no retort when you were right. “It’s probably my rhinitis,” he huffed. An uncomfortable, short silence.

Once again, both of you were reminded of a late-night call in the dead of night.

You held out your hand for the water bottle. After a moment, Jungkook handed it back. Apparently, it still hadn’t occurred to him why it was half-empty.  He seemed more curious about you being awake. You wondered that too. You gestured to the pillow.

“It’s not comfortable, is it?”

He followed your gesture and half-heartedly shrugged. “I’ll be okay.” He shot you a look. “Worried about me?” His deep, sleepy voice sounded a lot cockier than he looked. He looked like a puppy that had just woken up after napping in a weird position. His black hair was sticking up every which way.

“I’m always worried about you,” you replied with a deadpan face.

His eyes widened.

You followed up with, “You’re an idiot.”

That pissed Jungkook off. He reached up to smack you and you caught his hand in the air. That woke him up. But honestly you were losing sleep and energy fast. It made you catch his fingers at an odd angle, almost a caress, and you were too tired to care, sighing before backing away, slowly letting go of his hand. His fingertips slid over the inside of your wrist. You turned your back to him.

You headed to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the proper recycling bin.

He called your name.

“What?” you grumpily replied, straightening.

“You’re not wearing pants…” Jungkook reminded you.

You had to bend over to access the sorted trash. “Lucky you.”

His tone became gruff. “Don’t be so reckless in front of a guy.”

You half-turned and raised an eyebrow. He was still firmly seated on your sofa. “You act like I’m not standing in my kitchen next to my knives,” you pointed out, ticking your head in the direction of your knife block. “Also, are you implying that you’re a trashy guy?”

“I’m not a trashy guy,” he snapped angrily.

“Then what do I have to be worried about?” You took the steps towards your bedroom door.

“I just don’t like how you obviously have no interest in me,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, throwing himself down onto the sofa and turning his back to you.

You stopped in the doorway.

He was not provoking you. He sounded more like a kid that didn’t get his way rather than an adult trying to reverse psychology you. His words were not meant to change your mind. Yet, all of a sudden, you began to wonder what the fuck you were dancing in this limbo for. All because you didn’t want to be someone’s reason for anything? Well, congratulations, you failed. You failed your dream of a pointless existence. Woohoo. You rolled your eyes to the sky and turned around.

He was still pill-bug-positioned when you grabbed his shoulder and yanked him from the cease in the sofa, lowering your head to hiss, “Stop being a fucking brat.”

You expected him to tense up. His head jerked around and Jungkook stared at you. Wide-eyed, as if you had just pulled him out of a top hat by his ears. You glared, physically tired and tired of this shit, sliding your hand down his collarbone and cupping his chin, pulling him to better face you, tilting your head to narrow your eyes at him.

He sputtered. “W… What?”

“You heard me,” you answered in a clipped tone. “Get up.”

“Huh?”

You let go of his chin and slapped his upper arm. “Get up.”

In a tangle of long limbs and bewilderment, you yanked him up by his forearm, snatching the pillow from under him. Dragged him and his twisted blanket skirt into your bedroom. You hadn’t given him enough time to unravel himself. You let go of his forearm and slammed the pillow onto the empty right side of the bed, pointing rudely to the rumpled poof.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

Jungkook waved his hands, panic rising in his gravelly voice. “I can’t–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” you interrupted and marched behind him, shoving the small of his back. He got the hint after a short flailing about, shuffling towards the side of the bed before flopping onto the duvet like a caught tuna. He tried not to make eye contact, but you weren’t looking anyway, too busy crossing over to the other side and slinking under the duvet.

He squeaked out an, “Um…”

“Shut up,” was your automatic grumble. “Go to sleep.”

He answered in a small voice. “But… What if I snore…?”

“I know you’ll snore,” you grunted, reaching to him and pinning his shoulder down. He was above the duvet, half-wrapped in the blanket you had given him earlier. You had noticed he was still wearing his gray sweatpants so he wasn’t indecent. Not that it mattered. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I…”

You made a growling noise in warning, squinting at his face.

He gulped. “I just… Wanted to say thanks…”

You let go of him and turned your back, firmly closing your eyes. Jungkook was right there. You had a queen-sized bed. Big enough, but not so big that he could pull himself far away from you. You could feel his presence. It wasn’t a bad thing, though.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled curtly and didn’t say any more.

-

When he opened the door, he looked disheveled and distractable, noisily chewing gum, jerking his head around your periphery as if he expected you to bring an entourage to shake him down. You stood at his doorstep, perturbed. His dark eyes flickered to you and nearly bulged out of his head.

“The hell are you wearing?” Jeon Jungkook blurted without any formal or informal greeting.

You thought you would be used to it by now. It was becoming kind of funny, in a way. “These are my work clothes,” you calmly explained. It was true that he hadn’t seen you in a nice silk blouse and fitted pencil skirt before. Dark teal and jet black, respectively. “I have a job I go to.”

This was the logical answer but it was not exactly the answer Jungkook wanted. You could tell by the knitting of his brows, his still open mouth, and the way he was just staring at your hips instead of continuing the conversation. His black hair was sticking up in the back. As usual, he was wearing casual clothes. A big, light gray t-shirt and charcoal sweats.

You raised your hand and shut his jaw so you didn’t have to view his half-chewed pink gum. “You’re going to the gym, aren’t you?”

It broke him out of his trance. He looked irritated, chewing again. More than that. He looked jittery. “Yeah.” He seemed to be having a mental debate. You wanted no part of that. “I was about to drink a protein shake while waiting for you.”

“Cool,” you said in an impassive tone that indicated you had no interest in protein shakes. You reached into your mid-size black leather bag and pulled out his black sweatpants, now clean and smelling of dryer sheet. “Here, then.” You lifted your head to hold them out.

Jungkook had abandoned his front door.

A muscle in your cheek twitched. His apartment was more modern, although about the same size as yours. Space was a luxury. The door was slowly closing without the aid of someone holding it. You smacked your palm against the light wood and pushed it open, your black heels clicking on the dark gray hardwood. Or was it vinyl? Hard to tell and you didn’t care to inspect. The walls were bright cool white. His big black backpack was on the floor of the short entrance hall. It was slightly open. Black boxing gloves with yellow accents and white towels were shoved in there. You expected him to be messy but all of his sneakers were lined up against the wall. Could use a shoe rack, though.

Jungkook reappeared, gum-less this time, carrying a shake tumbler with a vanilla-colored substance in it, clanging it about with one hand and trying to be chill. As chill as a nonchalant freak-out would be.

He coughed and asked, casually, “You go dressed like that to work?”

You weren’t sure why he gave a shit about what you were wearing. “Perks of an administrative desk job. Dress code.” You waved the rolled-up sweatpants in his direction. “Take these.”

He gave you a suspicious look as if you were the one to decide societal expectations for female office wear. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“The HR department,” you replied, deadpan. “I’d get fired if I showed up to work dressed like you.”

He nodded, agreeing but not convinced. “What if someone hits on you?”

“I set them on fire.”

Jungkook gawked at you.

You dropped your outstretched arm and clicked your tongue. “I don’t do anything. No one is allowed to date a co-worker and I’m not interested in any of them,” you explained. If only he knew that you sat alone in a cramped office and reviewed budgeting for university laboratories so no one was heedlessly using government funding. It was thrilling stuff. “Why do you care if someone hits on me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course, I care. I don’t want some asshole harassing you.” Before you could tell him to look in the mirror, he muttered, “Do you really think you won’t get hurt looking that hot?”

The real answer was that you didn’t care.

You tossed his sweatpants onto his backpack while saying, “Workplace harassment is very serious. I doubt my superiors want a scandal. You’re right. I’m considered attractive, so they want to keep me as a model employee and for gender equality points.”

“What about the train?” Jungkook pressed, stepping closer.

You almost rolled your eyes. “The subway is always shitty. Everybody knows that,” you said. “I’ve been taking the subway since high school. I’m pretty good at spotting psycho now.” You looked up at him with contained venom. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” he snapped, placing his protein shake on the floor before confronting you again. “I just don’t like it.” He glared back.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like that I can take care of myself?”

“No,” Jungkook stubbornly repeated. Frustration crept into his features. “It makes me mad.”

One look at his face and it was obvious what he was implying. There was no reason to give in, though. “That sucks.” You patted the top of his chest condescendingly. “Maybe you need to see a therapist for that.”

He jerked his head towards the mound on his backpack. “Take the pants back and put them on.”

You wondered if he was being this way because he had paranoia or because he had nothing better to do. “No,” you refused. You crossed your arms. “Don’t be this way only for yourself. Plus, I just washed them.”

Like an ox, he didn’t relent. “Then I’ll get you a different pair.”

You noticed you didn’t smell the scent of smoke on him. Not strong or faint. It was obvious he didn’t smoke in his apartment, but he probably did at the roof of the complex or somewhere similar. You didn’t know him to be a heavy smoker, but it inevitably got onto his belongings. You tilted your head. There hadn’t been any smell that night a couple weeks ago when he slept over at your apartment where you had eventually forced him to snore on the bed.

You had woken up to Jungkook sprawled out, snoring into the pillow and one arm on your tits.

Explained your dream where you felt annoying pressure on your chest. That morning had been rather uneventful other than waking him up and kicking him out of your apartment. You had the decency to be more polite than that, but neither of you were in a state to talk about it. Neither of you seemed to be morning people. You simply told him you had work. He had mumbled he did too, and he had to race out to get ready in time. Only now had you found time to stop by his apartment to return his borrowed sweatpants. Maybe you had been avoiding it a little bit. Texts between you both were sparse. Asking for his address and asking if he’d be home. You peered into his dark eyes. Jungkook paused. He seemed to sense that you weren’t walling him anymore.

“When was the last time you smoked?” You made sure not to sound accusatory.

He started. “Uh…” He looked sheepish. “I’ve been trying to last a month at least…” He gestured behind him to what you assumed was the kitchen. You could see part of his living room from here but not much. His couch was cognac brown leather. “Been chewing gum and going to the gym a bunch to fight the cravings.” Frowned and sighed. “It’s hard,” Jungkook bitterly muttered. He glared. “Bet you’re loving this.”

Unluckily for him, you weren’t intimidated by puppy growls. You nodded, noncommittal, and looked down. His charcoal sweatpants looked soft. Worn in with wear. Your eyes flickered back up. His followed with slight confusion etching into his expression. You held his gaze until you felt his discomfort.

And then you made an impulsive, instinctive decision.

“I’ll agree to borrowing another pair of your pants,” you finally said. He looked relieved. “As long as I get to pick which pair.”

He seemed puzzled but shrugged. “Sure?”

You pressed for confirmation. “Agree or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook responded sharply. “What, you that desperate to raid my closet or something? Go ahead, then.” He waved a careless hand into the apartment.

But you stayed where you were. You stepped forward with a click of your heels. He stepped back in his house slippers, bewildered but still defiant, not yet realizing that you were not herding him further inside. He moved as if to let you lead the way, except you turned your body to block him, watching his every move.

His shoulder blades hit the wall.

Those big brown eyes blinked slowly. “Uh…”

You glanced down and then back up at his face.

Jungkook’s eyes tracked your movement. Didn’t get it. You repeated the dip of your chin and lashes, then back up. Dead silence. It slowly dawned onto him. You cocked your head, removing your crossed arms as his eyes became wider.

“W… What…?”

You didn’t let him hide his reaction, tracking every quiver of his lip and awkward chuckle. “They’re clean, aren’t they?” you asked as if it was the most sensible question in the world.

“Uh, well, yeah, b-but…” Jungkook stuttered, trying to decipher how serious you were or if he was even understanding the implications of your stare. “T-That’s…”

You backed up a step. “Then it’s a no?” you offered. “And you will stop trying to white knight my outfit choices?” You made yourself clear. “I won’t be changing them simply because you hate my clothes.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t hate your clothes. I like them. That is the problem,” he barked.

You gave him a blank look.

Jungkook sighed out of his nose before looking away and saying in a clipped tone, “Fine. I’ll change. Whatever.”

You moved before he could, blocking his way again.

He growled under his breath, glaring down. “What?”

You held aggressive eye contact. “We’re behind closed doors,” you reminded him. Gave him the pointed up-and-down. “Go on.”

Slight panic laced into his expression. “Uh… Are you serious?”

You already knew Jungkook wasn’t commenting on your fashion because he thought it was inappropriate. It was for the same innocuous reason that you were asking him for the charcoal sweatpants he was wearing right now. Well. Demanding.

“Deadly,” you answered him with a deadly smile.

He might be bigger and stronger than you, but he lacked the imposing audacity. You waited. He didn’t move. Ten full seconds passed. You had your answer, then. You gave him a curt nod and readjusted your grip on your work bag, about to turn away.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you back.

You backtracked to stand in front of him again. His eyes darted about somewhat nervously. “I get it…” he mumbled, still holding onto your wrist. His other hand was drifting down. He seemed uncomfortable but not in a bad way, which struck you as odd. He lifted the hem of his shirt a bit. It caught on the front tie of the sweatpants. The tips of his ears were pink. Jungkook hooked a thumb under the waistband and averted his eyes.

You reached forward and pulled on the end of the looped strings.

He nearly yelped and jerked back, causing the tie to come unraveled. You had leaned over a little to get access. Lifted your gaze to look up at his shocked face. He was speechless. You didn’t straighten up yet. Just stared into his eyes. His lips parted but no words came out.

You smiled.

He uneasily let go of your wrist. You backed out of his personal space. Jungkook gave you a strange look and stripped off his pants with a swift tug downwards, bending a knee to kick them up and into his hand, immediately holding them in front of his body.

“Here.”

He thrust the balled-up sweats into your chest. You looked at it. Then at him. Then tried to crane your head downwards.

“H-Hey!”

He waved wildly. You stumbled. He tried to catch you without dropping anything. Your hand came up to press against his chest, causing him to back against the wall again, clutching his pants in front of his crotch. You paused and searched his expression as you pulled back your hand. He was in between conflicted and stunned. His legs were quite defined. At least he didn’t skip leg day. You decided to do it. Lowered your bag to the floor so you had use of your two hands. You reached behind you for the invisible zipper of your skirt and pulled it down. Jungkook seemed to be in a perpetual state of silence. You had to wiggle slightly to free yourself of the tube of black fabric, stepping out of it primly before standing back up, leaving you in your sheer black stockings and with your blouse barely skimming the tops of your thighs.

Now both of you were holding your bottoms. One of you was simply dumbstruck. The other folded and rolled up the skirt, tucking it into your elbow, and stepped up to him. Immediately, his free hand shot up, planting right above your left breast, dark tattoos stark against his tan skin from the overhead light.

“W-Whoa, wait…!”

You tilted your head and rested your hand on the sweatpants he was now desperately clutching to his lower body. You tugged. He did not let go. You raised an eyebrow and began to lower your head. His fingertips hooked under your chin and yanked you back up to his terrified expression of wild eyes and fish mouth. You remained emotionless, giving him nothing. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I… I just need a second–”

You closed more of the distance, placing a leg in between his slightly open ones. His grip on your chin tightened. It didn’t scare you in the slightest. In contrast, big bad Jungkook looked like he was about to sink into the floor. You stilled. Maybe this was too far.

You leaned back a little but didn’t remove your leg. “A second for what?”

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze again. “U-Uh, j-j-just a s-second to breathe… that’s all,” he muttered.

“What’s the issue?” you calmly inquired.

“N-Nothing,” and that sounded like a whole lot of something.

You shifted your leg and your stocking-covered shin rubbed against his calf. Jungkook made a very strange noise and hastily pulled his hand back. You did not stop the contact. You simply watched the emotions play across his features as he shut his eyes, wordlessly mouthing swears before clenching his jaw and sliding up the wall to delicately back up.

“You sure it’s nothing?” Twice as unassuming and immediately tipping him off that you were aware of his predicament.

His brows furrowed. “Shut up.” He took in several deep breaths.

You hummed. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yes, it is,” Jungkook hissed. He cracked open one eye. “Have you no sense of danger?”

You did your best not to smile. Failed, but only just. “Not with you.”

Relief and annoyance washed over him. “Shut up,” he said again and you were beginning to realize he did not really mean for you to shut up. “Ugh.” He thrust the charcoal ball of fabric into your chest. “Here. Put it on.”

“No longer embarrassed?” you asked, catching a glimpse of his partial erection.

Jungkook pointedly looked away from you and stared at his own front door. “I’m not embarrassed. Put the pants on, damnnit. I can’t look at you.”

“Sure, you can,” you quipped as you slipped on his sweatpants. “I’m sure you’ve checked me out at some point.”

He sucked in the side of his cheek sharply. “It’s not the same. And, besides…” He trailed off.

You smoothed out the front and tightened the strings. Jungkook reluctantly brought his gaze back to you, checking you out. You tugged your blouse out of the pants a bit to give the two disharmonious pieces more balance. You filled out the top of his pants a bit more because of your ass. The whole ensemble was a little odd, but only if one looked too closely.

He frowned. “Why do you look good?”

“It’s the heels,” you absentmindedly replied. “Besides, what?”

For a moment, you thought Jungkook wasn’t going to respond. But then his eyes raised, locking to yours determinedly. “If I can make it to a month, then…” He faltered before regaining his composure. “No, I will make it to a month. And all the rest. But when you see how serious I am, then… Then I want you to seriously consider me.”

Now it was your turn to avert your eyes. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Guilt settled as you realized that he was more intuitive than you gave him credit for. But you came back to him, eventually. His dark brown orbs lit up as you spoke.

“Sure.”

-

In a surprising turn of events, Jeon Jungkook actually greeted you with a breathless, “Hey,” for once when you answered his call, only to follow that up with, “The fuckin’ gym is closed, fuck.”

You blinked at your phone, put it on speaker, and tucked it into one of your upper kitchen cabinets to prop it up. It was not a video call. However, your hands were currently occupied. “I’m sorry,” you replied dryly, turning down the vent fan.

“Ugh, I really needed it today,” he grumbled, mostly at himself rather than at you. You heard the sounds of traffic and the white noise of wind. “And it’s cold tonight, hmph.”

You mentally calculated the day as you picked up the plate and tongs again. “Why was it closed? It’s not a holiday as far as I know.”

“I dunno. Note on the door said family emergency, so I guess I’ll find out later from the manager,” he said absentmindedly. It was a bit weird that Jungkook was treating this like small talk when he almost never called. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do or say about his predicament, so you began to place the slices of meat onto the hot pan, which immediately began loudly sizzling with popping oil. It must have picked up on the microphone. You heard a startled noise and then, “Whatchu doing?”

“Making dinner. And meal prepping at the same time, since I’m already cooking,” you replied, nudging the slices to fit all the meat in. Hm. Wouldn’t be the first time. Hm.

“What are you making?” He was sounding a bit too eager.

“Braised vegetables and pan-fried samgyeopsal,” you answered, reminding yourself to check under the lid. The bok choy and enoki mushrooms were just barely done. You quickly removed it from the heat before returning it the sizzling pork belly.

“Ugh.” He sounded jealous. “I’m jealous.” Guess he was. You found yourself smiling and quickly stopped, lightly adding a little flaky salt before starting the process of turning them over. You might die from a heart attack but not without a full belly of pork belly. “You’ve made me hungry. Maybe I’ll go get some ice cream.”

You mused. “Gym closed, so ice cream on a cool night is the solution?” The edges of pork belly were becoming that sweet golden caramel. Your kitchen was becoming decadently fragrant.

“This night is shit, anyway,” Jungkook complained. “I’d come over but you’d kick me out.”

You paused at his words. Then you busied yourself with taking the plate to the sink while raising your voice so he could hear you. “I didn’t kick you out last time.”

There was a short muteness that your both mutually agreed on before he sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll go home without the ice cream.”

You tutted. “I’m not the food police. Go get your ice cream if you want to.” You began to portion out the vegetables into the glass tupperware that you had already lined up.

“Nah,” he muttered. He really enjoyed this seesaw, huh. To be honest, you didn’t mind it. Maybe calling it fun too out of line, but. “I shouldn’t go into the convenience store, anyway. I don’t wanna break my streak.”

Only stubbornness could solidify self-restraint, it seemed. You checked the pork belly. It was done, so you turned off the fire and began to plate up your soon-to-be and future meals. Took less time because you had boiled the samgyeopsal first to keep the meat tender, removed it before it was completely cooked through, sliced it, and then pan-fried to completion. You plated the last of the vegetables, added the final helping of pork belly, and drizzled a bit of soybean paste on top. A small part of you wanted to take a photo and send it to Jungkook. Rub it in, perhaps. You picked up your phone and opened the camera app.

“Hey.”

“Uh?”

You filled the photo space with a close-up shot of your simple meal and sent it to him. “Check your messages.”

There was a scuffle and Jungkook grunted before gasping and then bringing his phone back to his ear. “Hey, fuck you.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

“Man… You suck.” He didn’t know the half of it. He was mumbling a tantrum on the street. “Ugh, now I’m so hungry... And mad. I’m mad at you.”

In between tee-hees and bites of your dinner, you placed your phone onto the counter. “If you buy me lunch, I’ll let you have one of mine,” you joked. Mmm, the meat was cooked just right. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

“No… I can’t do that,” he grumbled, taking your joke seriously. He scoffed. “Instead, I’ll bring a steak and make you cook it for me.”

“Steak?” You considered his suggestion. “Sure, I can cook steak.”

“Hah, see, you won’t – wait…” You heard a sputter and what sounded like a tumble. Or maybe the beginnings of one caught in the middle. He did have good reflexes. “O… Oh.” He sounded winded. “I thought you were… Thought you were gonna refuse.”

You nibbled on some delicious enoki mushroom. “Why?” You knew full well why. Just wanted to make him squirm. Also, him thinking you couldn’t cook a steak annoyed you. As if you didn’t know the value of medium rare. Hmph.

“A-Ah… Well.” He coughed and promptly changed the subject as embarrassed people do. “Are you eating right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’s very tasty. I did a good job.”

You could him suck in an inhale of childish disappointment. “I’m suffering here.”

“No one is asking you to.”

“Hmmmm, I don’t like this.” And yet he stayed on the line. It sounded like he was jogging the streets. Maybe trying to arrive home faster and keep his body temperature up.

