#rumple might not even be a raven

[notonlymice]

rumbelle + the raven king (a french fairytale) au moodboard

[lillaluna]

Hi!! :) Congratulations on your 100 followers! I just found your blog thanks to your pantalone tag and like your stuff! Can I request Pantalone please? 23. “I might have slept with your shirt while you were gone.” (reader saying it) feel free to do a normal or spicy/adult version as you wish :))

Hi, thank you so much, it's my pleasure as I really like Pantalone too!

Pairing: Pantalone x f!Reader

That evening, Pantalone crossed the threshold of his room in his mansion after a long absence, noticeably disposed to take a break from the fuss he was going through on his trip.

Throwing his travelling cloak on the back of a chair, which showed his affiliation with the Fatui organisation in the best possible way. Pantalone pulled the elastic band from his hair with a soft but precise movement. The raven-coloured hair fell silently down the Harbinger's back, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction for only a moment.

Pantalone was a self-confident man, whose confidence was already disgusted by his every move. Businesslike and always tired of the continuous race for success, he rarely stopped for a