You imagined it. Then you told yourself to stop that. “Do you have something to eat at home?”

“There’s probably something,” Jungkook puffed. “Probably not as good, but I’ve got freezer stuff. I can cook, though,” he insisted.

You hadn’t questioned it. But you did now. “Hm, really?” You half-smiled in between bites of bok choy.

“Yes, really.” Very adamant. “Someday,” he added, in the tone of someday proving it.

You remembered the last time he was in your kitchen. The last time he was in your apartment. You looked down to the cropped black t-shirt and the familiar charcoal sweatpants you were wearing. The scene was set. Still, it didn’t clarify how to feel about it. Answers were usually simple. Believing them was a different story. He called your name. Without thinking, you answered right away.

“Mhm?”

“I’m home,” Jungkook grunted.

Maybe you supposed to pop confetti. You let it go and asked, “Less angry about your lack of gym time?”

“Not really.” But he did sound less stressed somehow. Maybe it was the cardio of the jog. “I guess I gotta find something to eat now. Lemme put you on speaker.”

The number of times he could have hung up increased. And yet he hadn’t done so yet. You were almost finished eating. You could have ended the call right now. Said you were busy and done your chores without further distraction. It just didn’t feel right. That said enough. Well, at the very least, you thought you should accompany him on his food adventure.

He exclaimed loudly. “Ah! I found some corn ice cream at the bottom of my freezer! Nice!”

Your palm made contact with your forehead. “I guess you must be the gods’ lucky one,” you mused, mopping up your last bite. Time to clear the kitchen. Sad.

“You know it,” he cheered.

You heard him ripping open the plastic with gusto. Would have sounded cocky if it wasn’t for his barely audible happy noises. You began to tidy up the kitchen to distract yourself. Putting away spices, collecting the various cooking utensils into the sink, wiping down counters, putting the lids on the now cooled-down meals. You stacked them in the fridge. You didn’t try to hide what you were doing but, then again, Jungkook was seemingly too mesmerized by his ice cream to speak. Amidst your domestic tasks, you saw the parallels of being in the same place in your respective apartments, both together and apart at the same time with only a thread of technology connecting each other, and you glanced at your phone screen, wondering if he had hung up on you. The call was still active.

Such a mundane existence.

And yet.

You stood by your sink, the washing up the last to do, and you abandoned it to stand by your phone. It seemed so… annoying to have simple enjoyments taken away by complicated thoughts. Maybe there was a better word for it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that you were listening to Jungkook enjoying his small happiness of the day and wondered if he intentionally or unintentionally shared it with you. Wondered if the intention even mattered in the face of what was.

You broke the relative silence. “When do you want me to cook that steak for you?”

The faint sound of licking lips. He must have scooted closer to his phone, because the volume of his words was louder than the sounds from earlier. “Uh…” You waited. “I think my one month of no cigarettes is coming up soon. Maybe then…?” He trailed off awkwardly.

The crumpled pack was still on your nightstand next to your lighter. You hadn’t touched either. They were collectively collecting dust. You opened your mouth, reconsidered, and then said what was on your mind.

“I never hated you just because you smoked.”

Maybe it was better that you couldn’t see each other. “Yeah, but…” He let out a breath. “It was the reason why you didn’t want to be around me.”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I get it, though,” Jungkook muttered softly. “I didn’t really want to be around myself either. Maybe I haven’t had any great failures, but… That means I haven’t had a chance to grow from hardships. Coasting, sort of. I need to push myself to be better, because I’m definitely not where I’m supposed to be.”

Your eyes raised which caused you to realize you had dipped your head. You wondered who put those thoughts in his head, but the answer was all around you. In the subtext of conversation of strangers, friends, family.

“It’s weird,” he continued, maybe forgetting you could hear him slurp in between words or because his ice cream was rapidly melting. “I was talking to a friend about you and he asked me if you ever needed anything from me, ever.” He sucked in a breath. “Tch. I kinda hate that, but also it made me realize… Isn’t that the most natural I’ve ever been with anyone? No expectations… Maybe even negative.” He laughed a little, and you could imagine him shaking his head. “Is this how you want to spend your life? No. I want to be someone that you might need someday.”

You didn’t say anything about him talking about you to other people. It was slightly funny of him to think of you as an enigma when you felt that you were so simple, really. Maybe that made you the root of his complicated thoughts. Maybe not. He was right in that you did your best to not depend on others, even going out of you way to not need others. Not expecting anything from them to not be disappointed. You didn’t see that changing anytime soon, but, an exception?

All rules had them.

“I’m looking forward to making you that steak,” you chuckled. “I need to finish up the dishes, so I’ll let you go. For now.”

“A-Ah…” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Okay. S… See ya.”

You half-smiled. Even though he couldn’t see it, you were sure that he could hear it in your tone. “You will,” and you ended the call.

-

You found a small package addressed to you in your mailbox. No return address, no postage, but it had relatively neat handwriting that seemed familiar somehow. You tucked the soliciting letters under your arm as you re-locked your postage box. The packaging was brown paper. You turned it over in your hand.

For your collection. Jeon Jungkook.

You almost snorted. He could have. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt odd, so you quickly walked back to your apartment, shouldering your mail and your work bag, fitting the small package into your palm. The mail room was on the ground floor. You went up the flights of stairs to the far-left unit. Unlocked your front door and went in, using your shoulder to push it open.

You closed the door behind you before you opened the brown-paper wrapped parcel.

The outside packaging unfurled. Tissue paper and a bit of foam. Something told you he didn’t pack this. This was the work of the elderly who sold it to him. Smooth steel. But you felt something on the side against your palm. You turned the disc around. It was one of those snap-close clay art mirrors. The kind delicately handmade by a practiced artisan’s hands. You ran your finger over it, entranced by the ridges and matte texture. The focal point was the gradient of orange depicting tiger lilies. The background was black, making the small imagery stand out.

Tiger lilies, huh.

You opened the pocket mirror and saw your bewildered expression staring back at you. Your initial compulsion was to look away. Your intrusive thoughts interrupted, asking you if you really hated what you saw. You looked and your reflection looked back. You lifted the mirror slightly, inspecting your makeup. You barely wore any to just barely get away with it at work. It still looked good.

You half-smiled.

“You’re so fucking full of it, Jeon Jungkook,” you chuckled, tucking the mirror into the pocket of your work bag before going about the rest of your night.

-

He was quite excited for steak day until you made him speechless.

“U-uh, hey! Ahem. Hey. I have the steaks. You didn’t say if I should bring vegetables, so I also got cabbage, carrots, shitake mushrooms, I didn’t know, I guessed, sorry, and I can help cook if you need someone to watch the vegetables while, uh, I can chop or clean or anything at all… um, why are you dressed like t-that…?”

If it was his plan to greet cool, calm, and collected, he failed. You opened your apartment door to gum-chewing, wide-eyed, rambling Jeon Jungkook wearing a baggy but heavyweight white button-up and dark blue jeans with white contrast stitching. Black belt with a bright gold buckle. The hem of the jeans draped well over his black laced boots. His black leather jacket was jammed in the crook of his elbow with the groceries. His jacket had silver zippers, which didn’t match his belt. The button-up was done all the way up to his neck, which didn’t suit him.

You let him go on his rant and tried not to smile.

The situation was not exactly funny. It was obvious that he was out-of-sorts by the frantic way he was gnawing on his gum like his life depended on it. You had to wait for him to take a breath. He was too far gone in his speech for you to interrupt him. You almost dared to call it adorable. Didn’t because that wasn’t part of your image even though clearly Jungkook had completely broke the image he wanted to craft for himself over his entire time of knowing you. For his sake, you pretended nothing was amiss. You simply took the groceries from his hands while saying, “Change of plans.”

His jaw was slack. You could see the pink wad of gum stuck to his molars. Lovely. “E-Eh?”

You noticed his black hair looked a little messy and windswept. It was longer now, too, giving him an unintentional rockstar vibe. Thankfully his brain was too preoccupied with being unable to catch up to the moment to notice you noticing him. You backed up into your apartment to place the bags on your kitchen counter, busying yourself with putting everything into your refrigerator.

“I want to take you somewhere,” you said to the shelves of your fridge, clearing out space. Oh, wow. He really did buy high-grade steak. Two of them. And a giant head of cabbage. “I don’t like carrots,” you commented. “But I’ll make them for you and you can take home the rest.”

He sputtered with the elegance of a caught bluefin tuna. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t – T-Take me somewhere?”

In the middle of placing the last thing, the bundle of carrots, into the fridge, you said it.

“Yes. I want to take you on a date.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure if it would come out as confidently as you heard yourself, but there was no going back now. You had debated before this day had come, turning over the tiger lily pocket mirror in your hand at night. Debated if the unwillingness was worth it and decided it wasn’t. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was thinking the same thing you were, but then he showed up. Over-dressed. Vibrating with nervous energy. Talking too fast. One look at him and you knew. You could think you had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t true. You turned around to see Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression at the entrance of your apartment and you knew.

Despite never believing in anything and thinking everything was going to shit, well, you might as well go down with a feeling of a life well-lived.

“A d… date…?”

You closed the door of your refrigerator. “A date. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you?”

He looked like he hadn’t. “I… uh… Yes?” You had meant the light jab to bring Jungkook back to Earth but both of you were currently stuck on cloud nine. “Is that why you…?” His hand raised and made a vague gesture.

Your own hand raised to smooth back your hair from your bare shoulder. “Ah. Yes.” Since your closet was mostly made up of comfy, work, and concert outfits – in that order – that amount of classy date pieces were slightly nonexistent. You had one black dress made of a slinky soft ribbed texture that was what you ended up wearing. It reached the floor, which suited the night climate of this time of year. The rest of it was quite sexy, though. The fabric made the dress cling to and accentuate your curves. The straight neckline and thin straps were maybe too flattering. Jungkook’s eyes were certainly wandering to the general area of your collarbones. You usually wore this dress in a very specific way, which you intended to do so tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to let him admire.

Yeah.

Admire was definitely the word.

Just like how you were letting him admire you walking up to him, sending him into a mild panic, knowing exactly what you were doing but trying not to think about it, instead focusing on what had been bugging you ever since you had seen it. “This… I’m sorry, but this doesn’t suit you,” you muttered, unfastening the first few buttons of the shirt and shaking it out to a more relaxed collar. He smelled good. Oh, wow, he smelled very good. Bergamot and cedarwood, it seemed. “It looked too stuffy.” You noticed the thin gold chain underneath. Oh. Perhaps the unintentional mixing of gold and silver was intentional after all. You righted the chain so it was more visible, his warm skin under your cool fingertips, and maybe you were imagining it or was that a shiver between you and him at the contact?

Your hands awkwardly hovered over his chest.

It was hard to look up but you made yourself do it.

Jungkook seemed startled but at the very least thawed from the initial shock. “O-Oh, but…” Surely he was not staring at your cleavage. Surely. You might have put it right in his line of vision, but, surely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s c-cold outside. At least…”

It was certainly an exaggeration to call it slow-motion, and yet somehow that was the only way to describe it because now you were the one frozen in extended seconds as he tumbled his leather jacket into his palm, grabbing it by the collar and lifting it up, up and to his left hand, flaring it out with a loud flap before draping worn-in warmth over your shoulders. The sudden weight caused you to tilt forward lightly. Your open palms pressed against his chest to steady yourself. His hands stayed on your shoulders. Both of you were staring at each other for too long.

At least no one was here to record it.

He spoke first. ‘I, uh, I took a lot of my clothes to professional cleaners,” Jungkook said quietly. “Since… It gives me a good reason to not… It cost a lot.” His ears were probably as red as yours.

You inhaled, raising your chest, and noticed how new the leather smelled despite him owning it for a while now. Your faint smile was now inevitable. “I really appreciate it,” and you did. He didn’t have to, and he did.

The light in his eyes must have been your imagination. “R… Really?” Or maybe not. He was breathless and there was no obvious cause for it.

Never in wildest dreams and insomniac nights and daytime silence full of running thoughts could you have created this present time where you felt that you saw him and he saw you. From all the gray haze moments of the past to those bright uncertain days of small happiness in the future, you knew you could do it alone, but, for once, it seemed unbearable to do so.

You leaned up and kissed him.

Your eyes had closed as you tilted your head to close the distance. Maybe you should have considered seeing his surprise. Maybe you were too nervous to. It was only a simple press of lips-to-lips. Still, you found respite. A strange tingle shot through you as you felt Jungkook kiss you back. Somehow, you felt his relief of you taking charge of a moment that he had wanted to happen for a long time.

After a savored moment, both of you broke apart.

Afraid to overstep. Slightly shocked that that just happened. You snuck a peek. It was impossible to not call him adorable and thankfully you were too high off the moment to say anything. He caught your eye. You let him, gracing him a coy curve of your lips.

His cheeks bloomed pink. “Y-You… You wanna wear my jacket?”

You lightly shook your head, reaching up to touch the back of his hand. “You’ll be cold. I was going to wear a sweater over my dress,” you explained. His expression fell a little bit despite your logic. “But I wanted to wait to see what colors you were wearing so that I could choose something that pairs well. It would be nice to match somewhat, right?” Immediately Jungkook perked up again.

It was just a damn hot pot date. Why were you both grinning like idiots? The world never did make any sense, hmph.

-

In spite of best efforts, you dozed off on his shoulder.

Dinner had been a little bit awkward. Not so awkward it was unpleasant, but enough where you had to pull yourself together to bring him back to his usual self. You wore a fluffy, thick, cropped white sweater over your black dress, giving you some much needed warmth for the cool night and giving Jungkook back his sanity. Then you took it away by hooking your arm into his, holding onto him as you both rode the train in thoughtless silence. The hot pot restaurant had newly opened and was packed with curious customers. In a stroke of luck, the host managed to find seating due to your small party size. After a brief explanation, you made a beeline for the lineup of ingredients. It had taken a mountain of vegetables, shrimp, and fishcakes on a plate to break Jungkook out of his trance.

“W-Woah! You eat that much?”

You had tilted your head. “We’re sharing. Duh.”

A flash of annoyance. “How do you know what I like to eat?”

“What don’t you like to eat?” you countered.

Jungkook puffed a cheek. “That’s not the point!”

It wasn’t the most deep of conversations. Still, it did bring you both some peace to know that you hadn’t lost what you already had. There was always that fear and it was good to know that the fear was unfounded.

“I only want one egg.”

He spoke over you, “Too bad, you’re getting two,” using one hand to crack another to poach in your boiling bone broth. You made a face at him as you mixed minced onions and garlic into your chili oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce combination. He waved a third egg at you threateningly. You were adversely terrified. He became distracted by your concoction. “Let me try.”

“No. I’ll make you your own.”

“We’re sharing.”

“There are limits,” and you promptly walked off to do just that. For his credit, he didn’t snatch your hard work. Might have been because his food wasn’t finished cooking yet. Semantics. “It’s my treat, by the way.”

Irrtation was going to permanently furrow his brows if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t need your charity. Besides, you’re hurting my pride as a man.”

You cried for him. “Boo hoo.” Sarcastically.

“You’re not paying.”

“You wanna fight?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Kinda if you keep this up.”

You pretended to lift your sweater.

Jungkook almost threw himself over the two boiling pots of broth. “Gah! What do you think you’re doing?!” He tried not to yell, hissing low between his teeth. “You’re crazy!”

“Putting you in your place,” you answered dryly.

His expression was between flabbergasted and aghast. “D-Don’t do that!”

Not the deepest of conversations. You smiled. He noticed, and looked away quickly, his ears turning pink as he busied himself ordering plates of meat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to cook the steaks like you had originally promised. It would have made a great first date, even. And yet. Yet, you didn’t want to, because for some reason following the original plan felt symbolic of something ending instead of a beginning. You were confident in your cooking, and still the possibility of even the slightest failure made it so that you couldn’t relax. Maybe it was selfish to drag out a promise. Nothing about Jungkook’s demeanor indicated he was against it, though.

“What?”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out in his direction. “Nothing. Just…” He frowned. You almost wanted to ask him if he was disappointed by this turn of events. He was already shoving a plateful of thinly-sliced flat iron steak into his hot pot. “Just realized we’re only here now because of a cigarette and a lighter.”

His eyes cast downward. “I’m sor–” he began.

“Who knew a bad decision could turn into such a good one.”

Jungkook snapped his head back up, surprised. You gave him an impassive expression complete with a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. He tried to hide it. He wasn’t as good at it as you were.

“Yeah. I guess…”

He sounded a little too happy for that lukewarm response. You reached into your bag, pulling out a pocket mirror to needlessly check your makeup. He noticed the tiger lilies nestled in your palm and positively beamed. You did your best to wipe your stupid smile off your face and clipped it closed to resume the meal. The rest of the dinner was similar. Well, largely focused on how many plates of shabu-shabu meat both of you could consume to make the restaurant regret seating you. At the very least, Jungkook had been impressed with your gall.

Points gained there, heh.

So, now, in spite of best efforts, Jungkook leaned his head against yours and dozed off with you on your sofa, curled up under the same blanket he had used to sleep over some nights ago. Sleep came a little too easily with full bellies. He had asked if he could sit down for a bit before heading back to his place. Because, you know, it wasn’t good if he became drowsy while driving his motorcycle. You had shrugged, casually, turning on your television to whatever late-night show was on to provide some form of mild entertainment. Distraction, really, so neither of you felt pressure to talk.

Turned out, falling asleep told you more than any conversation.

It might have been the food. The comfort of the blanket. Someone familiar being there. Whatever the cause, the stars aligned and you knew what it meant. One instance of sleep arriving quickly did not mean that you would never have a restless night again. It did not mean everything was different. But it did mean that what was already there wasn’t a lie. You thought you had done enough to spite him, but best efforts were useless in a wake of loud, hard-headed, brash Jeon Jungkook. It shouldn’t work. You were reclusive, blunt, guarded. An unfathomable match, and yet you could never seem to shake him. Apparently his fondness for you was so strong that continued meetings were inevitable. The prospect of the next time had become a regular instance. Monotone days were suddenly saturated with unexpected melodies. You kept telling yourself there was nothing else better to do than to put up with his antics.

There had been no real reason for you to believe that he would change.

He just did so he could define his own ideal of worthy.

Unconsciously, Jungkook was sinking into the cease of the sofa, into dreamlessness, taking you down with him into the cushions. You dozed practically on top of him, unknowingly nestling into his waning embrace. If you had your wits about yourself, you might have given him more conspicuous space, but he was so warm that you forgot that you didn’t typically like physical touch. Or maybe you didn’t mind as much because you knew deep down that he liked it. It was a small sacrifice for his happiness. Something like that. Ah. Right. Anyway, eventually you awoke to no-context ruckus on the television screen. Annoyed, you pawed for the remote on the coffee table and blindly turned it off. You wouldn’t have even bothered to open your eyes except for the fact that you were clearly on top on Jungkook, oh, and so you blinked slowly, line of vision shifting, realizing he wasn’t asleep.

He was pretending to be.

You placed a hand on his chest. One of his eyes cracked open. You raised an eyebrow. He almost jumped out of his skin. Probably not expecting you to be staring at him.

“Were you watching?” you asked.

“N-Not really…” Discomfort laced into his expression. “Um… You’re on my left knee a little weird.”

You shifted quickly. “Sorry.”

Relief. “No, uh, I fucked it up a bit while boxing a couple days ago,” Jungkook sighed. You could feel his inhale through your hand on his chest that you still hadn’t removed. “Think I hit it at a weird angle.”

You pointed out the obvious. “You’re not supposed to use your legs in boxing.”

He sent you the gift of a classic eye-roll complete with the bow of a scowl. “I lost my balance and fell.”

You calm expression didn’t change as you added, “Bad knees are the first sign of aging.”

His dark eyes narrowed into slits. “You–”

And proceeded to grab you by the waist. You shot up instinctively, straddling his hips, and your hand on his chest slid up. His eye went wide. He froze. You froze, realizing what you were doing. His hands were loosely around your waist with his fingers flaring out over the top of your ass. You moved your hand, resting it on his shoulder. Not on the offensive but on edge. You did your best to hold his gaze while in the precarious position. He immediately apologized.

“S-Sorry.”

“No, ah…” You shook your head. “I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t have moved to choke him out just because he was horsing around yet it was hard to really know with men these days. Still, thinking of Jungkook in that way after everything he had done for you was unfair. “I’m too used to having to protect myself.”

There was a sea of regret in those dark brown orbs. “I wasn’t going to…” Hurt you, and that part was obvious. He frowned, realizing your reaction and words said what needed to be said without saying it. “I promise. I’m not like that.”

You stared into his eyes. “I know,” and you did.

His expression became determined. “No, really.” He frowned. “I can’t help–”

You cut him off. “Is that why you have a hard-on right now?”

Dead.

Silence.

The cushions of your sofa were old, causing your knees to sink in further due to the prolonged concentrated points of pressure. You looked down. He looked up. Nobody moved. You had thought about it. Maybe. Not in any deep sense so as to not set any unrealistic expectations. He had very clearly thought about it if the rising tent of your dress in between your legs was any indication. You weren’t able to fully sit down on his crotch due to space constraints, but, even with jeans on, the distance down there was dwindling.

In short, Jungkook was obviously packin’.

You raised your eyebrows. He grimaced. He was trying not to stare at your thighs spread over him or how easily your waist fit in his hands. “Listen… Uh.” Brave of him to break the silence. “I… I’m not a disgraceful kinda guy, okay? I wasn’t planning anything. And I’m seriously serious.” His voice deepened as his eyes darted about. “Serious about…” His gaze lifted, navigating to yours.

Your lips parted, understanding him perfectly well.

However, your dress was stretching too uncomfortably. Distracted, you broke eye contact, reaching down to yank the hem from under your knee while extending your other leg to the ground to maintain balance. The fabric bunched up to your hips, draping over his lower body. You felt the friction of his jeans against your bare inner thighs. Then, you felt the friction in his jeans pressing up in between your legs.

Well.

That would be the expected result, huh.

Jungkook was beside himself. “W-W-What are you do–”

You raised your head. He stiffened. Everywhere. He was still holding you by the waist. Time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, much like whatever this was. You made eye contact, diving into those wide eyes, searching for something to be afraid of. The scariest thing about all this was how readily he matched up with your intent to cross all the lines.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” you asked him.

His voice quivered. More out of poorly contained excitement rather than anxiousness.

“Are you crazy? Of course I wanna fuckin’ kiss you.”

There was no good reason for care-about-nothing you and caring-too-much Jeon Jungkook should match up well, and yet perhaps that was precisely the reason these puzzle pieces fit together. He lifted his torso from the sofa far too easily, meeting you halfway. With one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his chest, your lips brushed against his. Inhale, and his warm citrusy cologne mixed with his natural scent filled your lungs. He tilted his head, closing the distance. There was no pressure of a good first kiss as it was already over with. He pulled you closer.

A kiss was not particularly special, but everything about him was.

Terrifying.

As the saying went, you felt the fear and did it anyway.

Lips to lips, electric. Your fingertips gliding over his skin, spreading the button placket before descending, unraveling him like a flower, your tongue tracing the edge of his lips. His breath hitched. His hands on your waist tighter, turning, and you adjusted accordingly, letting him sit back against the sofa with you on his lap. His fingers slid under your sweater, fanning over your back like unraveling petals as you unbuttoned his shirt, drinking in his gasps. Sinking deeper. He tugged your sweater upwards and you released him for a moment to lift your arms, arching your spine, shedding the white onto the floor. His hands on the small of your back lifted you in return, and you arrived to the view of his own white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders, revealing tan skin and his hard work at the gym.

Your eyes trailed upwards and Jungkook hesitantly smiled, uncertain of what you were thinking.

You dipped your head and licked up his chest.

“Whoa, wha–aah, f-fuck…”

Perhaps this was a strange thought but you felt this compulsion to taste his skin. You pushed his head back and crossed his neck with kisses. Teeth. Tongue. You felt his fingertips press into your back, his hips rise, a moan bubble up in his chest. He tried to speak between gasps, his hands sliding down to your ass as you licked up to his jaw, intoxicated by the taste of his skin.

“I didn’t r-realize… o-oh…”

You flicked his earrings with the tip of your tongue, dissipating your breath so it was whisper soft against his jaw. “Deep down, you knew there was more under this surface,” you murmured and as you said it you thought of black water but the reality was reflected all over the walls, in small snapshots of mirrors from older and modern times. Yes, a mirror was the more apt imagery. Your tongue coiled around his ear, whispering his name low and slow. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t think you were crazy…” Jungkook gasped. He pressed you down onto his lap, hiking your dress up further. An exhale drifted past your ear. “I didn’t say I didn’t l-like it…”

With a single finger, you turned his head to face you. Half-moon eyes hazy with lust. He ticked his head, putting on the bad boy front you always knew was a front, and you rocked your hips against his to create the rhythm. He sucked in a breath, your name on the tip of his tongue, and you placed your lips against his temple to ensure that he could feel every word as much as he could hear it.

“No matter who came before you, I hope you outmatch them all.”

He viewed you from his periphery.

You smiled in a dangerous way.

There was the briefest moment where he mirrored your smirk and then he lowered his head, catching you off guard with his lips against your pulse. By instinct, your fingers laced into his black hair, tilting your head to give him more access. Your eyes wandered among the walls. In smoked glass. In craved frames. From every angle, snapshots of Jungkook kissing down your neck and you pulling the straps of your dress aside, pressing his head downwards. His lips over your collarbones created an intricate network of pinpointed pleasure, blossoming, overlapping, your nerves singing. You hooked a finger down the center of the neckline, dragging it to a risqué level. His warm breath washed over your skin.

Anticipation on a knife’s edge.

You gazed down through the shadows of your lashes. He was watching you through his own. Wondering without words. So many times Jungkook had asked for a light to ignite his addiction. You saw the writing on the wall before he did.

You tugged the top of your dress downward.

“Fuck…”

You fanned your hands over your ribs pushing your bare breasts upward. Little did he know there was a shelf bra in the dress. Probably didn’t care. He clenched his jaw and frowned slightly, his cock throbbing from below. You could feel it because you were sitting on it.

“It’s annoying that you know how hot you are. Stop knowing how to act hot too.”

You wondered if he ever looked in a mirror. “That’s rich coming from a guy that works out to make his chest big.”

He pressed his lips together before grumbling, “So…?”

You lifted you body and put your tits right in front of his face. He tried to throw you off as his lips made contact, but then was immediately distracted with the taste, running his tongue over your nipple with a moan. Strong hands on your waist again. Your own hand slid down the crown of his head, sliding in between the collar of his shirt and his shoulder muscles, caressing them as you felt sparks from his light sucking. He kissed across your chest to access the other and you breathed out, electric and erotic, your nails turning inward.

His groan was gravelly, rough from pleasure.

“Ugh, fuck, scratch me.”

You dug your nails inward and he whined into your chest, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against your nipple. You moaned to the ceiling, arching your back, and now both of your hands were on his shoulders, creating a crisscross pattern of pink under his shirt collar. There was no rhyme or reason, only instinct. Jungkook growled, taking a swift moment to yank his arms out of his shirt before pawing at your hands to explore more, touch more, repaying you with divine lips and tongue. Either he liked pain or he loved pain. Hm. You had your opinions but you kept them to yourself.

You laced your fingers into his hair, arching your back. He extended his tongue and instead of him licking upwards, you curved your body downwards, only losing contact when it was physically impossible. You lowered your head slowly. Your tongue traced your lips. He was breathing in shallow, perfumed breaths tainted with your taste. Pupils dilated. Under the influence.

You stared into his dark eyes. “You can still stop.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. I was in it before you were.”

He wasn’t wrong. Time moved too fast and too slow at the same time. You slid off his lap, gripping the side of your dress and pushing them down your hips. He rose, entranced, and you backed up, out of the way of the coffee table. In the room of mirrors – the living room – clothes began to slide to the floor one by one. Your tousling of his black hair had made it gone rogue, draping over his eyes as he tugged the back of his shirt out of his pants and let it fall. You took another step back while reaching forward, pulling apart his belt buckle. He glanced down as he was tugged forward. With one eye on you, he pulled the strap from the pin. You held the buckle. Pulled. He guided the black leather to smooth exit. For a few moments, you had him by the leash of his belt, dragging him into the bedroom.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

From the look on his face, he remembered.

You held onto the belt after it made its escape, twirling it around in your hand. Jungkook’s dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t.” You didn’t say anything and that was more alarming. “Do not even think about it,” he warned, his tone becoming lower, gruff. You smiled. You flicked your wrist and he halted.

You coiled the black leather around your thigh.

Tightened it by crossing the ends.

Oh, he was looking now.

“Don’t what?” you taunted, turning as you reached the end of the bed. Instead of lifting your knee to the edge of the mattress, you gripped the crossed straps of his belt and hoisted your leg upwards, adding a little bounce of your ass as you looked over your shoulder.

He didn’t expect the showmanship. His mouth squeaked out an, “Are you serious?”

Muscles, tattoos, and he still didn’t know what to do with all that. Your other hand grazed the curve of your ass to the hem of your seamless panties, hooking a finger over the edge and tugging it towards the center dip.

“Okay, fuck, you’re gonna make me bust in my damn jeans,” Jungkook muttered, looking annoyed at the tent in his pants. His hand was already undoing the button. You smiled, releasing your leg, walking over to the nightstand by the bed. The box of unused cigarettes was still there along with your lighter. You only glanced at them, dropping his belt to the side and opening the drawer, pulling out a string of condoms.

Turned around and Jungkook shot you a disbelieving look with his cock sticking out of his pants. Still in his boxer briefs, so obviously hard that he was past the open zipper. You didn’t back down, approaching him with his death sentence dangling from your fingers.

He tried not to seem flustered. “You’re busy, huh?”

You stopped in front of him, tilting in your head. “Busy waiting for you to make a move.”

He sucked the inside of his cheek. “Tch. Am I supposed to believe that?”

“You tell me.”

You sat down on the bed, placing the condoms within easy reach. Crossed your legs. Stared into his eyes, daring him to believe that you were lying. You saw bite his lip. Looking you up and down, so you did the same, watching him shove his jeans down further. You ticked your head.

“Or maybe just don’t fall for my tricks, hm?”

And you fell back onto the bed, lifting your legs, reaching under. Put your weight on your shoulders while you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your panties, pulling up, up, slipping one leg out. Then the other. Flicked your wrist and sent it flying. Then you spread your legs to reveal his stunned face.

You pulled a condom oof the line and held it out to him.

He looked uneasy, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away. “Uh… You sure?” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking. He was trying to flip it on you.

You smiled. Casually. “I give you permission to find out.”

This did not ease Jungkook’s worries. He was too busy to staring at your pussy to formulate any more sentences, though. He took the condom from your hand, pushing down his black underwear. You looked. He saw you look. Confirmed that he didn’t work out because he was lacking in his pants, that was for sure. Your gaze went back to his face. He didn’t know what to think about your reaction, because you purposefully didn’t have one.

Instead of speaking, you reached down in between your legs and spread your wet lips.

Lowering your lashes. Slow smirk. Jungkook sucked in a breath and ripped open the condom. His underwear was sliding down his legs, but you were too busy being fixated on the way his arms moved, carefully rolling down the condom as he watched your fingertips trace your slit, drawing circles around your clit. The heat turned into wetness. He moved closer. You curled a leg around his hip. He put a hand on your thigh, positioning himself over you. Made eye contact. You looked back curiously, spreading the upper lips of your slick pussy.

He slid the bottom of the slick head against your clit and made you both moan from the contact.

Rubbed, slowly. Your insides throbbed with need. The lubrication made it even better. You pulled your hand back and tipped your hips upwards, and then he slid in. He gasped, his inhale catching in his throat. The hand on your leg tensed. You pressed your calf into his ass, pushing him deeper.

“F-Fuck, what–”

Your expression must have indicated that you were going to shove him in yourself, because Jungkook took one panicked glance at your face and thrust in, loudly swearing. He shut his eyes but you caught a peek of them rolling upwards as you dreamily sighed from the feeling of fullness, squeezing all around to feel more, the pressure becoming pleasure.

“You can move.” Just in case he wasn’t sure.

“Shut up,” Jungkook snapped back, shifting his hand to grab your thigh, yanking you into his crotch. He cut off his own moan by clenching his jaw. You smiled. Sweetly. He glared as viciously as he could, which wasn’t much, and thrust hard enough to make you both gasp. He was resisting from commenting about your tightness. “Stop smirking at me like that.”

You tested fate.

“Make me.”

The light was playing tricks. Or maybe his hair was casting shadows over his darkened gaze. Or perhaps this was possession of passion that made him lean down. Locked gazes. He covered your mouth with his free hand. You let him, waiting to see where this would go. He began to move. Slow, deep, building the heat between your joined bodies. Staring into your eyes, and you stared back, clenching your core to increase the unfurling bliss, so damn good, watching his lashes lower, his lips parting, heated breath drifting out like invisible smoke. You raised your hips to meet him, moaning into his palm. He bit the edge of his lower lip, the tiny mole centered underneath suddenly visible.

Your tongue traced his fingers, dripping saliva.

He spread them, entranced by the way you thrust your wet muscle in time with his hips, coiling towards the small finger tattoos you knew he had. Jungkook swore under his breath, gripping your thigh harder, but he wasn’t reaching the force you both craved. With reluctance, he removed his hand from your open mouth, watching the charming curl of your tongue disappearing in between your lips before gripping your other hip with his wet hand, cocking an eyebrow at you.

You reached back and grabbed fistfuls of your duvet, bracing yourself with an open-mouthed smirk.

He thrust hard and you rose to meet him. Both of you cried out at the radiating smack of force between bodies. Nothing for show. Just pure raw lust, chasing the high, giving into the lust. Heat into tension. Your back arched. He pulled you to him. You squeezed him all around. With each loud slap you felt pleasure ripple through your body, making your breasts bounce to his rhythm, and you let out a soft moan, sensing the ripple turning into a cascade, your insides tightening, closing your eyes once the vicious throb overtook your hips, drowning in orgasm.

“Oh, fuck–”

Jungkook didn’t even get to choke out his surprise before his own orgasm hit him. You felt his fingers dig in, snapping your bodies together. His drawn-out groan became the sonata to the punctuated sensation of inescapable euphoria. Wet. Hot. You gasped at a jolt of ecstasy rattling in your ribs. You felt his cock jerk inside you as his hold on you lessened, switching to kneading your thighs. Your brain was so hazy that his touch seemed to amplify the addictive heat, your legs closing in, keeping him in place.

“Could’ve… fuckin’ warned me…”

He panted hard, squeezing your ass roughly. You didn’t care. It was hard to when his slip to his Busan dialect was so attractive. You reveled in the bliss for a moment longer before lowering your legs, realizing the source of the heat was Jungkook whose body seemed to be ten thousand degrees. He pushed back his hair, revealing his glistening brow and cheekbones. Gasping for breath. He pulled out before stripping off the condom with a hiss.

“What am I supposed to do with–”

You sat up, using your elbows to lift your body. It was harder than you thought because the aftermath of tension had left a residual tremble throughout your nerves, but you ignored it, living on determination alone. Jungkook started, not expecting you to move so quickly. You didn’t give him time to react, reaching down between your bodies.

“A-Ah, don’t…!”

He stuttered, gasped, then moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. Slippery. Hot. Covered in lube and cum and now your fingers wrapping around his length, finding him half-hard. You gave him almost no pressure but all contact, glossing over the shaft until his cock swelled in your hand, ghosting over the head with your palm. He bit back a yelp, not yet opening his eyes, almost whining. His reaction drove you, sliding forward a bit to the very edge of the mattress. He held his breath. Snuck a peek. You angled your body to expose more of your inner thigh and lifted him.

His eyes widened.

You sandwiched his cock in between your palm and your inner thigh, sliding your body back and forth to stimulate him. He inhaled sharply, shooting you a look of indignation, and yet his hips began moving anyway. You gradually increased the pressure. His head tipped back, groaning to the ceiling, becoming harder and harder with each stroke.

You reached over to the condoms and held them out.

Jungkook lowered his head. “Seriously?”

You lifted your hand from his pulsing, wet cock. “Saying you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” he retorted.

You pulled one off. He handed you the used condom. There was maybe a second and then he gave back the empty foil wrapper in which you tucked the used one into, folding it carefully so there was no spillage. It wouldn’t take long, anyway.

Part of you wanted to say that, but you held your tongue.

Hands on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs. Jungkook pinned your knees to your chest and slid back in, lowly growling, “How the fuck are you so tight,” but you were too enveloped in the sensations, wet and hard and your inner muscles closing in, molding to the shaft. The swollen head hit that depth you could really feel, and you sighed, lifting your hips. His hands slid off your legs and hit the bed, sandwiching you in between the bed and his hard chest.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s.

It was intense, rough, carnal. You forgot your surroundings, clutching the duvet and his tattooed forearm, matching each slap of your bodies with a breathless gasp, your calves on his shoulders, his erratic breath melting into shuddering moans. You were moving up the bed little by little from the force. Your name slipped from his lips. Your pussy clenched involuntarily and then the rapid thunderous pulse overtook your senses. He lasted a little longer this time after your orgasm, but not much longer, succumbing to the vicious call, burying his entire length inside you and gritting his teeth to muffle his moan in his chest.

It should have ended there.

You could barely breathe. Suffocating from your own thighs. After an erotic, elated eternity, Jungkook lifted his upper body, gasping apologies. You could barely hear them, orgasm still ringing in your ears, having to relax your muscles one by one. The bed was a mess. Duvet bunched up. Condom wrappers garnishing the ground. Clothes all over the floor. Your legs crossed, sliding down. Jungkook was standing somehow and you could tell that even he thought that was a miracle. He offered a hand. You took it, letting him shakily pull you up to your feet.

His breath washed over your cheek.

You looked up at him. His dark orbs shifted towards you. Waning. You tilted your head. Half-moons. Lips to lips. You drank in his exhale, kissing him deeply. Still electrified. Hands all over, igniting fire over skin. His lower body bumped up against your thigh. Slippery hardness pressing into softness. The scent of sex clung between you and him. You reached down. Touching him. Stroking his cock with your fingertips while kissing him. You felt his hand snake between your legs, sliding two fingers into you. One by one, your fingers closed in. He stroked your clit before thrusting his fingers back in, swallowing your moan into his throat. You began to slide your hand up and down. The combination of lube and cum delivered that delicious friction that he was looking for. At this point, the fervor was so intense that the pace was fierce, fast, a contest of who could get each other off faster while in lip-lock.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth.

Jungkook sucked on it, pushing a third finger into your soaked pussy, all the way up to his knuckles. You welcomed it, working his entire length, jacking him off tight and harsh, and all of a sudden he let go if your tongue, gasping with a pinched moan, his hips jerking forward. Hot spurts of milky white shot down your inner thigh. Not much, but definitely enough to witness and feel. Something inside you snapped and you had to grab his shoulder to avoid falling over, your nails digging in a halo as your pussy spasmed, sucking in his fingers with a wet squelch, your legs snapping closed to extend the feeling. Breathless moan against his ear. You leaned against him with your juices leaking down your legs and sticking to his fingers.

Delicious.

Satisfyingly ragged. Blood pumping. Both of your bodies burning, or at least yours was and his chest was alarmingly sweaty. You slowly untangled your hands from each other but they lingered low, suddenly realizing how much needed to be cleaned up.

“Uh…” Jungkook panted. “I’ll help…”

He better. “Yeah. We should, hah, clean up.” Your tongue traced your lips. “Then sleep.”

“I didn’t bring clothes,” he mumbled distractedly.

You lifted yourself from his shoulder. “I still have your sweatpants,” you reminded him.

His dark eyes slid towards you. He tried to frown. His eyes were too eager and sparkly for that. “Oh. Yeah…”

“You can go home if you want,” you offered while naked and with his cum sticking to your thigh.

He sucked on the inside of his cheek sharply. “You can’t say sleep over and then take it back.”

“Then take it in the first place.”

“I was gonna,” Jungkook snapped, and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for another kiss.

-

“Did you mean it?”

The room was relatively clean now. The trash was appropriately in the trash. The clothes had been lumped into an ambiguous pile on your dresser. Teeth had been brushed. You had set aside a spare toothbrush for his use only. Seemed appropriate. He was not wearing his sweatpants. Turned out that was not his preferred way to sleep. It wasn’t yours either. He was only in his boxer briefs and you were only in your panties. Your bodies were now minus each other’s bodily fluids.

“Mean what?”

You tried to yank the duvet into a more acceptable orientation before climbing in. After a pause, Jungkook lifted the other side and tried his best to settle in.

“That you were waiting for me to make a move.”

Tried his best because he seemed to be distracted by the conversation. You adjusted your pillow and nestled in a section of the duvet that was not that close but not too far away either. It was a king-sized one for a queen bed. Plenty of sharable coverage. You didn’t interfere with his routine and he didn’t with yours. You took the time to think.

“Hm.” It wasn’t wholly true after all. “I didn’t know if you were going to make a move or not.” He snorted under his breath but you ignored it to finish speaking. “After the first time you stayed over… It was more that I figured being prepared was better than not being prepared.”

“That’s…” He sounded uneasy.

“I can’t live hoping for something that might or might not happen,” you said without facing him.

He seemed annoyed. “Why not?”

You pointed out the obvious. “I don’t think you should change your life only to appeal to me. You should do it for yourself.”

“Well, I did,” Jungkook grumbled. He cocooned himself in a good chunk of your duvet. That was the tell of a blanket stealer. You would have to keep an eye on him. “I quit for you. It was always you. It’s happened already, so accept it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He grunted. “Just like how I shouldn’t have started smoking in the first place. Guess that’s the kind of shitty guy I am.”

Silence.

He wasn’t facing you. You were looking up at the ceiling. Closed your eyes because there weren’t any promises up there. The promises were always next to you. He seemed cold, but you knew better. He didn’t know how to be a cold person. He tried his best and it was a constant failure.

“Aren’t you happy you broke that people-pleasing of yours?” you asked softly.

There was a short, reluctant pause before he muttered, “You’re a butt.”

You burst out laughing. Big, muscly, tattooed man curled up in bed with you retorting with a child’s insult was too funny. Jungkook growled, rolling over to shake your shoulder with contained fury. You kept laughing even when he gave up and took the pillow out from under him, repeatedly bopping your torso and legs with it. There was no strength behind it. Plenty of salt, though. You opened your eyes mid-snicker and looked over to him. His arm was extended over to you. His black hair was all over the place. He shook his head like a Doberman and scrunched up his face. Frowning. On the verge of a pout, really. He could have looked madder. He would never make it as an actor. Your laughter died out.

“You were gonna totally back off if I didn’t have condoms?” you teased.

He looked exasperated. “Seriously? I’m not some untrained dog who hasn’t eaten in days! You… There’s plenty of other choices we have! I’m a good guy!”

You smiled. “I know.”

He immediately stopped protesting. It was as if all the fight drained out of him. There was a whole universe in those big dark brown eyes. And then it occurred to you that, back then, Jungkook could never quite meet your eyes even though he was always looking your way. Every day came with a dark night. He would ask you, got a light, and you would hold up the flame, shining light into those dark eyes when he used to lean in.

It was strange, then, to see the light that was there when now his eyes locked with yours.

No lighter required.

“You really tried to pass off as a bad guy. Almost fooled me, even.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Ugh, fuck you.”

“You did,” you quipped.

Jungkook flung the pillow behind him and scooted alarmingly close. You instinctively tried to move out of the way but there was no more bed to escape to. His strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and dragged you back to him, threatening you with, “Shut up. I’m hugging you.”

You failed to listen. Classic. “I didn’t ask to be hugged.”

There was a foreign tingling feeling that raced all over your skin. Not from the physical closeness, but from the other kind of closeness. You felt your shoulder bump against his firm chest. He even threw his leg over your hip and yanked your legs closer, cocooning you with his frame. You almost thought he was trying to extend the night.

Instead, he simply latched onto you like a barnacle.

“I don’t care. I’m a bad guy. Hmph.”

Quiet.

You placed your hand on his forearm just under your breasts. This was going to become very hot and sweaty in the long run. But you let it be. You didn’t want to let go either, even though you weren’t exactly doing the holding on. You used your other hand to drag the duvet back up under your chin. He didn’t stop you. You felt him squeeze you a little tighter once you were comfortable, as if to confirm. You patted his arm.

“Your hand is too hot,” he complained in a mumble by your ear.

“That sucks,” you said and didn’t move it. He didn’t try to shrug you off either. “I’ll make your steak tomorrow.”

He pretended to gnaw on your shoulder. “We can’t have steak for breakfast.”

“Why not? We’re adults.”

“That isn’t what adults do.”

“Then I give up on being an adult.”

“Me too,” he huffed. He perched his chin by your head. “Alright, I’m down.”

You debated on telling him. Telling him why you purchased the lighter in the first place. Even before him, it constantly stayed in your pocket. It only came out on the darkest nights when the insomnia was the worst. A flame and a human life followed the same trajectory. At night was when the flame danced the brightest. You would watch the flame dance. Contemplated. Extinguished it. You even did your due diligence of refilling it when it was low. When Jeon Jungkook appeared in your life, you ignited the flame for him without much thought. That was, after all, the intended use the lighter. It made sense to use it as such. You found yourself reaching for it less because, well, what if you ran into him? He would always ask and you would always provide. When he had handed you his barely-used pack and said he was done, you too gradually began to leave the lighter behind. The two objects had begun to collect dust night after night. Untouched. Originally your lighter wasn’t for him, and yet.

That small flame had led him to you.

The universe planned well.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

“Uuh?” He sounded very sleepy and not quite conscious.

“My lighter was for you, after all.”

“Mmmm…” He nestled closer and squeezed your arm. “That’s good.”

You smiled as he drifted off to sleep. He still snored, although less intensely. His grip on you relaxed but was no less meaningful. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to you, and you went willingly, following Jeon Jungkook’s path to dreams. You would have to get used to this new routine of the night.

--

masterpost

[lordprettyflackotara]

Till Dawn || Eyeless Jack || part two

SMUT 18+, tw: unrealistic demon sex (sorry not sorry, MASSIVE breeding kink, mentions of eating organs (duh, it’s ej), some blood but nothing too crazy, size kink, all the things you’d expect from a fic with ej tbh

part three is here

EJ avoided you like you had the black plague.

It’s not because he wanted to, not by any means.

In a perfect world he would be tangled in your bed sheets right now, not standing in his bedroom at the mansion.

One hand was keeping him steady from falling over, his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. His breathing was jagged, from trying to ignore what he knew to be happening.

He tried to avoid the overwhelming feeling, the craving.

Because EJ knew without a shade of a doubt, he was in heat.

EJ’s heats came once a year, right around the beginning of summer. The first time it happened he thought he might explode, his urges almost landing him with a knife in his hand.

(Note to self: don’t try to fuck Jane).

The second summer he as more adjusted, the third even more so. He had grown accustomed of what was going to happen, to the extent where the members of mansion set up precautions for him.

Typically he would stock up on food, then lock himself into his medical lab as if he were a rabid dog.

The slightest movement or sound could make him go feral, the demon unable to control himself.

Every year this had worked, his heat dying down after about maybe a month.

But this year, was different. All because of you.

In previous years he had never had a mate, nor had he truly considered getting one. He thought humans to be too fragile. Not to mention the fact he didn’t know if it was scientifically possible to procreate with one. Which was exactly what his body was screaming at him to do.

You invaded every inch of his mind, his heat refusing to subside for even five minutes to allow him some peace.

EJ knew that if he were to allow himself to enter your town, it would be game over.

That he would be buried inside of you in mere minutes, not caring where you were. If everyone had to see him mate with you, so fucking be it. Logically, however, EJ knew these thoughts were absurd and insane. If he was going to ever see you again, he could not allow himself to see you during his heat.

Yet, he knew where you lived. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand. When you’d be at work, when you’d be at the gym, when you’d be home. In bed. Curled up into an adorable, fuckable ball. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

A knock on the laboratory door snapped him out of his thoughts, the demon trudging towards the door. He unlocked it, staring down at his fellow resident, Jeff the killer. “Hey fuckface, Ben told me you were running low on food. Consider this a favor,” He said dryly. He held up a brown paper bag, oozing with blood and other unidentified bodily liquids. With one sniff EJ knew that inside of the bag was a heart. Not his favorite, but it’d do.

EJ lifted his arm slowly to grab it from him, muttering a thank you. He acted as if he were afraid to hurt Jeff, unsure of what he would do if the two interacted any way out of the ordinary. “Fuck dude, you don’t look good,” Jeff commented. Jacks hand flew to his face, realizing his mask had been discarded during one of his meltdowns. Out of instinct Jack bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His pale roommate raised his hands, signaling he didn’t mean harm.

“Not trying to get your panties in a wad, you just look worse for some reason this year,” Jeff explained. Truthfully his dark gray skin did look paler, his hair ruffled and sticking to his forehead from sweat. The last person on the face of this planet Jack wanted to admitted this to stood right in front of him. “There’s a girl,” Jack managed to huff out, his voice several octaves deeper then normal.

Jeff’s permanent smile curled even further upwards, producing a genuine one. “Well i’ll be damned, my Jacky boy has finally found a woman. Did you lose your v card yet?” Jeff asked. EJ would’ve rolled his eyes if he had them.

“Jeff.”

“Okay okay alright, well you’re in heat right? Why don’t you go see her?” The pale killer questioned. Millions of scenarios ran through EJ’s head, almost all of them ending with your organs in his hands. It wasn’t just breaking you that he was afraid of, but it was the unavoidable hunger that washed over him after fulfilling his filthy desires. “Human,” EJ managed to choke out, his mouth running dry. The word was something that his fellow residents cringed at, Jeff’s eyes going wide.

“Demon boy is entangled with a human? I must be in the twilight zone,” Jeff muttered. Out of all of the residents in the mansion, Jack was the most likely to break a humans bone by mistake. His strength was incomprehensible, EJ unaware of how harsh his touch could be. Jeff eyed his roommate carefully, evaluating his condition. He usually didn’t care to get involved in Jacks life, the demon preferring to live solo.

Yet, it was disheartening even for him to see EJ like this.

“Look there’s no point in wallowing in misery. There’s no guarantee you’d kill her,” Jeff said. His attempt to comfort EJ was poor, one that made Jack furrow his eyebrows. “Your heat is going to be fucking miserable if you don’t at least try dude, don’t be a pussy,” He stated bluntly. EJ furrowed his eyebrows, before nodding. He had to know. Could he control himself? Would you have him?

He could do it. He could find the will to focus on the lust and not the hunger. He could do it. For you.

EJ huffed in response, grabbing his shirt from a nearby dresser. Jeff put a hand up, stopping the demon in his tracks.

“Dude, take a shower.”

\/

Jack couldn’t get to you fast enough. He took several shortcuts to your house, even venturing as far as to run across several popular roads. He had to see you, to feel you. His body was engulfed in open flames, yours being the only way tame the fire. By the time he got to your house he was out of breath, unsure of how to approach you.

Faintly he could hear your heartbeat, the noise alone making him swallow. He had eaten the gift Jeff had given him before he left, ensuring to scrub every last bit of his mouth with a toothbrush once he was done. But the hunger that haunted EJ needed more than just an organ to be satisfied. Questions circled his mind, unsure of how to approach you. Should he knock on the door? Break in?

His gaze landed on the tree he had previously climbed, the large branch still conveniently in front of your window. Jack decided on the old fashioned way, climbing up the old oak tree. He got an odd sense of deja vu, warmth spreading through out his body at the sight of you. You were in bed, reading a book beside your nightstand lamp. You looked so peaceful, your attention completely engulfed.

EJ considered leaving, letting you continue your peaceful human life. That was, until he realized you were wearing his hoodie. Your legs were curled to the side, your chest concealed by the familiar cotton EJ wore everyday. Maybe it was for comfort? No, you missed him. You needed him. Maybe as badly as he needed you. It was in that moment he decided to be selfish, knocking on the glass.

Your eyes darted up, brightening at the sight of the demon crouching in front of your window. You tossed your book aside, running over to let him in. Your legs were bare, your soft skin exposed to him. There you stood, completely exposed to a six foot demon. And you dared to smile.

“Jack?”

EJ struggled to form any words, slipping into your room. He knew his presence alone was incredibly selfish. You were so small, his body towering over you without even trying. Your eyebrows furrowed, your head tilting to the side. “Jack? Are you okay?” You asked, your voice sounding so small. So soft. EJ couldn’t barely find it in himself to look at you, afraid of the urges that soared through his body.

“I’m in heat,” He managed to say, his voice sounding strained. You hesitantly grabbed his hand, guiding him to the bed. EJ sat down on the edge, purposefully holding his gaze to the floor. You sat down beside him, studying his intense posture. He was breathing deeply, veins poking out of his arms. “You’re… In heat? Like an animal?” You asked, seeking clarification. EJ nodded nervously, ashamed of the lewd confession.

It was as if he had never fucked you, with how embarrassed he felt.

“Okay so, what does that mean, um, exactly?”

Your words were so innocent.

He had to see your face.

He had to admire you.

From the moment he lifted his head, he was on you. In a swift motion he had pinned you to the bed, hovering over you. You smelled so fucking good, it was practically intoxicating. “I can’t control myself, I, I mean, I need-” EJ panted, struggling to find the words to explain his situation. He hadn’t needed to explain his heats to anyone in years, nevertheless a human girl. “You need to fuck something, right? And to cum?” You questioned.

Jack swallowed hard, your legs on either side of his waist. He could practically feel your core throbbing for him, his shaft growing harder in his pants. The sensation made him let out a low growl, before trying to swallow the sounds back down his throat. You had the gist of it, but he didn’t think you truly understood the danger you were in.

“I need to breed,” Jack stated, emphasizing the last word. Your small fingers curled under his mask, lifting it and tossing it aside. Your fingertips traced his jawline, the simple affection making his heart begin to race.

“So breed me then.”

Your words had sealed your fate.

His mouth was on your lips before you could process it, the tension growing hot and heavy within seconds. Jacks large hands trailed up your body, shoving your hoodie over your head. Your bare chest was exposed to him, your nipples hardening exposed to the cool night air. “No bra? You filthy bitch,” EJ grumbled. His lips strayed from yours, his body desperate for release. He tried to remember to be careful with you, to take the time to stretch you out.

He barely fit the first time, nevertheless if he didn’t take the time to do some foreplay. EJ didn’t want to hurt you, even if it meant putting himself through agony. His lips strayed to your neck, sucking harshly at the skin. He had to make a conscious effort to not bite, his teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly. He ensured to avoid any crucial arteries, just in case he cut skin. You whined under him, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils. But as Jack inhaled, he smelled something else familiar.

“J-Jack?” You whispered, the warm feeling of blood trickling down your neck alerting you. Jack leaned back, taking in the damage. It was a thin line of blood, the crimson red paint staining your soft skin. He swallowed as he leaned back, panting. “No we can’t do this, i’m going to lose control,” He said, speaking a full sentence for the first time in weeks. Jack backed away from you, panting as his boner continued to rage on.

The smell of your arousal, fear, and blood, was enough to make EJ hump a pillow to get off. He put his hand over his face, covering his nose. “What? Jack i’m fine,” You argued. The demon shook his head no, trying to restrain himself. The blood dripped down your neck onto your collarbone, the sight alone mouthwatering. He pressed his back flat against the wall, shaking his head no. You didn’t have any idea how badly he wanted you. The fact that you didn’t only made the situation more dangerous. You placed your hand over your small cut, the wound evident that EJ wasn’t careful enough with you.

“I can handle it, just-” You began. You struggled to find the right words, to convince him to take you. To breed you right there and then. “Just clean it,” You say, unsure if you even said the right thing. EJ’s eyebrows raised curiously, his prey asking him to clean her wound. “Are you sure?” Jack said, his words almost entirely muffled by his hand. You yanked away his wrist, forcing him to fully inhale the overwhelming scent of your blood.

“What did you say?”

Jack licked his lips, tilting his head to the side.

“I said, are you sure?”

You removed your blood stained hand from your wound, nodding.

“I can take it, whatever you give me.”

Fuck.

In the blink of an eye EJ flipped positions, your back being shoved against the wall behind you. His three tongues emerging from his lips. They assaulted your neck, lapping at the wound. He refused to let any drop of your precious blood go to waste. Once he was done cleaning your neck his focus shifted to your hand, licking your palm clean.

“I forgot you had three tongues,” You admitted. Your words reminded EJ of what was happening. That you weren’t a meal, but his mate. Jack allowed himself to smile, chuckling. “Yeah? Do you remember what they feel like?” He asked curiously. Playing along, you shrugged. “I don’t think so, maybe you’ll just have to remind me,” You replied.

Jack had never sank to his knees quicker.

He ripped your panties in half, discarding the fabric across the room. He nudged your knees apart, forcing you to lean against the wall for support. You were practically dripping, the sight only fueling Jacks heat even more. “It’s taking everything in me to take my time with you, little human,” Jack panted. He brought himself to your cunt, his three tongues finally making a grand appearance. Two of them decided to enter you, your walls spasming under the odd sensation. The third stayed focused on your clit, flicking your sensitive bud as if his life depended on it.

EJ’s hand held your legs harshly. As your legs began to tremble, you slowly began to lose your balance. He took this opportunity to pick you up, holding your legs in his arms as his tongues abused your cunt. Your hands tugged at his hair as he held you in mid air, your thighs trembling in his hands. Each tug you pulled only made him fuck into you rougher, his tongues almost seemingly having a mind of their own. “Fuck- right there, please, right fucking there,” You pleaded, your sinful pleas bouncing throughout the hollow house.

With one final flick of your cunt you came on his tongues, each of them lapping up your juices with pride. Jack needed more, he needed something, anything, to prevent him from fucking you on the floor. “On your knees, now,” He growled as he set you down. With how wobbly your legs were you nearly fell anyways, landing on your knees on the hard wooden floor. EJ felt as hot as a heater, his skin radiating unnatural warmth. You stuck out your tongue, maintaining his gaze as he unbuckled his pants.

“You filthy filthy girl,” EJ muttered. He mockingly traced your jawline, shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles. You had almost forgotten how large his cock was, his length alone enough to break you. “Awe, what’s wrong? Am I bigger than the human boys you play with?” Jack asked teasingly. He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue, shuddering at the warmth of your mouth.

You took his tip in stride, swirling your tongue around it as the demon before you groaned. EJ began shoving his cock into your mouth further, his tip scraping the back of your throat.

He wasn’t even in half way yet.

“You may want to loosen your jaw,” EJ recommended. How far could the human jaw physically extend? You forced your jaw to go slack, struggling to accommodate to Jacks girth as he pushed himself in further. Jack gritted his teeth out of frustration, fuck, this wasn’t fucking working.

Fuck it.

Fuck this.

His large hand snaked down to your hair, yanking you off of him. He dragged you onto your feet with ease, as if you were as light as a feather. “I changed my mind, I want you now,” Jack mumbled. He roughly brought his lips to yours, dragging you back over to the bed. The only thing he needed in the world right now were your ankles dangling over his shoulders. You were struggling to keep up, your heartbeat racing faster and faster.

The sound made Jack’s ears twitch, his desire to fuck you the only thing that kept him from tearing you apart.

“Jack?”

You stared up at him curiously, EJ realizing he was staring at you blankly.

The demon swallowed, trying to hold himself back. His body was practically vibrating, every fiber in him screaming to breed your pretty little cunt, then to swallow your organs whole. Starting with your precious heart. You didn’t know what he ate, right? Or did you? EJ began to rack his brain, his mind spinning. Were you afraid? You didn’t smell afraid. But to be fair though, all Jack could smell was your arousal.

“Jack?”

Your concern made him snap out of his haze, the realization that he was oddly panting above you hitting him like a brick. He licked his dry lips, trying to form coherent sentences. “You don’t want this, you don’t want to be my mate. You-” Jack began. He knew what it would be mean if he did what he wanted, what every fiber in his being was screaming at him to do. “Deserve a nice human life, with a human man,” He rambled.

Your next action caught him off guard, it being something he hadn’t even fantasized about. It was so shocking to Jack, that he hadn’t even theorized it to be possible. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you dragged him down to you, planting your lips onto his. As you kissed him, your small hand reached down to his throbbing cock, running the tip up and down your folds. EJ growled as he pushed you down against the mattress.

“You’ve done it now,” He snarled. EJ swatted your hand away, pumping his length. Teasingly he brushed the head of his cock against your clit, the overstimulation making you squirm. Jack tried his hardest to be slow once he entered you. Honest. But your walls sucked him in your body screaming that you were almost as desperate as he was. This. This was what he had imaged all of those sleepless nights as he pumped his cock, daydreaming of the disgusting things he’d do to you.

And here you were, withering under him as he shoved his cock inside of your cunt. “Such a good whore for me, such a good hole for me to use,” EJ grunted. He could feel his mind going numb, his ability to maintain composure fading away as he bottomed out. He could feel your walls squeezing him, begging him to let you adjust. His cock was visible through your stomach, the outline only fueling the fire further.

“So sorry, I can’t hold back any longer- Have to- Need to breed you,” Jack panted, moving his hips. You bit your bottom lip as he began to fuck you, the pain almost too much. You had taken him before, sure, but he wasn’t this rough with you. He let out low growls as he fucked you, the pain slowly subsiding into pleasure. Jack couldn’t help but nuzzle himself into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

Your hands had grabbed his hair, tugging at it as he mercilessly pounded into you. Your moans were mixtures of pleas and incoherent babbles, his name mixed in there somewhere. You couldn’t think straight, Jacks hips having a mind of their own. “Fuck, i’m gonna breed you, you’re going to be mine,” Jack huffed. He licked the side of your neck, the sweat coating your skin flooding his tastebuds.

He could hear your heartbeat speed up even faster, your body struggling to keep up with Jack as he fucked you. “You’re gonna be my mate, you understand? My personal cumdump,” He snarled. The degrading words were the most he had spoken in weeks, his mind screaming at him to cum inside of you. He needed it like he needed air. He needed to see your cunt red and puffy, leaking his cum.

EJ managed to leave the comfort of your neck, watching the outline of his cock slide in and out of you as he abused your cervix. “You’re gonna be such a good mother, gonna take you back to the mansion,” Jack groaned, his words slipping out mindlessly. He grabbed your legs, forcing them to spread wider. You whined as he grabbed your tender flesh, pounding into you. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re mine, my mate to breed, you’re gonna carry my kids, over and over and over,” EJ growled. You could feel yourself getting close, your eyes practically seeing stars. “J-Jack, i’m getting close-” You warned. Jack grinned, his thrust not letting up for a second. “Go on mate, cum for me so I can mark you as mine,” EJ ordered, his words almost muffled by his animalistic growls. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came, your orgasm only making Jack fuck you harder.

He grabbed your limp body, pounding into you through your orgasm until he found his own high. Loud moans exited his throat as he came inside of you, your cunt now full of the demons sperm. He panted as his heart rate began to settle, his stomach beginning to growl. His eye sockets widened as he realized he could still hear your heartbeat, the sound coming back into focus. He swallowed, your smell making his desire shift to raw hunger.

Jack pulled out of you quickly, relieved to see that you were relatively dazed. Your eyes were closed, your focus on slowing your body back down to normal. As calmly as he could he slid off of the bed, redressing himself. He knew if he alerted you he would owe you an explanation. It would put him at a dangerous crossroad. He would either have to tell the brutal truth, or a painful lie that would no doubt put your relationship in jeopardy.

EJ grabbed his mask, sliding back onto his face as he pulled down the sleeves of his hoodie. He watched his cum ooze out of your cunt and onto the sheets, the sight almost enough to overrule his painful hunger.

Almost.

Jack slipped out of your window quickly, running to the next heartbeat he could hear.

An odd satisfaction washed over him as he ran into the night, knowing you were now his.

[eunandonly]

୨୧ — ANALYSING: ATTRACTION !

୨୧ ; everyone knows lee heeseung- he's the super cute psychology major! how did you find yourself holding hands with him? pairing! psychologymajor!heeseung x psychologymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: failed attempt at humour, probably cringe EN-

🖇 : this will be a full series for all enhypen members!

everyone has noticed lee heeseung in the psychology lecture hall, even you.

he's always sitting at the middle of the hall, furiously taking notes

this man explains freud's theories in a way that makes the professor pause and ask for his name

he's such a dork omg you sometimes see him doodling little brain diagrams on the margin of his notebooks with little text bubbles and smiley faces — more under cut!

you can't help but sneak glances at him like HE'S SO HOT

who wouldn't want to stare at lee heeseung rather than the mid fifties dude who can't seem to stfu

ok well heeseung's been eyeing you too because well DAMN you're face card is crazyyyy

and you're also really smart ACADEMIC WEAPON

so one day you two got grouped together for some kind of psychology project and you're just trying your best not to freak out

you've liked this guy since your freshman year of uni ever since you saw him at that shitty university party wdym you got paired up with him

luck is on your side this term (or is it fate?)

heeseung is so shy you're just too pretty for him to handle but he's still the first one to initiate conversation between you two

just walks up to you with his little notebook and pen in the lecture hall "so what are your ideas for the project?"

you don't even reply you just spend a moment or two taking in the godly sight in front of you and he just stands there like 🧍

it's so awkward for a moment but you finally start talking after blessing your eyes with lee heeseung's face

you two hit it off on the spot (you two are both nerds- cute nerds, mind you.)

you two spend a whole hour just discussing interesting psychology experiments before deciding you guys have to focus

“we really need to lock in."

"yeah we really should."

you guys move on from the stanford prison experiment to cognitive neuroscience

tbh you're really impressed with the amount of knowledge heeseung has on psychology

i mean sure it's his major but statistics show that over 54% of university students aren't happy with the classes they take

not heeseung he loves his little psychology life especially now that you're his project partner

this man is in the clouds he feels like he can fly

he keeps complimenting your psychology knowledge and you just brush him off

because heeseung's the one who just explained the flipping hippocampus like it's a ted talk.

poor boy is trying so hard to focus but he's kind of distracted bc he's busy stealing glances at you

he keeps stuttering whenever you ask him something

“oh, umm"

it's kind of giving loser but he's a cute loser ykyk

you pretend not to notice how he trips over his words and goes red in the face to protect his dignity and pride but you're dying inside as well

lee heeseung. stuttering over you.

SKJFGJDKK

you and heeseung meet up everyday to do your project together

most of the time you guys meet at the library or a cafe but sometimes he invites you to his dorm

i imagine his dorm to be like his room in enhypen's dorm

like it's spacious and clean and all that

but boy why's there a huge gaping empty space in the middle of the room

well that gaping empty space is useful to spread out the 2838484 notes heeseung has written on neuroscience

you two always seem to reach for the same paper at the same moment HMMMMM

everytime you touch in anyway you feel like you're about to pass out like OH LEE HEESEUNG'S FINGER JUST BRUSHED AGAINST YOURS

heeseung gets sooo flustered he feels the same way about you

he's so busy staring at you when you're not looking bc you're js so goddamn perfect

after the group project you and heeseung submit the most scrumptious project ever

you both get straight As the thesis you guys wrote together was so sexylicious oml

you're kind of sad when the project is all over bc what if you and heeseung go back to not speaking and just acknowledging e/o's presence with a smile and a nod.

well you have nothing to worry about because he confesses after a week of 'accidental touches' and stolen glances

this guy, he gives you a little peck on the cheek and both of yall blushing like crazyy

heeseung definetly blurts out random psychology facts about love bc he's a little geek

he says psychology pick up lines as well

"are you a serotonin boost? because just being around you brightens my mood" bitch what.

✉️: @icyy-hoon taglist is open!

[lolxdswag123]

Just friends?

Percy Jackson x reader

Warnings: making out, I think that’s it tbh

——————————————————————————

My brain was fried. I had been working on homework and studying for hours all week. I had just about isolated myself in the library, and even managed to get on a first-name basis with the librarian.

I regretted my decision to take so many credits this semester, but I just got so excited when I got into New Rome University that I went a little overboard. The only person who was taking more classes than me was Annabeth- of course. She had spent some time with me in the library this week, but other than that I hadn't gotten any social interaction outside of my classes. I knew my best friend Percy was probably wondering where I was.

I submitted a paper that I didn't even have the energy to proofread. I just was hoping for the best at that point. Just as I clicked submit, I got a text notification on my computer. It was such a relief to be able to use normal technology at school. It was so hard in the mortal world to constantly explain why I couldn't have phone.

The text was from Percy.

Where have you been? Haven't seen you all week

I smiled, immediately pulling out my phone to text him back.

Library. So much work :(

I glanced over at the window, seeing that the sun had begun setting. I sighed, pulling out some of my notes to begin studying. I only got a few minutes in before my brain couldn’t take in any more, and I checked my phone once again. Percy had responded.

Got any free time tonight?

I rolled my eyes. ‘Only for you’ I thought, although I decided not to text it.

What do you have in mind?

After I sent that text, I tried my best to give my attention to my notes. Again, I failed. I wasn’t sure my brain could take in another ounce of information without giving up on me.

I slowly packed up my belongings, deciding it would be best for me to just go back to my dorm. When I exited the library, it was dark. I quickly walked back to my room. As soon as I got there, I dropped my backpack, changing into comfortable clothes. My phone buzzed again.

Want to come over?

I yawned, considering it, then deciding I didn’t have the energy to leave my dorm tonight.

Can you come here?

I hadn’t even finished putting my hair up when he responded.

On my way

I smiled, unlocking the door and turning on my tv before getting comfortable on my bed.

I was relieved to be seeing him again after my extremely long week. When we were growing up, we had gotten used to only seeing each other in the summer. At college however, we saw each other at least four times a week. Even when it’s doing small things— walking to class, going to the dining hall— we had really gotten used to eachother’s presence this year. It felt weird to go a week without seeing him.

I also was slightly relieved that it would just be the two of us tonight. I loved Annabeth so much, but I honestly didn’t have the social battery to interact with more than one person after my mental exhaustion. Plus, Annabeth would be doing homework all weekend anyways.

A few minutes after I’d gotten comfortable, I heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” I called.

A moment later, my best friend came walking through the door with a plastic bag and a cup carrier in his hand. I smiled, standing to close and lock the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said, setting the drinks on my desk.

“What’s this?” I asked, gesturing to the bag.

He shrugged, holding it up slightly, “I just assumed you’d be too busy to think about eating, so I picked up some take out for us.”

I beamed up at him, gratefully taking the bag and thanking him.

After being best friends with someone for almost ten years, you really get to learn how they work. Percy always was one that hit the nail on the head when it came to my habits. He was right, I probably would have forgotten about dinner if he hadn’t brought it.

He kicked his shoes off, jumping onto my bed and pointing to the drinks, “I also got some hot chocolate, I wasn’t sure if you wanted any, but I was stopping anyway.”

I nodded, smiling at him, “Thank you, Percy. You’re the best.”

We both sat on my bed, watching the new season of Outerbanks together as we ate our dinner. I tried my best to pay attention to the show, but I couldn’t stop myself from yawning and zoning out.

When we both finished our food, Percy stood, taking the trash from my bed and throwing it into my trash can. I yawned again.

“You okay? I can go if you want to just go to bed,” he said.

I shook my head, “I’m okay,” I said, patting the spot next to me, “stay a little.”

I knew that I needed sleep, but I missed his presence. It felt weird that this was the first time seeing him in days.

I layed down on my bed, getting comfortable and yawning again. Percy paused the show, taking his place next to me again and laying on his side to face me.

“My mom called today,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” I said, “how is she doing?”

He chuckled, “she’s good, she said she’s happy you and Annabeth are here to ‘keep me in check’,” he said, using air quotes on the last bit.

I laughed, “seems like it’s the other way around right now, I wouldn’t have even remembered dinner if you didn’t bring it to me.”

He paused, rolling onto his back and fiddling with the edge of his sweatshirt sleeve. He didn’t say anything, and I could immediately tell that something was off.

“What’s up?” I said, still facing him. I found myself staring at his pretty face, and thinking about what Annabeth had been saying to me earlier that week. She always said that Percy and I should ‘stop pretending and just get together.’

It definitely wasn’t something that I could say I’ve never considered, I just couldn’t risk ruining the friendship. I’d seen several of my college friends lose their friends by taking it a step too far. I would never recover if I made things awkward between us.

He interrupted my thoughts, when he spoke again. “Paul and my mom asked about you.”

I smiled, moving slightly closer to him to get more comfortable, “Oh yeah? What did they say?”

He looked back down at his sleeve, fiddling with it again. He paused for another moment, before saying, “Just like— they keep asking about us…”

I hesitated, having an idea of what he meant, but I decided to push, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, tossing his arms down to his sides and staring back at the ceiling, “They like… make assumptions— just because we hangout so much.”

I nodded, deciding to question him further, “We hangout with Annabeth too most of the time.”

He glanced over at me, opening his mouth like he was about to say something, but turned back to the ceiling and began playing with his sleeve again.

I leaned forward to rest a hand on his arm, which he glanced at, before looking back at the ceiling.

I took a deep breath, realizing that he wasn’t going to speak up, so I did. “So they’re inquiring into the nature of our relationship?”

He snapped his head over to me, brows furrowing in confusion.

I laughed, “They are asking if we’re really just friends?”

He turned his head back to face the ceiling, “Ohhhh, yeah. Pretty much.”

I nodded, removing my hand from his arm and propping myself up slightly to get a better look at his face.

“And what did you say?” I asked.

He turned on his side, fully facing me now, and propped himself up on his arm so we were looking at eachother.

He breathed in, before saying, “I said I’m not really sure.”

I nodded, looking into his eyes and knowing where this conversation was leading. We’d been putting it off for years. It scared me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but looking into his sea-green eyes I knew that I couldn’t keep pretending.

“You’re not really sure?” I asked, cocking my head slightly to the side.

“I mean…” he started, and I watched his eyes scan my face before continuing, “I don’t know. It felt weird not seeing you this week. Like… I missed you.”

I laughed at his awkwardness, but said, “I missed you too, Percy.”

I swore I could see his gaze flicker down to my lips for a millisecond, but I chose to ignore it. It made me feel tense and my heart started racing.

He sighed, nodding, but sounding confident when he said,“What should I say then, next time they ask?”

I could feel my face heat up. I can’t keep dodging this. I can’t avoid it forever.

“What do you want to say?” I asked, trying to stall so that I wouldn’t have to make any decisions.

He pursed his lips, but didn’t lose his confidence, “I think it’d be fair to say that we’re not really just friends. And that we should have had this conversation a while ago.”

I nodded. Of course he knew what I was thinking. How could he not? We know each other almost as well as we know ourselves.

I swallowed, and my voice came out as a whisper, “I think that’d be fair to say.”

He nodded, and his gaze flickered down to my lips again, only slightly more noticeably this time.

I cleared my throat, my heart racing, “So if not friends, then what?” I asked quietly.

He searched my face, and I could feel his breath now. I wasn’t sure when we had gotten so close, but we were really close.

It’s not that I had never kissed a guy, I had. They’d all just been with people I never really cared about. I knew somewhere deep down that I would never really like anyone else. He was always in the back of my mind. And now with his breath on my face, I was nervous. We’d never crossed the line in our friendship beyond the occasional cuddle, but even that was rare.

“What do you want us to be?” He flipped the question on me, and his lip quirked into a small grin.

I paused, not knowing what to say. I searched his face, eyes focusing on his lips for a second longer than they should’ve.

“Can I be honest?” I whispered, eyes falling to his lips again before meeting his eyes.

He nodded, his eyes falling to my lips too. I could hear his breath quicken as the distance between us seemed to shrink.

“I’ve known we should’ve had this conversation for a long time, but now that we’re having it I don’t really know what to say,” I said, and his gaze returned to my eyes, “I really care about you, Percy.”

He nodded, “I really care about you, too.”

We stared at eachother, neither of us knowing what to do. Neither of us had ever been in a real relationship before. It was new territory for both of us. But of course Percy always knows exactly what to say.

“Will you go out with me? Tomorrow night?” He asked, before quickly saying, “Unless you have too much work, I mean.”

I smiled, feeling a fluttery sensation in my stomach before saying, “I’d love to.”

He nodded, scooting closer to me, “Yeah?”

I nodded, biting my lip and smiling, “Yeah.”

Our faces were inches from each other now. I let my gaze fall to his lips, and his hand reached out to rest on my jaw.

Slowly, he finally leaned in. His lips touched mine, softly at first, like he was scared that if he moved too fast, he might break me. I let out a soft exhale through my mode, and he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I could feel his hand slide from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.

We pulled away for a moment, both of us breathing heavy, and looking deeply into eachothers eyes. We both had massive grins painted on our face. Without a second thought, our lips were on eachothers again.

The room suddenly felt hot. My hands made their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my finger tips. All I can think is— why did we wait so long? I let my fingers curl in his shirt, bringing him closer, as the kiss quickly grows more urgent, more intense.

He held me tightly, like he was afraid I might slip away. I felt his hand slide down to my waist, pressing me against him. I let out a quiet gasp as he pulled me onto his lap, firmly guiding me until I straddled him. Nothing else mattered. Just him, our lips, the feeling of our bodies so close together after so many years.

His fingers hesitantly trailed up under my shirt, the touch sending shivers through me as he let his fingertips move along my bare skin. I could feel my breathing pick up, my hands sliding up to his shoulders. I found the courage to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He pulled away, breaking the kiss just long enough to let me lift it over his head, revealing the warm skin beneath. My hands explored his chest, his shoulders, feeling every inch of him as he watched me with that soft, intense gaze, like he’s waiting for my every move.

He slowly pushed my shirt up, and I shakily lifted my arms, letting him slide it off. When it was off, we locked eyes, still smiling like idiots. His hands quickly found my waist again, his fingers splaying across my back as he pulled me close, his lips finding mine once more. I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the slight brush of his chest as I pressed myself against him, feeling his heart racing just as fast as mine.

He grabbed my hips, encouraging me to move back and forth. I gasped into the kiss, and began grinding with his grip. We moved together, the friction between us heavy, and I let out a quiet moan. I couldn’t believe we were really doing this. I felt him shiver at the sound, his breath catching as he presses his forehead to mine, pulling away from the kiss but not stopping his movements.

“Gods,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely more than a breath. “I’ve wanted us for so long.”

I could almost feel tears prickle in my eyes, as I breathlessly replied, “Me too.”

He leaned down, kissing my neck with an intensity that I never knew he was capable of. He nipped and kissed, only pausing to mumble, “Since we were 15.”

His confession sent a surge of warmth through me, my hands moving to explore his back, tracing the muscles there. The muscles that I was so familiar with. That I’d seen in battle countless times.

I felt him shudder, his grip on my waist tightening as he lifted his head from my neck, pressing me against him with a need that matched my own. I rolled my hips, feeling the heat build, and he let out a low, breathless groan, his fingers digging into my skin as he joined our lips together again.

Our kiss was electric, heavy, and full of everything we wanted to say and do to each other for years. I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his, feeling the warmth of his skin. My eyes welled when he stopped moving our hips together, and I saw the soft, vulnerable smile that played at his lips as he whispered my name like a promise.

I whispered his back, feeling my heart fill with an affection that I’d been holding back all these years.

We stayed like that for a while, embracing each other with a few soft, stolen kisses every now and then. We whispered to each other about how happy we were, and he suggested a few dinner places for tomorrow night.

Eventually, we decided to lay down together, but when I finally got comfortable he sat up, saying it’s late and he should probably let me sleep.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes, “Stay, dummy.”

He smiled brightly, and layed back down, embracing me again. We fell asleep like that, only to be woken up the next morning by a knock on my door. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, but I nudged Percy awake.

We looked at each other, wide eyed, and scrambled to find our shirts and fix our appearances.

The knock came again.

“Just a second!” I called out, combing through my hair with my fingers as Percy carefully straightened out my blankets. He gave me a thumbs up when it looked satisfactory.

I nodded, turning to open the door. There stood Annabeth, open notebook in hand, not looking up yet but saying, “Gods, what took you so long?”

I looked at Percy for help, before hesitantly saying, “Sorry, my room was a mess.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking up suspiciously, when her eyes caught on Percy. She smirked, closing her book and looking between us.

She checked her watch with a knowing smirk, “Wow, Percy, what are you doing here so early?”

I could feel my face heat up, as Percy struggled to find his words.

“I- uhhh… yeah…” he so eloquently said.

Annabeth shook her head, smiling at us. “It’s about time. I’m going to the library, was just going to see if you wanted to come, but obviously you’re already occupied.” She said, turning and walking back down the hall.

I closed the door as she walked away, and Percy’s face was just as bright red as mine felt.

We stared at eachother for a moment, both of us unsure of what to do.

“Wanna get back in bed?” Percy asked, scratching the back of his neck.

I smiled, taking his hand and dragging him back up to my bed. “I’d love to.”

[hattiewritesalot]

Gevives (Beauty)

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

Summary: Jacaerys, ever the hard worker, is late to bed. Again. Luckily for him, you’re very forgiving.

Warnings: Reader and Jace have a daughter, one or two mentions of stress and overload, Jace being babygirl. Literally just fluff tbh

A/N: how’s it going lads im a little bit (very) in love with this pouty princess. I also wrote this at midnight for my sister so enjoy

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

A soft sigh escapes you as the wooden chair creaks against the stone floor, rocking back and forth, lulling you and your sweet daughter as she snores, slumped against your chest.

She’s as loud as the day she was born, kicking and screaming as she was lowered into your arms for the first time, and now, thank the gods, she screams less. She has, however, taken after her father with her snoring, noisy enough to rumble Dragonstone itself. You’re not surprised - not entirely, at least. Little Rhaenyra has been a daddy’s girl since the moment Jace held her, since the moment her chubby fingers curled around his one, and he weeped into her downy head. It baffles you that that was so long ago - you can see the image as clear as day.

Speaking of your most beloved husband, he’s still not here. His tendency to overwork himself is shining through, and he’s all but locked himself in his study to sort through his papers and meetings and arrangements and everything boring that you sometimes have the urge to burn so maybe, just maybe, he’ll come to bed on time.

‘Perks of being the eldest son, my darling wife.’ He’d once grinned, amber eyes glinting in the sunlight with that twinkle of mischief you love so much. He’d kissed you, then, and slipped away to occupy himself with his duties.

You can’t be mad at him, not really, not when your heart is brimming with the love and devotion you have for your Jace. Not when you’re carding your fingers through your toddler’s dark curls as she dreams. It doesn’t stop you from being frustrated though. You hate it when he burns himself out like this, knowing all too well the way he crumbles when the day is done. You’ll always be there, though, to pick up the shards and put him back together again, knowing he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

The door creaks open, and then it closes with a squeal of the hinges, and quiet footsteps patter behind you, Jace’s face peering around the rocking chair. He winces. “You’re awake?”

You cock a brow, shooting him a look. “Yes, I’m awake. And so are you.”

He sighs, then, pressing those full lips to your forehead and cradling your face, his free hand reaching down to stroke Rhaenyra’s hair. “I’m sorry, my wife. Everything is so… overwhelming right now. Some days I want to rip Aegon’s hair out, and some days I want to rip my own out.” 

“Please don’t. I quite like your pretty curls.”

“As you tell me so often, gevives.” Gevives. Beauty. Gods, this man has a chokehold on your heart.

“Perhaps I will find it in myself to forgive you.” You finally push up off your chair, cracking your back, groaning. “Remind me not to sit in that chair for too long.”

“I do remind you. You don’t listen.”

“You’re on thin ice, Velaryon.” 

You lower Rhaenyra into her cot, rocking it and shushing her gently when she squeaks. Jace’s hands curl around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “Our little princess.” He mumbles. “She’s perfect. Is she really ours?”

“Given that she snores like a bear and pouts all day, I’d say she is.”

He snorts. “I do not pout.” 

“He said, pouting.”

“You’re mean.” He turns you around, now, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You love it when he’s this close, when you can count every freckle, every streak of gold and brown in his eyes, every curl. You smile at him. “You love it.”

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head, as if every word he speaks ails him. “Yes, yes I do. Gods save me from my cruel wife and her cruel ways.”

You scoff, but laughter bursts through it, pushing his shoulder and walking to the bed. “Fine. I guess you won’t be sleeping next to your cruel wife, then?” 

He’s scrambling out of his day clothes and under the covers before you can even fathom it, pulling you into his arms. He has the blood of the dragon, and runs hot when he sleeps. It’s nice on colder nights like this one, where you could bury yourself in his arms and never leave. His deft fingers trail up and down your spine, lips pressed against your hairline.

He calls you the beauty, but it is only because you are so infatuated with the man next to you. Every part of him; the sweet, gentlemanly parts, and the bitter, ugly parts; holds a dear place in the organ beating beneath your breast. Jacaerys Velaryon isn’t just your husband - he’s your best friend, your soul-mate (as the poets may say), and every time his fingers intertwine with yours, you like to think that your very beings intertwine too. You and Jace will find each other wherever you need to, for you know he is never far when he loves you so.

He sighs, nestling into your hair, and you gently kiss his jaw. “Promise me something, husband?”

He hums in response.

“Promise me you’ll take a break tomorrow?”

It takes him a long moment, but eventually, he swallows, nodding, body sagging against yours. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Hush, I don’t need to hear it. I love you, alright? Even if you don’t show up to bed on time, even if you sometimes infuriate me with how much you put on yourself.”

He chuckles softly at that, pulling you in closer. “I adore you, my lady.”

You’re half-asleep by now, safe and content within the comfort of your lover’s arms. “Not as much as I adore you.”

You could have this argument for years, endless bickering of ‘I love you more’s, but you don’t. Not now, at least.

Now, you hold each other, falling asleep within the solidarity of your love.

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

I actually like this sort of a tiny bit

[noellefan101]

Silent Living

Characters: Noelle, Kinich, Lynette, Beidou, Diluc x mute GN!reader

Summary: You're mute, and cant talk? not a problem for your partner, they can find other ways to communicate, and honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: mute reader, most of them dont know sign language but there are people where i think they would either have learned it already or will learn it for you, gn reader as always

Note: hehe its kinda hard to write for Noelle tbh, i just can't see her romantically if that makes sense, its like a platonic obsession i have for her. but i chose to write for some girlies bc i felt like it, luv you :P

Noelle

She's a sweetheart and i fully believe she would try to learn sign language the day you meet for the first time. but for the sake of the cute gestures lets pretend she barely knows any words in it, or that you arent the best yourself despite probably needing it heh.

(she would teach you some if so, or learn with you)

In a classic Noelle fashion, she does literally anything for you, though people would normally just have to speak her name, you can't. so she always keeps an extra eye on you to ensure she's there when you need her help. that may be a given, but its truly what shes best at doing.

Loves writing little notes for you, whether its just so you can remember something or if its to invite you anywhere, she loves it. and she has definitely not been carrying pen and paper with her for weeks so you could write notes for each other, no no.

I dont imagine her being the best with words, but is always very good at comforting. so if you need some reassurance or just comfort you can come to her. and you can let her know to be silent by putting a finger over her mouth if you like the silence more. she wont be offended don't worry.

Kinich

Not very good with words and likes silence when possible, so it's very common for you to sit in silence doing an activity together. he's best with actions at least, both giving and receiving, so just doing a tiny chore for him would mean more than words could.

Though it may be difficult to do anything for each other since he's quite busy, and so could you be. but he always has time to sit with you for at least 30 minutes a day and just spend quality time together.

if you ever need anything from him, he has a notebook on him at all times that you're free to write in. Although Ajaw has made a fuss about it being annoying to wait for you, but he'll shut up if Kinich locks him up.

Lynette

She loves the silence you bring. being around her brother all the time can get annoying, no matter how much she loves him, so a quiet tea time with you is often just what she needs. she knows you can feel out of place or left out even since you cant communicate as easily with her siblings. but she is always ready to talk for you.

No matter how much she hates public speaking, and how often she gets her brother to speak for her, she'll speak for you. if there's anything you'd like to say, just write it down and show it to her. she might even know what you wanted to say, by how you stand and how your muscles move. so she will sometimes speak for you before you even get to start writing it down.

She has made sure you're a part of the conversation, not just there and looking around. she might have some knowledge about sign language, but she knows many do not and makes sure everyone understands you.

(she might even ask father if they can get classes in sign language, or at least the siblings of hers that you interact with most often)

Beidou

Maybe not the best at silent communication, but she tries her very best. if she doesnt know sign language she'll learn it, mostly because she feels it would make you more comfortable, but its also something that she may find interesting.

She is very good at dealing with different kinds of people though, so expect yourself to feel right at home wherever you are on her ship. she might even have started teaching her crew how to talk with you properly, whether thats getting you something write down on or learning them a bit of sign language that im not sure of.

Unfortunately it all goes in weird directions when she's drunk, while she talks for you it might be hard to get her to pay attention enough or even speak your thoughts properly. Kazuha is your savior in this case.

Diluc

He has made sure every single maid and anyone he hires learn to speak through their hands. he might even have prepared for it before you started dating, and even some of his staff you have never met before just knows how to speak with you.

Its a given that you're going to be well treated at the dawn winery, but Diluc makes sure you feel the most at home you'll ever experience. you have at least 1 maid whos ready to tend to you in a seconds notice, whether its jsut that you need something to write on or you need to know where you lover is.

Will literally drop anything for you with just a finger on his shoulder. whatever you need, he'll do it. need a hug? no need to even gesture it he knows, someone doesnt understand you at all? he's ready to talk in your place for hours on end.

I might have written it weirdly again sry, im not mute and i just like writing, Luv Ya- Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[rinhaler]

hii <3 more uncle nanami please? extra smutty hehe <33

still can't get over how much everyone likes uncle nanamin tbh agjdkshlgadsg, enjoy x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest, sex toys, squirting, age gap, manipulation, forced orgasm, ddlg esque.

words: 1.3k

“What’s in the bag, uncle Nanamin?” you ask, blinking up at him so sweetly as he sits on the edge of your bed. He hands it to you, it’s a glittery pink gift page, and your eyes widen with excitement. “For me?” you ask, taking it from him.

“For you, sweetheart.” he nods, watching as you take a long, gift wrapped box out of the bag. You look at him for permission to open it, to which he nods, again. It’s wrapped so meticulously, which doesn’t surprise you in the least. Your uncle is so precise about every little detail. So you try and offer the same in return. You don’t tear into the wrapping paper, you do all you can to open it with minimal ripping. He sees how your eyes widen with fear when the object comes into view, and he strokes his thumb over your thigh. “Don’t be scared.” he tells you.

“I-It’s big…” you tell him, looking at the size of the box and the white Hitachi wand printed on the front. “Is this… a sex toy?” you ask him, innocently. He smiles at that, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead.

He nods, again.

You open the box to reveal the toy, and it’s bigger than you could have imagined. You pull out the wire and plug it into the extension plug down the side of your bed. He watches you, like you’re a child opening gifts on Christmas day. And he chuckles when you turn on the wand and feel how powerful the vibrations are.

You meet his stare again, gulping heartily when you feel out of your depth.

“I— uncle Nanamin…” you pout.

“Awe, you don’t get it?” he asks, and you shake your head. He stands up and locks your bedroom door. He knows you’re home alone but he isn’t willing to take the risk. He’s thankful for his upstanding gentleman exterior, and he’s even more thankful that the rest of the family seems to fall for it. Even you, to an extent. It’s the perfect cover for him to spend this time alone with you. Corrupting you with each visit and moulding you into his perfect little girl.

“Do I use it on my… my…” you feel your skin sear with warmth as you flush with embarrassment, unable to bring yourself to complete your sentence.

“Your little pussy? Yes, sweetheart.” he finishes it for you. His fingers hook under your t-shirt, pulling it over your body to reveal a pretty, blue push up bra beneath. He reaches around behind you and unhooks it, your breasts spilling free as they’re bared to him. He hisses, quietly, enamoured by the sight.

“It’s scary…” you tell him.”

“No, no it’s not scary,” he continues. He pulls you further down the bed until you’re flat on your back. He pulls at your shorts and commands you to lift your ass so he can remove them fully. You’d decided to forgo any panties. You know they don’t stay on your body for long when your uncle is in town. “Gonna make you feel nice… I’ll show you.”

He takes the wand from your hand and puts it down for a moment. You’re already dripping wet for him, he supposes it’s some sort of pavlovian response to his voice at this point. He never fails to find you dripping whenever he sneaks into your room.

Your thighs are pushed into your chest until your knees are by your ears. He traces a finger from your slick clit down to your clenching little hole, his fingers ghosting the entrance until he pulls away completely.

He smirks when you jolt at the sound of the toy coming to life. Your whole body shakes as he teases your inner thighs with it.

“Remember I told you I want to see you make a mess for me one day? This will help.” he reminds you.

“Will it hurt, uncle Nanamin?” you ask him, your body trembles as the vibrations surge through you.

“No, it’ll feel nice. Really nice. It’s just tickling you now, right?” he asks, and you nod, agreeing. “Well. How about now…” he questions, lowering the large vibrating head to your cunt. And the moan you let out is raucous when he finds the perfect angle on your clit.

He covers your mouth, demanding that you be quiet. You’re home alone, yes, but that isn’t to say your family won’t come home sooner rather than later. His eyes are strict, but compassionate all at once. You’re humming, loudly, and dampening his palm as you try to wriggle away from the toy.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.” he tells you, moving his hand slightly to give you the chance to respond. “It’s good. Isn’t it?”

“Too much!” you yell, “too much f’me!” you cry you, earning his palm sealing your lips again.

“Be quiet.” he warns you, strictly again. “You don’t want to get in trouble, do you? You’ll like it when you cum, so be a good girl and take it.” he commands, turning the vibration setting up a notch.

Your eyes fill with tears and your body convulses wildly. This is nothing, he thinks. And yet, you’re flailing around like this? Your screams are muffled by his large hand, but he longs to drink up every decibel of their true volume. His pants begin to tent and strain and he relishes in the sight of the cutest forbidden fruit he’s ever head the pleasure of handling.

He turns the notch up, one last time.

Your eyes cross and you swear your heart stops beating. You’re cursing, though he’ll never know, as he presses the wand hard onto your firm clit.

“That’s it, good girl, cum for me.” he encourages you, adding the slightest pressure yet again to your trembling clit. “Make a mess of the toy. Make a mess of me. Wanna see, so show me, princess.”

And you can’t resist a direct order from your favourite uncle. You begin spasming, your cunt twitching as you cum. And it’s the hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt. And you feel happy, you think, when you realise how elated your uncle is upon seeing your pussy gush out a fountain of liquid for him.

Your sheets are ruined, completely soaked and you can’t think of anything worse than doing laundry after how spent your little cunt is. But he’ll do the laundry. He’d never expect you to do something so menial because of his demands.

He’s thrilled to see you’re capable of such a feat. His trousers are equally as ruined as the sheets below and he hopes he’ll have time to change before the family returns from their shopping trip.

“Good girl, pretty fucking pussy…” he speaks, though you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or directly to your cunt. He pulls upward on your skin until the hood of your clit raises, putting more pressure on your overworked pearl. You yelp, helplessly, trying again to escape the feeling. “Sorry, princess, got carried away.” he switches off the toy.

He holds you in his arms for what feels like a lifetime as you try and process what just happened. You’re so wet. And you feel cold. But the warmth of his body caressing yours is enough to feel better.

“D-Do I… can I keep it?” you wonder.

“Yes.” he nods, “If you liked it, it’s yours.”

“Will you use it again? I-It was nice… so nice…”

“Of course.” he smiles, kissing the crown of your head. “And while I’m gone you can use it on yourself. You can make yourself cum whenever you like when I’m not here.”

What you like about your uncle Nanami is how considerate he is when it comes to you. But what he likes most about you is how easy to manipulate you are. You’ll become addicted to that wand and associate it with him. He’s never been worried about you straying and wanting to fuck other guys when he isn’t around. But he wants to be careful. He wants to make sure you remember who you belong to. You need to remember the only man who should make you cum like that.

What’s wrong with a man giving a gift to his favourite niece, anyway?

© 2023 rinhaler

[starsinmylatte]

Maybe Silco with a motherly Fem!Reader who adores Jinx? Something with breeding & pregnancy? Domestic bliss please?

Soft

Oooh, I do love some good domestic bliss... and I've always loved the idea of Silco's lover being a motherly figure for Jinx. Tbh, it would've solved so many problems in the show....

Rating: Explicit. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Pairing: Silco x Afab!reader.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Breeding kink, sliiiiight degradation, Silco fantasizes about pregnant reader, cockwarming, y'all already know what's up

Join my taglist here!

(By clicking read more, you agree that you are 18+. Minors DNI)

You were by far the softest thing in Silco’s life. The Eye of Zaun -the most feared kingpin in all of the Undercity- was not a man who usually enjoyed life's softer, sweeter things, but you were the one exception.  

He could still vividly remember the day you showed up at his door, demanding to see Powder. Silco had wanted nothing more than to laugh. It was ridiculous, the way you showed up alone and completely unarmed to The Last Drop and demanded things from him of all people. Under any normal circumstance, you would’ve never gotten past his bouncers at the door, but he could barely get Jinx to eat or respond to him. Her door was locked, and the lock was reinforced from the inside…. he was worried about his new daughter, and you seemed to know her. So, against his better judgment, Silco took one look at the motherly concern you seemed to show for Jinx and brought you to her door. 

He watched carefully as you knelt in front of the door and took a deep, calming breath. “Darling, I know it’s been so hard, and you’ve been so brave… could you please come out and eat something? For me?” The door flew open in a blinding flash of unkempt, neon blue hair, and Jinx was in your arms. The small girl was sobbing and clutching you so tightly, almost like she was afraid you’d disappear at any second. She was trying to say something, but her sobs distorted her words to the point they were unrecognizable. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, picking her up as she buried her face into the crook of your neck. Silco watched in shock as you stood and turned to face him calmly. “What are your thoughts on soup?.” 

In the span of five minutes, you had nearly kicked his door in to see Jinx, gotten her to come out of her room for the first time in a few days, and now you were asking him about…. soup??

“Excuse me?” He managed to say, a look of pure bewilderment still plastered on his usually smug face. 

“She likes it, so I’m going to make some. You don’t look like you’ve eaten recently either, so I want to know if I need to make enough for three.” Your tone was soft but completely matter-of-fact as you stroked the young girl’s hair. 

Silco nodded slowly. “Soup would be…. fine.” 

Without another word, you simply turned on your heel and headed for the kitchen, murmuring words of comfort to the child in your arms. 

_______

You were the brutally soft woman who had invaded Silco’s life and turned it upside down in the best way possible…. Which is how the Kingpin found himself in his current position: buried deep inside you, biting your shoulder as the thick, swollen head of his cock kissed your cervix. 

The pain-tinged pleasure was almost blinding, but fuck, it was exactly what you wanted. It was enough to have you desperately moaning his name and your back arching. The Eye of Zaun kissed the column of your neck hungrily, trailing his lips all the way up to your ear. Silco’s warm breath caressed the shell of your ear as he nipped at the delicate skin before murmuring. “You’re sure about this, my lovely?” 

“Silco, please.” You whined, voice barely audible over the sound of him fucking you. “W-we talked about this. I want a baby…. I want you to get me pregnant.” 

Silco growled in response, reaching up to palm the swell of your soft, generously curved breasts. He had you pressed back across the smooth wood of his desk, all of his papers and work carelessly thrown to the side as he took you roughly, with an almost singular purpose. The gold-trimmed bottom hem of the dress you favored had been roughly shoved up around the curves of your hips to allow him more room between your thighs. He leaned over to kiss you hungrily.

“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, sliding one of his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. Your tongue laved around it, eyelids fluttering shut in bliss as he pressed it in further. 

Silco hissed at the sight, trailing his other hand up to caress the soft skin of your lower abdomen. He pressed down with the flat of his palm, making you cry out at the sudden pressure before following it with another gentle massage. “Wanting me to fuck you raw like this…. Such a pretty thing, and you want to carry my child.” 

The thought of you pregnant was nearly enough to make him cum instantly. Your body would change… swell with the life he put inside you. Everyone would know it… Everyone would see his claim on you. Yes, Jinx would be getting a sibling, and Silco would be glad about that alone, but his true desires were much more selfish.

You whimpered as his clever fingers found their next target: one of your overly-sensitive nipples. Silco bit back a moan of his own, imagining your breasts swollen and heavy with milk. “Let me hear it again, lovely. Say my name.” 

A particularly delicious thrust of his hips punctuated each word, and Silco’s name fell from your kiss-swollen lips. Your orgasm burned through your body as you fell apart beneath him, whimpering and begging him to finish, to give you what you craved most. 

Silco’s beautiful green eye rolled back in bliss as his fingers forcefully dug into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises as he chased his own climax. His hips snapped into yours lewdly, and with one last strangled groan, the Eye of Zaun joined you in pure euphoria. The movement of his hips slowed, and you felt his warm seed fill you completely. 

Your head dropped back against the desk with a soft thunk, your energy completely and utterly spent. Silco caressed your temple, raising one of your hands to his lips to kiss it gently. 

“Beautiful…” he murmured, letting his gaze wash over you unashamedly and making no move to leave your warmth.  You shifted your hips slightly, drawing a short, sharp hiss from your lover as you sighed contentedly, completely relaxed beneath him.  

Silco dipped down to press more reverent kisses against your skin, his smooth, deep voice intensely comforting. “We are going to stay just like this for a few more minutes. It wouldn’t do for any of our hard work to go to waste.”

____________

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @eriseffigy @ashotofspotchka @thebeardedmoon @dont-mess-with-my-fandom @redflamesbaku @My-awakened-ghost @agatemermaid @shadow-pancake9 @zaunsin @warpedbands @kemeso25 @ironandglass @nyx2021 @amyroswell @tinybookworm16 @dendrophileunsated @cassandrablacker @aikoiya @lemmielem

(If you are on my tag list and your name is crossed out, then the info I have for you either needs updating, or Tumblr is being strange)

[blue-jisungs]

ancient runes and sea creatures

summary. leehan ends up in his worst nightmare - getting the perfect student into trouble

au. hogwarts!!!! ravenclaw!reader x hufflepuff!leehan

word count. 4722 (got a lil too carried away... )

warnings , extras. leehan is intimidated by reader ?? but in a like. impressed way?? also reader is a head girl prefect!!. a slightly suggestive implication at one point but like, its misinterpreted ++ a bunch of hogwart lingo and lore (?). use od leehans real name. mention of a creature that eats humans

author's note. a biiig thank u to @slytherinshua and @gluion for pushing me out of my writers block w this one!!! and esp moni, who tbh came up w this plot!!! i hhope u like it!!! it kinda took a self-indulent route for me (ancient runes as chinese characters haha... haha... and leehan being a mid student w niche hobbies vs the perfect student yn who! shocker! likes! studying... hahah....ha.....) ANYWHO. also love u to death @l3visbby for proofreading!! where would i be w/o u atp....

also i wanted to post one last thing in 2024!!! so i hope u enjoy it and get ready bc ive been cooking <3

leehan fixed his glasses, fingers brushing against the coarse pages of his favorite book. then, he glanced at his notebook. filled from top to bottom with neat, medium sized, handwritten text. here and there were loose sketches and photographs attached with fish shaped paper clips.

the hufflepuff boy looked up at his gryffindor friends - jaehyun and woonhak. they were chatting about something loudly, the sound of their voices blending in with the noise in the corridor. 

sunlight peeked from behind the windows leehan was leaning against, making him feel even more indulged in his own world. 

“we’ll keep going. don’t wanna be late for potions!” jaehyun suddenly announced in his ear and ruffled his hair “see you, donghyun!” 

he just smiled in return, woonhak having goodbye. 

before returning to his book, he let out a small sigh and started looking at the students passing him by. a lot of friends giggling and talking, some people studying or snacking on colorful candy. 

then, as if a lightning struck him, he tensed upon noticing you. 

you were walking with fast pace yet not hurried one. the navy and grey colored tie rustled on the wind, your hair waving gently. a small frown was painting on your graceful features.

“what do you mean sungho is not showing up? i need everyone there” you asked, glancing at your ravenclaw friend for explanation. however, they did not have any. 

“no idea, y/n! he just told me to tell you and wandered off… you have to–” they started. 

“i don’t have to do anything. we have to cooperate if we want everything work out” with a scoff, you turned your gaze away and locked eyes with leehan for a mere moment. 

he felt blood rushing to his cheeks, quickly glancing down at his book. you looked scary. no, intimidating. 

“this thing isn’t here by accident” you gently tapped your head girl badge with pride. “let’s go to class now. i’ll catch sungho later” 

leehan didn’t even realize he was holding in a breath - only when the sound of your voice faded away, he released it. 

he tilted his head and smiled softly, flipped through the pages. he only stopped when he saw a detailed print of a basilisk. quite terrifying yet devilishly smart creature. 

leehan closed the book and packed his belongings, slowly going towards his classroom. 

“oh come on, don’t be such a loner!” riwoo’s whines reached nearby standing student’s ears, causing them to look over at the hufflepuffs. leehan cleared his throat and let out a sigh of defeat.

“fine. who else is going? you know i don’t enjoy crowded places in particular…” he started but his friend already started pushing him towards the exit.

“well you, me, jaehyun, woonhak… and, drumroll please! yes, you guessed it! two infamous slytherins, park sungho and han taesan!” riwoo grinned. leehan nodded, satisfied. that’s a perfect amount of people. “and hanbin”

“just hanbin?” leehan frowned, suspicious. riwoo smiled awkwardly, forcing his friend to move faster.

“and sohee!” riwoo hesitated. 

“and…?” leehan grunted, halting in place.

“that’s all! i promise!” sanghyeok put his hand over his heart “hufflepuff’s honor!”

leehan just scoffed and followed his friend to three broomsticks. it was weekend, after all. going out with more than two people once in a while won’t hurt him, surely. 

it was warm inside, the smell of delicious food hitting his nostrils. donghyun was quick to spot his friends (and their friends). lately jaehyun was detachable from sohee and hanbin. 

eight butterbeers were already waiting on the table, sticking to the wood. 

“you made it, woah! you have my respect!” woonhak, the youngest, joked. sungho patted the seat next to him and leehan sat down, smiling awkwardly. 

“and you? shouldn’t you be on the prefect meeting or whatever?” taesan asked suddenly, sungho rolling his eyes. 

“i should. but if i skip one, nothing will happen” he shrugged, reaching for his butterbeer. 

“y/n seemed pretty upset about it” the words slipped out of leehan’s lips before he could realize it. everyone looked at him, a bit shocked, so he quickly added: “i heard it when she was passing me by. nothing crazy, it’s not like i talk to her or something” 

the mere thought of standing near you terrified him, not to mention talking. donghyun didn’t know how sungho –  or anyone, really – was doing that. 

“she’s being dramatic. miss perfect… she decided to be in charge of organizing almost everything this year, at least it feels like it” sungho mumbled. 

“yeah, it’s crazy how she manages to do it all. well, let’s just hope she won’t cast melfors jinx on you” jaehyun teased 

“his head is as big as a pumpkin already, though” taesan snickered and was met with sungho’s fist on his shoulder. 

you were sitting on the grass, crossing out the ideas that seemed foolish. the weather was cold, yet snow hasn’t fallen yet. even though it was november, you were in charge of organising events for students that are going to stay at hogwarts during christmas. you being one of them. 

well, it wasn’t fully your responsibility - other prefects were supposed to help. 

“stupid sungho…” you mumbled, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck. 

you looked up and adored the view in front of you. the last of leaves falling off trees, being swept by wind. here and there you could see some students but during this cold season, majority preferred to stay inside. then, you noticed a particular silhouette. 

someone was squatting dangerously close to the lake. 

you stood up, packing your belongings in a rush. 

as you approached the reckless student, you noticed the yellow and black colors of hufflepuff. of course. you opened your mouth to scold their behavior but you heard a quiet murmur. 

“hm? how did you get here, little one? you belong to the island. you couldn’t have possibly swam over here” 

you leaned a bit forward and peeked over the hufflepuff student’s shoulder. he was gently reaching his pointer finger out to a bowtruckle.

the small, green creature was staring at the stranger, big brown eyes blinking slowly. it slowly meet half-way with the person’s finger. 

“you’re not as shy as you friends” a low chuckle made you smile “i should get you back there… but how?” 

the person rose their head up and looked around. the bowtruckle pointed at you. 

“oh?” the student tilted their head and looked through their shoulder, meeting your curious gaze. you gasped, getting caught. 

the guy’s eyes widened, lips tightening. 

“oh” he mumbled. you frowned, his features looking somehow similar. 

the hufflepuff boy stood up, acting as if he did not just hid the small creature in his pocket. he tried to walk away but you stopped him. 

“hey! it’s dangerous to be out here” you cleared your throat. the guy stopped in his tracks, back facing you “do you have an idea what kind of beasts are there?”

a soft smile cracked on his lips, eyes trained on the ground. 

“kelpies, grindylows, selkies… and oh, the giant squid. man, they are so…” he whispered and you were certain he thought his words didn’t reach you. yet, they did. you smiled, realizing he was probably another creature-obsessed student.

“anyway, i do appreciate your care towards this little fella. however, it would be better if hagrid took care of him” you looked at him with a straight face. the hufflepuff boy kept avoiding eye contact and failed to notice the silly bowtruckle escaping from his pocket. 

the green creature ran down his pants and started making circles around you. 

“i, uh… i don’t know how to hold him” you scoffed, trying to catch it. 

“like this. make sure not to tug the leaf on its head…” he breathed out and caught the bowtruckle, holding it in two hands. 

awkward silence fell between you two, the boy stubbornly keeping his head low. 

“i’ll keep going” he mumbled and wandered off to hagrid’s hut, leaving you puzzled and somehow intrigued.

“hey, chill out” sungho nudged your shoulder, casing your fountain pen to jerk and leave a crooked line. you glared at him.

“i would if someone helped me. i still have to come up with ideas for the three last days and i need to turn them in to mcgonagall by friday” you huffed and tossed your notebook aside. 

sungho puffed his cheeks and looked over at taesan for help. he just shrugged, carelessly tucking his hands into his pockets.

“don’t look at me. i’m not even a prefect” his cat-alike smirk made you even more frustrated.

“okay, well… maybe try asking some students what would they want to do?” sungho proposed, scanning your face to gauge your reaction. you let out a small huff.

“see, here we go. thanks. now i just have to ask around who’s staying…” you groaned and noted down the idea, closing your notebook. “but i’ll do that later. now i’ll go, i promised professor snape to help him clean the classroom. a reckless student just… caused a mess, so to say” 

the exchanged amused looks and you raised your eyebrows. 

“what?” 

“nothing. have fun” sungho snorted. his gaze suddenly snapped up to someone else and he waved. you noticed three people walking up. 

one of them looking similar.

“hey, myungjae, do you happen to know someone who’s staying at hogwarts during christmas?” sungho asked, leaning on the table. your fingers twitched at the sight of him almost spilling a cup of juice with his elbow.

“well, uh… our leehan and ricky, i think. and zhanghao. and hanbin, he promised to stay with them so they wouldn’t feel lonely” a boy in gryffindor uniform answered and looked at you, a wide smile painting on his lips.

“you’re staying?” taesan asked. you looked at the only hufflepuff boy in the group. so that was leehan?

“yeah” he answered shortly, purposefully averting his gaze from you. 

“why–?” taesan kept asking and you just sighed. 

“is there anything you would like to do? during the break. i need to organize events for students so i figured it would be the best idea to ask them personally” you crossed your arms. 

everyone looked at the guy, his head tilted down and eyes glued to his shoes. 

“what’s up with him?” the other gryffindor student whispered. 

you waited for a moment before shaking your head. that seemed to work on the boy - he finally looked at you, shyly. 

“it’s a hard question, i know. just… hit me up once you figure it out” you sent him a soft smile and went your way. 

“what’s up with you? is the potion blowing up in your  face still on your mind?” jaehyun laughed and nudged leehan’s shoulder. 

“so that was him after all” taesan snickered. 

“chill out, donghyun. y/n is really cool, don’t need to be all tensed up around her” sungho teased. leehan looked around, scanning the great hall. some people were looking their way - but that was probably nothing serious, right? just a bunch of losers, a prefect and the head girl prefect that’s an all a student.

“earth to leehan! why are you staying here?” jaehyun asked, waving his hand before the hufflepuff boy’s eyes. 

a playful smile painted on leehan’s lips before he explained his reasons to his friends. 

rushing through the dark hallway, you pressed your textbook closer to your chest. it was way past the curfew and you hoped flich was done with his late patrols on this side of the castle. you just happened to get too focused on ancient runes and–

“oof-!”

you felt the impact of bumping into something and almost landed on the ground when a strong hand prevented you from falling. you squeezed your eyes, the darkness not allowing you fully to recognize the stranger.

“y/n…?” his soft voice rang familiar and you glanced at his uniform. the yellow badge with a proud badger adorned his chest.

“leehan, right?” you scoffed and he helped you regain balance, taking a step back. that way, the moonlight sneaking through the windows fell on his face, highlighting his features. 

he fixed his glasses, brows slightly furrowed.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, blinking slowly. even though your prefect instincts kicked in, you were genuinely curious. 

this boy had just a mysterious aura to him. always so aloof, almost distant. nowadays, you caught yourself noticing him, usually alone reading a book or doing something. something, indeed. just like when you saw him near the lake. he always seemed to be looking for some kind of creatures. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

“i… uh, i was researching” he smiled gently. his gaze was fixed on you - unlike other times. maybe he didn’t feel so shy now that the midnight darkness was surrounding you two. you thought it was cute. “and, uh… you?”

“ancient runes. they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun” you smiled and nudged his arm gently “let’s go together, our dorms are in the same direction”

he nodded and followed you, the quiet sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.

“did you think about the question? it’s okay if you haven’t, i was just curious” you asked, glancing at him.

“personally, strolling around hogwarts at such hour is nice. i wouldn’t mind it if i was able to do it without the possibility of getting in trouble” he answered. you agreed.

“i haven’t thought about that. hm. maybe it’ll be possible since there’s gonna be less students. i’ll talk to mcgonagall about it” you hummed “thanks” 

“and, uh, did you get it all done? like, the events” his voice was quiet. he wasn’t shy but more so, he was cautiously picking his words. 

“yes but there’s not going to be much. people i asked didn’t seem interested” you sighed.

“it’s a shame, you’ve been working hard to come up with anything” leehan sent you a reassuring smile. a strange glint sparkled in his eye, some kind of sadness. 

“what can i do? i guess they want to be alone, apparently” you scoffed.

“meow”

you two froze, feet glued to the floor. leehan looked at you, wide eyed. 

before you could realize, he was pulling you to hide behind a column. with your head squished against his chest, you could hear his heart pounding as if it was about to rip out of his ribcage. 

his hand naturally rested on your head, the soft fanning of his breath against your hair. 

the sound of footsteps was coming closer and closer as you tried to think of something. 

a sudden beam of light caused leehan to squint his eyes, pulling you slightly closer. 

“what an absurd! not only it is after curfew, you are also… doing things that should be kept private! this place is coming to an end! who would have thought, students… of opposite-!”

“what? no! it’t not like that!” you choked out, turning around on your heel. 

“mrs l/n?!” filch gasped, and mrs norris’ loud meow was almost soul ripping “out of all people! you?”

“no, it’s not like that! we just…” leehan’s voice was quiet, almost stuttering. 

“yes? explain your red faces then! someone who was caught wouldn’t be such a blushing mess! dear merlin, what is going on with those youngsters nowadays!” the caretaker whined.

“we weren’t doing anything, mr filch! we just- we tried to hide! from you, it is. not from you as in… we didn’t-” you tried to explain. when you turned around to check up on the ravenclaw boy, he was indeed as red as the gryffindor representative color. his eyes were glued to the ground and you could swear you saw sweat dripping down his temple.

“detention!”

his eyes snapped up, wide as two prophecy orbs. panic written all over his face, fingers fiddling. 

“it’s my fault. let’s not bring y/n into this” he spoke up, swallowing hard. 

“how so? i see you two. not just you, boy” mr filch said with an attitude, picking up mrs norris. “i’m not repeating myself. detention. madam pince needs help in the library, so it’s just perfect” 

“but-” leehan tried to cut in but the cat interrupted him with an aggressive hiss. 

“now go! before i take points from your houses!” the caretaker tsked and you ran off, grabbing his hand. you could only hear distant murmurs “the head girl… youngsters are getting worse and worse each year…”

once out of his reach, almost at the ravenclaw dormitory, you realized you’re still holding his hand. leehan halted, gasping.

“i’m so sorry, y/n! i don’t know what’s gotten into him but i’ll do it myself. please, don’t bother–” the hufflepuff boy started rambling, avoiding your gaze. was he scared you’re angry at him?

you gently put your hand on his arm.

“hey” 

leehan slowly looked into your eyes; however, just for a split second. his breath was heavy in the silence. 

“it’s alright. i can handle one detention. in the library? it sounds like a pleasure to me” you huffed, trying to cheer him up. poor boy, he must’ve really felt guilty. “he got so pissed because he has never felt the touch of a woman. mr filch got jealous, that’s all” 

you chuckled but leehan remained quiet. well, maybe that was a failed attempt at trying to cheer him up. 

“i, uh. anyway, i’m sorry too. don’t beat yourself about it, okay?” you whispered, patting his arm. leehan’s small nod made you content. “sleep well, leehan” 

he felt your hand slip off his shoulder. 

maybe if he wasn’t too ashamed to look up, he would’ve noticed the way you looked back at him before entering the dormitory.

leehan was standing between the bookshelves, enjoying the smell of books. the library was quiet, thanks to the majority of students having left already. even madam pince wandered off to somewhere. 

“hi”

he turned his head to the side and was shocked to see you. out of your ravenclaw uniform, at that.

“hi” he whispered and quickly returned his gaze to the book he was holding. he gulped nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing.

it was his worst nightmare, actually. bringing the all-star student into detention with him. even though the fault was technically on both sides, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. you should be resting and not… 

“how’s it going?” you asked quietly, standing next to him. your back faced the bookshelf he was facing, side profiles matching. 

“it’s quite pleasant, to be frank” he mumbled in response “you didn’t have to come here”

you scoffed and scanned all the books, laying in messy piles. they really needed reorganizing.

“would i really be able to call myself a student without getting in trouble even once?” you snickered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i told you not to worry about it, leehan”

silence fell between you two, only the sound of him flipping the pages bringing warm comfort.

“it’s donghyun, actually” he said softly with a twinge of happiness. you cocked your head and glanced at him, grabbing a random book. “leehan is a nickname that just… stayed. donghyun is my real name”

“it’s pretty” it slipped out of your lips before you could realize, so you just hung your head low and decided to think of a strategy on how to resort the books. leehan smirked and put the book he was holding on one of the shelves. to break the awkward tension you accidentally created, you cleared your throat “uh, did you take care of that bowtruckle back then?”

“bowtruckles aren’t really my thing so i took it to hagrid. he promised me to get it back to its home tree” he hummed, reaching for another book. he ran his fingers over the navy colored cover, the remaining letters of a handwritten title barely there anymore.

“so what is, then?” you asked. 

even though you didn’t have to be quiet, you two kept talking softly. you couldn’t put your finger on it but maybe it was the overall atmosphere of the library. alas, you wouldn’t say you minded. it was comforting.

“sea creatures” donghyun answered with a soft sigh. did you irritate him? 

“sorry. you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i’m just curious about you” you mumbled. 

your shoulders were touching and you felt his arm move now and then whenever he reached out to put away a book. 

leehan hummed in deep thought, far away with his thoughts - hence, he didn’t hear you.

he never would have thought that he would be conversing with you. you were just so out of his league and intimidated him. good grades, friends with everyone… but deep down it was your organization skills. you just had it all together. despite all those side things you took care of, you still managed to find time to study. heck, you even liked it? he recalled your conversation from the hallway. what did you say about ancient runes…?

“they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun.” 

how can one find thousands of new icons to learn, memorise and remember… relaxing. he was a bit jealous that you did it so effortlessly. 

and sure, he heard you complaining about tests and exams. but you still passed with ease. unlike him, who no matter how much he studied, still barely passed. 

“ouch!”

a soft thump of a book falling brought him back to life. 

he leaned down to pick it up but only bumped against your forehead. 

blood rushed to his cheeks out of embarrassment. but you just giggled and took the book, putting it back. 

he must have been zoned out for a while because he noticed you did one of the shelves already. 

you grabbed another book. it had a black cover and no title whatsoever. you started flipping pages to check what even it’s about. leehan, who was peeking through your shoulder, saw a glimpse of an interesting drawing.

“the giant squid” he placed his finger before you closed the book. you were startled a bit and looked around to meet his face quite close to yours. 

yet, his brown eyes were fixated on the creature.

“do you know it’s semi-domesticated? on the chocolate frog cards its described as “the bane” of hogwarts’ students who wanted to go for a “dip in the lake”. it’s so dumb. first of all, it lives very deep in the lake, so even a small dip wouldn’t hurt. and secondly, it’s harmless. it…” he hesitated and a shy smile formed on his lips. you couldn't help but smile as well “it even allows students to feed it bread”

“really?” you asked in disbelief, turning your gaze to look at the drawing of a giant squid. donghyun’s low hum of confirmation made shivers ran down your spine.

“toast to be specific” he added and you felt a movement.

leehan stepped closer and you could feel his body almost pressing against yours, his breath softly fanning over your cheek. the hufflepuff leaned closer to read the information. right, of course.

“but you know, it must be because its magical. true giant squids, architeuthis i think, wouldn’t be able to stand our lake’s lack of salinity. and normally, it wouldn’t digest food” donghyun shrugged. you didn’t know what was happening to you - you couldn’t prevent your smile from growing. listening to him rambling about his niche sea creature interest really warmed your heart.

oh, this boy got you whipped.

“i think it’s a subspecies. like kneazles and mundane cats” leehan added, his finger tracing the black inked illustration of the squid’s tentacles.

your breath hitched. you wanted to reply, to throw a comment. but you realized you had no knowledge in this discipline, making you even more intrigued with donghyun.

“i really want to see it one day. maybe in summer. sometimes it plays with students, you know? lays out its tentacles out of the lake and just… lets the students mess with it” he tsked “hopefully…” 

“i’d like to see that” you giggled. you heard a faint gasp and glanced at him. his eyes snapped back at you, as if he just realized he’s been rambling. 

“i’ll take you with me, then. i planned on going at the end of the year, just before leaving for summer break” he shot you a soft smile, small crinkles forming around his eyes (and you swore your knees just went weak). 

“i’m in” you grinned and gently moved his finger out of the book. then, you closed it and stood on your tiptoes to put it on the higher shelf.

however, you couldn’t reach.

“let me help you” donghyun’s tender voice once again rang from behind you. 

soon enough, you felt his warm hand on your hip as he took the book from your hand and placed it for you. for a mere moment you could feel his chest pressing against your back, the smell of his cologne invading your senses like a swarm of butterflies whirling around you.

you didn't even realize when the hufflepuff boy was back in his position, putting back the rest of the books. and further on ramling about sea creatures.

“there was also a case of the giant squid helping a student that had fallen into the lake…”

sitting on a nearby bench, you were writing the ancient runes to form a sentence. actually, you were writing in your journal about today’s date with donghyun. his own notebook was laying next to you - he was afraid to get it wet. 

“ah, y/n, quick! a grindylow!” he yelped and you shot to your feet, dropping your journal onto the bench. with snow crunching underneath your feet, you sprinted towards the hufflepuff boy. he had his scarf and hat on, pink nose peeking from the layers. 

“how did it come here?” you asked curiously, quickly joining his side. 

leehan's  gloved hand grabbed yours and pointed at the quickly swimming creature. it was barely visible due to its dark color blending with the green shade of the lake but you could see its outline. 

“my bet is looking for food. they like fish. or maybe it was bored. or…” donghyun hesitated, looking over at you. you shifted your gaze at him, looking at his big brown eyes hidden behind his glasses. “or… it came here for its prey!”

donghyun suddenly wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground and spinning around. you squealed, taken by a surprise. 

“they don’t eat humans!” you whined when he put you down.

“uh… sure…” he chuckled and reached to the pocket of his puffy jacket. he grabbed some dried algae and threw it into the water. you moved closer to him, suddenly scared. interlocking arms with his, you snuggled onto his side.

“it eats people?” you asked quietly as you saw the creature swimming closer to the food. its head poked out of the water surface, small, black, shiny eyes looking at you before taking a bite of the algae.

leehan snickered and grabbed your chin, eyes locking with you.

“only cuties like you” he grinned and moved his yellow and black scarf out of his face. then, he leaned closer and kissed you softly. even though his lips were cold, you felt warmth spreading through your body. you smiled into the kiss and pulled him even closer by the scarf. 

who would have thought that two days after the detention you’d gain the courage to ask him out. 

he pulled back slightly, first looking at your lips with a smirk and then back in your eyes.

“and humans. but only the grown grindylows and that one is still a baby” he grinned. and before you could even roll your eyes, he pulled your ravenclaw-colored hat down and covered half of your face. with a giggle, he pulled you closer.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm

[earthtooz]

x : DREAMS OF US :*+ﾟ

in which: you bring a little faith in promises back to itoshi rin.

warnings: 600+ wc, fluff, talks of moving in together, gn!reader who is in uni, rin is a pro (?) soccer player.

a/n: PHEWWW when was my last itoshi rin fic? been a while :> i have another rin (but it might turn into a reo fic tbh) fic and a sae fic in the works <3 this is my new year gift to you all. returning to our blue lock era for 2025!

Itoshi Rin doesn’t believe in shared goals, shared ambitions, shared dreams. 

He did, at some point, and it came crashing down on him like a snowstorm. He still remembers the snow, the frost permeating his bones as his older brother left him behind in a cold field, a once-treasured dream now in pieces. 

Since then, he hasn’t really wanted to accomplish anything with anyone else.

“It’s snowing.”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts. Rin looks up from the cup of coffee he was stirring, thoroughly dissolving the spoon of sugar he just added. His teal eyes find you sitting at his kitchen bench, laptop and papers forgotten so you can admire the tiny snowflakes beginning to fall with a fascinated gleam in your eyes.

It warms him. You ignite a part of him he thought was snuffed out years ago.

“It is,” he says, rounding around the kitchen counter to give you your mug of coffee, made exactly to your tastes. 

“Thank you,” you smile up at him. He leans down to kiss your temple, pressing his lips firmly against your skin so you can’t forget the depths of his adoration. 

The professional soccer player only then notices what you were looking at on your laptop.

“Two bedroom apartments in Tokyo?” Rin reads out loud, even squinting at your screen to make sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “Are you moving out?”

You’re not meeting his eyes, shrinking into the comfortable fabric of Rin’s hoodie and he suddenly gets the impression that he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. “Something like that,” you murmur into the mug.

“Two bedrooms? Are you going to move in with someone?” 

There’s a tight knot in Rin’s chest. Why couldn’t you just move in with him? 

“I, uh, was supposed to ask you this later but… would you like to move in with me?”

His eyes widen, mouth falling slightly agape as he stares down at you, and now you get the feeling that you’ve asked something you weren’t supposed to. Maybe almost two years of dating wasn’t enough time for the question to be asked, and now you just feel like an idiot-

Rin shakes his head, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Dumbass, you basically live here.”

You straighten your spine, a telltale sign that you’re about to rebut whatever he’s just said.

“Whatever! You were talking about finding a new apartment closer to central Tokyo, I thought this was the perfect opportunity for us,” you defend. “It is a bit expensive, though.”

“I earn enough. We can find a place close to the train station, you can get to work and university easier,” he suggests, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his torso. “Why are you looking at two bedrooms?”

“We can have a dedicated study. I can’t sleep sometimes when you’re watching your recorded matches in bed, y’know.”

Rin snorts. “Right. Can’t sleep so you drool on me.”

You punch his shoulder, and he doesn’t even react, eyes trained on your laptop screen as he scrolls through potential housing options. From where your face is pressed against his sternum, you murmur, “I like your current apartment, though, I like the wide windows, I can see the snow.”

“You can enjoy it until my lease is done. We can hunt for an apartment with wide windows until then so you don’t miss the snowfall.”

“‘Kay,” you murmur contentedly. “This can be our shared dream, then.”

And it’s funny, because Rin hasn’t heard that term in a long time. Every dream of his, he’s done alone. He hasn’t ‘shared’ a dream with anyone since Sae, and that came crumbling down in the blink of an eye. If he can’t trust his older brother to keep his word, then who can he trust?

However, you’re snug in his arms, in his hoodie, in his apartment, and a silent promise hangs in the air, and he realises now that with every dream of his, he has always imagined you to be a part of it.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[verysium]

This is such crack brain fart idea 😶

What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:

“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”

Have you seen those TikToks???

If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want

HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:

sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)

rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.

kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)

isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.

ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.

shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.

nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.

reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.

ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it already!

Warnings: mentions of divorced parents, sister lives w/ Reader, awkwardness, cliff-hanger but not that big of a deal tbh so soz anyways

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

"Kaia! You're going to be late!" You yelled from the kitchen, your voice echoing through the hallway.

You hurriedly placed sandwiches into a fresh sandwich bag and then slipped it into her college bag.

"Okay, okay. Can you chill?" Kaia's voice, slightly muffled, floated down from the end of the corridor. You rolled your eyes, placing her water bottle next to her bag with a practiced sigh.

"No, I can't. You can't be late again, they've already sent two letters home about your attendance." Your tone was firm but laced with a hint of concern.

"For being 10 minutes late? Bit extra," she retorted as she finally appeared, her hair still slightly tousled from sleep.

"No, for always missing your first class even though I always wake you up on time," you countered, a frown creasing your forehead.

"So?" Your sister shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

"So, if you get kicked out, you have to live with Mom or Dad. You know the deal." Your voice softened a bit, hoping the reminder would make her see reason.

"Fine, fine. I'm going." She sighed heavily, zipping up her jacket with a dramatic flair and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You stopped her at the door, walking over to the far counter. She turned back to you with a very loud, exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Water bottle." You tossed it to her, which she caught mid-air, before she turned to leave.

"And make sure you go to-" Slam. You winced at the sound of the door shutting so harshly, the finality of it echoing through the flat. Your shoulders slumped.

"Class," you finished lamely, the word hanging in the air.

"Why am I a mom before I'm a mom?" You mumbled to yourself, rubbing your forehead in frustration.

You slid your phone off the counter, texting your dad a quick update that your sister just left. You'd let it slip about her attendance letters the last time you spoke, and now it was a regular point of concern.

A quick 'good' and thumbs up emoji followed seconds later.

Your eyes flickered over to the clock hung on the wall, noting there was a measly half-hour left until you were due at work.

Luckily, the office was barely a ten-minute walk from your flat. You packed your bag at a steady pace, making sure you had everything you needed. As you descended the stairs to the ground level of your complex, you waved to a few of your neighbors, all of them scurrying off with their children to avoid being late for school.

Some things never change.

...

You juggled a stack of papers that Lee had handed you right at the front entrance.

You eventually approached your office but with your keys clutched awkwardly in your other hand, and your bag precariously draped on your shoulder but now threatening to slip off, you fumbled to fit the correct one into the lock.

The papers teetered on the brink of tumbling from your grasp, prompting a flash of irritation to cross your face.

Just as you were about to lose your grip on them entirely, Curtis appeared at your side. "Need a hand with that?" he asked, his accented voice made him sound friendly and slightly amused.

You looked up, relief washing over you. "Yes, please."

He took the stack of papers from you, his easy smile making the moment feel less chaotic. With your hands free, you managed to unlock the door with ease.

"Thanks, Curtis. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem at all," he replied, plopping the papers onto your desk with a subtle thud.

"So, who'd you piss off?" he asked, pointing his chin at the stack of papers.

You chuckled, dropping your bag by your desk and draping your cardigan over your chair. "I haven't a clue, probably God."

He laughed, turning his shoulder to the door. "Are you coming down to the canteen for breakfast?"

You paused, considering the invitation. "What's on the menu?" You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, powering on your computer.

Curtis grinned. "Just about everything. You name it, they’ve got it."

You smiled, the tension from moments ago melting away. "Sounds tempting. I'll be down in a bit."

Curtis nodded and exited swiftly, leaving you with a sense of belonging. You'd been most worried about fitting in, about getting along with the players beyond mere professional courtesy. If you were going to be working with them for the next few years, building friendships was essential to you.

And maybe skipping breakfast wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You made your way down the stairs for the second time today, smiling to a few familiar faces as you walked to the canteen.

There was a black board right out front, with the times for breakfast and lunch clearly displayed on it.

Your phone buzzed just before you entered. It was a message with a photo attachment from your sister.

You quickly opened the notification, letting the picture download. A ghost of a smile touched your lips as you rolled your eyes; it was a picture of her iPad showing a class presentation, with her classmates surrounding her.

You typed a brisk response before locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket.

Inside, there weren’t as many people as you’d expected. An equal mix of staff and players, some recognisable and some not.

Those you did recognise were engrossed in their conversations, laughing, smiling, some serious - a mixture of emotions painted on everyone’s faces.

It was refreshing to see something other than an email inbox for the first part of your day.

But there was one person’s emotions you couldn’t quite understand.

His back was facing you, but after staring at it during most of your confrontation a few days ago, it was clear as day as to who was standing at the front of the canteen.

You wrestled with your thoughts, weighing the pros and cons of approaching him. Mostly cons, if not all, but you couldn’t build true relationships with the players if you shied away all the time.

Crossing the floor, you grabbed a plate from the stack at the beginning of the serving line. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at his body language; you were a psychologist, after all.

His tense shoulders and slightly furrowed brow told you he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but you pressed on.

Maybe it was just his resting face?

“Morning, Trent,” you greeted him with a smile, trying to keep your tone friendly.

He glanced at you briefly, unsurprised by your presence, likely having noticed you long before you approached.

“Psychologist,” he muttered, not making eye contact as he focused on the food in front of him.

“I must say, I admire your professionalism,” you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood, though the ensuing awkward silence made you regret your attempt.

“Any plans today?” You ventured.

“Training,” came his curt reply.

“Routine must be comforting,” You remarked, trying to maintain a conversational tone.

“Why are you talking to me?” he abruptly stopped in his tracks, his tone sharp.

You were fortunate to notice his halt in movement, otherwise you could’ve bumped into him if you hadn’t.

But judging by his build, you doubted even a nudge would’ve stirred him. His cold stare bore into yours, and you fought to maintain composure.

"Because I think you're a great conversationalist," you said with a smile. He paused briefly, rolled his eyes, then slid his plate off the tray rail and walked away.

A faint chuckle escaped you as you watched Trent walk away, his expression guarded. Sighing inwardly, you turned back to the serving line, reaching for a piece of toast with a mix of amusement and resignation.

One of the canteen ladies, her silver hair neatly pinned back and wearing a crisp white apron over her uniform, approached you with a knowing smirk.

Her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she leaned closer. “Wow, haven’t heard a conversation that awkward since my first double date in ’97.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for her light-hearted approach. “Yeah, it was pretty rough, wasn’t it?”

You let a brief moment of silence pass before you continued.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.

Carol, as she introduced herself, took your hand with a firm shake. Her affable demeanour was a stark contrast to Trent’s disinterested reception, one you welcomed.

“Ah, the young psychologist. Lee’s mentioned you a wee bit. I’m Carol. Been working here since the beginning of time, or so it feels.”

“You look as young as me,” you complimented with a smile, noticing the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“Oh, stop it,” Carol chuckled softly, waving off your compliment. “How are you finding it here?”

You shrugged in response, glancing around the canteen before meeting her gaze again. “You really want to ask me that after what you’ve just overheard?”

Carol nudged your shoulder playfully. “I’ve heard worse back in my day. What’s happened between yous two?”

“Nothing,” you reassured her quickly. “He’s still getting used to me being around.”

“Well, if he’s anything like the Trent I know, he’ll come around at one point, just keep pissing him off,” Carol joked cordially, her voice carrying a touch of wisdom.

You nodded with a bright smile, tilting your head. “Yes, ma’am.”

…

As you sat in your small office, you locked your phone after messaging your sister to warm up dinner for herself, knowing you’d be home late.

Your mind wandered again - to your family, to your work, to him.

The glow of your laptop screen illuminated the dimly lit room. You had been poring over articles for what felt like hours, hoping to uncover more about him than he had revealed to you personally.

You had always found the internet to be your greatest ally when working with clients, especially world-famous athletes.

You wanted to delve deeper into understanding the anomaly that was Trent Alexander-Arnold, to move beyond your brief and often contentious interactions.

With a few clicks, you eventually navigated to interviews featuring him.

The first video showed him discussing mental health in football, a topic he approached with surprising openness. His words were measured yet sincere, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with what you had witnessed so far.

“I guess I’m not as trusting as some of the other guys on the team,” Trent admitted on screen, his gaze sincere as he spoke directly to the interviewer’s camera. “I’ve never been comfortable sharing my personal issues, outside of my family. There’s always a fear of judgment.”

You watched intently, feeling a pang of empathy as Trent’s words resonated with you. It was as if he was sitting right in front of you, confiding in you directly.

In another interview, Trent discussed the pressures of fame and the struggle to balance his private life with the demands of professional football.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he spoke, revealing glimpses of a man grappling with expectations far beyond his years.

As you paused the video to let his words sink in, Trent’s earlier rebuke echoed in your mind.

“Don’t expect me to pour my heart out to some stranger. Especially on someone else’s schedule.”

Then suddenly, a light bulb went off in your mind as you rattled through all the different strategies you were taught at university.

You realised that perhaps your approach with Trent had been too clinical, too focused on schedules and protocols.

Without hesitation, you opened your email and addressed a message to both Arne and Lee.

Your fingers tapped out a request, concise yet loaded with implications that only you understood fully.

For now.

…

Part 3

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx

[winternightswren]

From Under The Desk

JaycexFem!Reader

Modern College AU

You have a paper due at midnight. A very important one. You absolutely CANNOT afford to be distracted.

Jayce distracts you.

Warnings: 18+ (this is basically just smut without plot tbh.) Reader is AFAB. Oral sex, cunnilingus, descriptions of genitalia. Small age gap? Like, only a year or two. Does that count? Idk let me know if i missed something <3

You scrubbed a hand across your face, exhaustion tugging at your eyes. It wasn't actually that late- it was only about seven pm. But, you'd stayed up all of last night writing this damned paper, only to go and spend a full day in class afterwards. And now here you were, hunched over your desk like a vulture pecking at your keyboard.

Getting the words down was the easy part. It was making them make sense that made your brain hurt. The amount of words you'd back-spaced over was probably comparable to the ones you'd actually kept.

You took a swig of your energy drink, wincing as the carbonation hit the back of your throat. You don't know why you bothered honestly; it wasn't doing anything for you at this point.

It was then that you heard the lock on the front door click, and the telltale shuffling sounds of someone entering your tiny apartment.

"I'm home!"

You heard Jayce's muffled voice through your bedroom door, but you made no effort to tear your attention away from your computer screen.

"Hon?" You heard him call again, "You home?"

More shuffling. Then, he knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Hon?" He repeated.

"Hey," you said automatically, fingers still flying across your keyboard.

"Hey, you." You could hear the smile in his voice, and it made your stomach flutter a little. "I picked up some takeout for dinner- I even got those little crab rangoons you love."

In your head, you meant to say something like, 'Wow! Thank you, my love. Im so excited to eat my favorite food with you!' But you didn't, leaving only an awkward pause in the back and forth you could barely call a conversation. You scrolled back to the top of your paper to re-read it, skimming for mistakes. Ah- there's a typo here. It should be "perceived", not-

"Hey, are you okay? Did you hear me?"

"What?" You bristled a little bit, annoyed to have been interrupted. You finally turned around to acknowledge him, trying to hide your chagrin. "Oh...sorry. Um, thank you. That was thoughtful."

It had taken a moment to force your eyes to focus on him, after staring at a bright screen for so long. When they did, you found he looked significantly more chipper than you felt. That made sense, you supposed. He had been freed from the confines of student life already, no longer bogged down by trivial things like homework and exams. Lucky bastard.

His eyes grazed across your face, then the rest of your body- and stopped when he found something interesting.

"You're wearing my hoodie,". He said. Irritation clawed at your stomach, and you swallowed the 'so what?' rising in your throat. You really just wanted to get back to work.

"It's comfy," you said instead, shrugging. "Sorry. I hoped you wouldn't mind. Do you want it back?" He shook his head, starting towards you.

"No, it looks good on you. Keep it on." He leaned down to peck you on the cheek, and you smiled tiredly at him. His hair was slightly tousled from a long day at work, and his chiseled cheekbones were smeared with grease. His cologne was mixed with the smell of coal and something vaguely chemical. Truthfully, what you really wanted was to yank off the hoodie, and his clothes too, and pull him into the shower with you- but there was no time for that now. You swiveled your chair around again, going back to your work.

"Im sorry," you said, "This paper is due in a couple of hours and I need to get it done. You should go ahead and eat if you're hungry. You don't have to wait. And please take a shower."

"What?" He teased, "You don't like the smell of hydraulic fluid?" He wrapped his arms around you and dropped his chin on top of your head. You found it difficult to keep yourself upright under his immense weight.

"No, I don't," you huffed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to focus on this. But once I'm done, I'm yours for the rest of the night, okay?"

The weight was lifted as he moved away from you, chuckling. "Alright, Alright. I'll leave you to it. God, it's kinda hot when you're mean to me. Maybe you should do that more often."

You swatted his arm, staring incredulously, and he ducked away as he laughed again. "I'm not being mean to you. I thought I was being pretty polite all things considered."

"You are mean to me," he whined. "You wont even let me give you my love and attentioonnn." He gave you fake puppy dog eyes, and you snatched a pencil off your desk, holding it up like you were going to chuck it at him.

"Get out," you warned. He held up his hands in surrender and backed out the door, eyes full of mirth.

"I bet you'd be nicer to me if you ate something."

You threw the pencil as hard as you could, but he shut the door before it reached him, and it bounced off the wood instead. You heard him cackling on the other side, before you heard his heavy footsteps move away.

You huffed, running your fingers through your hair. It was greasy, and in need of a good combing-through. You hadn't really had time for a shower yourself; but it could wait a little longer. You went back to your pecking.

Too soon, you heard the bedroom door open again. "Back already?" You asked mechanically.

"Already?" He repeated. "It's been like an hour." You glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of your screen. He was right. You'd been so focused that you didn't realize how long it had been.

"Whoops." You still didn't cease your typing.

You felt his weight upon you the same as before, forcing a wheeze from your lungs. "Why are you so heavy?" You huffed.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations against your back. The two of you stayed there like that for a moment, and you rubbed your eyes again. His warmth was comforting, and dangerously cozy. You were going to fall asleep at this rate. You shrugged, trying to get him to move off of you- but he didn't budge. Instead, he pressed his face into your neck, and his hair tickled your cheek. It was still damp, and you could smell his shampoo- like mint, and something darker, more earthy. You tilted your head to kiss the top of his own, breathing in the scent; but never taking your eyes away from your computer.

"Your food's getting cold, love." His breath tickled your skin, giving you butterflies again. "You should come eat something. You'll feel better."

"Can't," you muttered. Even if you wanted to, the caffeine you'd been chugging all day dampened your appetite, despite your empty stomach. He was probably right, but if you stopped now, you might not be able to start again. You had to capitalize on your focus; you couldn't afford to lose it.

Jayce brushed his lips against your jaw, pressing little kisses into the bone, and down your neck. He trailed a hand down your arm, the one opposite to him, and slipped it across your thigh, into the space between your legs-

'What do you think you're doing?" He stood up straight, taking his hand back. You glared at him, half annoyed, and half aroused. It was only now that you realized he wasn't wearing a shirt- just a pair of sweatpants that accentuated his girth in just the right way. You could see every muscle he worked so hard to build on full display, and your breath hitched. His tanned skin was just as damp as his hair, still shining with water. You wondered if he'd even bothered to dry off when he got out of the shower.

"I'm sorry. I can stop if you really want me to," he said gently. He looked down at you with something on his face you couldn't quite read. He wasn't frowning, nor smiling. His eyebrows were quirked upward just slightly, eyes half lidded. His expression was somewhere between lust and fatigue, you decided. Maybe he'd had a long day, too.

You blinked, trying to keep your eyes open. Maybe you didn't want him to stop- but you had to get this done if you had any hope of graduating next semester. You couldn't afford to fail this class. You looked away from him, feeling torn. In the corner of your eye, you watched him kneel beside you, and felt the weight of his head in your lap. He slid his hands around your waist, one of them between you and the back of your chair, and the other across your lap.

"You don't have to stop," you said quietly. "But I can't, either. This is important."

"Is that what you want though? For me to keep going, I mean?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "I do. I just need you to understand that I'm not ignoring you to be mean; I don't want to hurt your feelings because I'm not being an active participant."

He lifted his head, shifting himself between your legs. He had to duck and curl himself up awkwardly to fit himself underneath your desk- it was kind of cute, actually, watching him trying to fit his giant shoulders and long legs into such a tight space.

"I don't think that at all," he said when he was finally comfortable. "I know this it's important to you." He slid his hands up your thighs, letting one of his thumbs land on the spot where he knew your clit to be. He stroked it gently through the fabric of your pants, and you bit your lip to stop the gasp trapped in your throat. His other hand grasped your hip, massaging the soft malleable flesh of your curves with his thumb. He rested his cheek on your knee, looking up at you lovingly.

"You just seem so stressed," he said. "I wanna help you relax." He punctuated his words by swiveling his hand around, sliding his fingers under the curve of your pelvis. Well, 'relaxed' isn't the word you would use to describe yourself right now. A coil had wound itself inside your stomach, and your legs were tense with anticipation. In his hands, you were putty. You couldn't think straight anymore. You tried to focus, tried to keep your eyes on the prize. You were almost done here. Just a couple more paragraphs to go, and then you could-

"Oh-" you gasped involuntarily, something girlish and high pitched. Your face burned with embarrassment- you'd never made a noise like that before. But you couldn't help it- not with the way he was sliding his fingers into you now. You hadn't even realized he had managed to tug your pants down enough to expose you to him.

His other hand, previously on your hip, had slid up your sweater. It was on the small of your back now, pressing you forward. He drew his fingers out of you, slowly, and you bucked your hip forwards with a groan. He was moving so, so slowly. He was being so gentle and sweet, you thought your teeth were going to rot and fall out of your skull. He leaned forward, kissing your stomach, moving down to the side- to your hip, in the crease of your skin where your pelvis met your thigh. You shivered; his lips brushed you so lightly it tickled a bit. Your fingertips buzzed with electricity as you tried to keep typing. But then you felt his tongue sliding between your folds and you couldn't do it anymore.

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting him finally overtake your thoughts completely. You buried your face in your hands, trying to control your ragged breathing as he moved his tongue up, and down, slowly, gently. He pushed his tongue inside of you, lapping at you like he hadn't had a drop to drink in days. You whined, sliding a hand under the desk to grab his hair, to bring him closer to you. You could hear him panting, feel his breath against your pubic mound. His movements grew more desperate at your touch, ever eager to please.

You laid your other arm on the table, resting your head on it like a pillow. You really couldn't stop the sounds escaping from you now. Every gasp, moan, and whimper from you only seemed to further spur him, urging him to move faster. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue, reaching as far inside of you as he could manage, and moving back up to lick tiny circles around your clit.

You moved your hips with his rhythm, desperate for more friction as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge. "Jayce," you whispered shakily, "I-I'm really- mmmfh- close-"

He didn't let up even a little bit, even when you leaned back, pushing his head against you so hard you were worried he'd suffocate. You were almost blinded by pleasure, the coil winding itself tighter and tighter- until it finally snapped.

You cried out his name like a prayer, over and over again as you shook. You clamped your thighs around his ears, wrapping your legs together over his shoulders. You tugged on his hair like it was a lifeline, feeling every crashing tidal wave of your orgasm in full force as your back arched away from your chair. You practically sobbed, your eyes watering. You couldn't help it. It was so good.

He finally stopped when he sensed you'd had enough, slumping in your chair like a rag doll as exhaustion racked your brain through the afterglow. He pulled back, his face shiny with spit and slick. You smiled at him, before letting your head flop back as you closed your eyes.

'That was hot," he whispered. You snorted, not opening your eyes. You felt his fingers brush your skin as he pulled your pants back up, and shivered slightly when the cold wet fabric of your underwear met your overly-sensitive groin. You pressed your toes against the floor to push your chair from under the table so he'd have room to get out.

"That didn't take very long, either" he teased. "You must have been pretty pent up." You heard shuffling as he stood, and you finally opened your eyes when you felt his lips brush against your forehead. You flicked his shoulder.

"You're just good at what you do."

He smiled, his eyes flickering across your face. You reached up to rub your thumb across his chin, trying to wipe off some of the remaining fluids. He grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss into your palm before you could withdraw it, never taking his eyes off of you.

"Come eat something, please," he whispered. You sighed and glanced at the clock again, considering it- it was almost 9:15. There was still time.

"Alright, alright," you resigned. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be right there."

Jayce made a face you couldn't discern, and let go of your hand. "Okay," he said, and stepped out of the room.

He came back ten minutes later to find you still at your computer. "I couldn't wait any longer," he said- making you jump.

"Augh, I'm sorry, Jayce," you said- and you meant it.

"It's okay," he shrugged, "I had a feeling this might happen. You get so sucked in sometimes. It's endearing, actually."

He set two styrofoam boxes next to you, and opened another for himself. "I thought I would just bring dinner in here. Maybe I could help you edit? Make things go a little faster so we can get you in the shower?" He smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was lodged into the corner of the room, with the desk beside it like an oversized nightstand. There'd be no room to move about, otherwise.

You cracked open the first box, choosing to ignore his quip, and your mouth watered at the sight of your favorite food inside. Ugh, even cold it smelled amazing. You shoveled it into your face with the flimsy plastic fork, newfound hunger making itself evident. You looked to Jayce, intending to thank him for the meal; but you found he was looking at you expectantly.

'What?" You asked through a mouthful of food.

"Did you want my help?"

Oh.

You swallowed.

"Sorry. Um, yes. That might be nice honestly. I could use a break."

He set his food aside, chuckling. "The first one wasn't enough?" He teased. You scowled, only pretending to be upset.

"Whatever man. Switch me places." You stood up to give him your chair, and he complied- though he had to pull the lever under the seat to lower it, to make room for his mile-long legs.

"Alright, let's see, here..."He squinted as he read your work, and you took the opportunity to admire him. God, he really was incredibly handsome. His long, calloused fingers looked enormous over your keyboard compared to your own. His bulky shoulders hunched forward, pulling the skin of his back taught over his muscles. You bit your lip, feeling your arousal coming back through your fatigue. He glanced at you, and you blushed when you caught him staring; as if you hadn't been together long enough by now that this wasn't embarrassing. But he still never failed to give you the warm-and-fuzzies so to speak. He smiled, laughing through his nose.

"What're you looking at?"

You twirled your hair with exaggeration. "Oh, yknow. Just this cute guy I have a crush on, or whatever," you flirted. He rolled his eyes, still grinning to himself.

"Eat your food, dork." He looked back to the screen, and you did what you were told.

It didn't take long. You wolfed down your dinner so fast you even surprised yourself. You stood to collect your trash, and kissed the top of Jayce's head before heading to the kitchen to dispose of it properly. When you came back, he was already standing up to stretch.

"It looks good to me," he said- with his arms over his head, his obliques were in full view and it made you just about weak in the knees. "I think it's ready to submit, if you're happy with it."

You thought about re-reading it one more time- just to be sure- but your brain was so foggy with exhaustion (and maybe some arousal). You trusted Jayce's judgement, too. He'd graduated summa cum laude last year, after all. You were sure he knew what he was talking about.

"Thank you, love. I really appreciate your help." You patted his chest with a weary smile, and sat down to submit it. When you were finally able to click your laptop shut, you were just about to collapse. You looked over to find Jayce already waiting for you in bed, and he opened his arms for you.

"C'mere, you," he crooned softly. You complied, shutting off the table lamp before you crawled across the blankets to meet him. He pulled them over the two of you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of mint and clean bedsheets. You suddenly felt self conscious, remembering you had forgotten to bathe.

You sat up. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick actually-" but he yanked you back down before you could move, burying his nose in your hair.

"Nooooo," he mumbled. "Stay with me."

"Jaaaayce," you whined, "I smell terrible. Wouldn't you rather I got cleaned up before bed?"

He didn't move, keeping you pinned between his arms. "Mmm, girl stink."

"You- what?" You sputtered, laughing at the absurdity. You tried to move, but he was already snoring softly. You couldn't tell if he was faking it or not, but you gave in anyway. You tangled your legs with his, letting his warmth overtake you and carry you to sleep at last.

[gogandmagog]

I know it’s so obvious that I love Anne and Gilbert, but tbh I might just love them best of all when they’re long married. Of course there’s all the very sweet stuff. Of course there’s that. But then… there’s the funny stuff too.

I was looking for something specific in the later books just now, and instead got distracted by a few tiny moments… Ingleside always has me laughing when Mrs Brooker Shaw (according to Susan) calls Gilbert to her house one blizzardy afternoon, feigning illness in order to apparently show off her new lace nightgown – and when Gilbert returns home later than he expected, Anne teases, “No doubt the new lace nightgown was very attractive 😏,” and poor Doctor Blythe is all ????? But then also the time in Rainbow Valley that they lock themselves out of their own house one night, and Gilbert has to stage a break-in through a kitchen window, and Susan ends up twisting her ankle because she heard it all going down, and thought it was a real robber. Or Anne’s outright rejecting of Gilbert’s medical paper/colleagues argot; "Don't quote that horrible Von Bemburg to me. He must have a bad case of chronic indigestion. He may be a concatenation of atoms, but I am not…” Or the way Anne gets annoyed when she feels Gilbert isn’t taking one of their children’s little illnesses seriously enough (rashes, green apples causing irritable bellies), and then she ends up just as annoyed with herself when it turns out he was right (every! single! time!). Just… 🥹🥹🥹 lol.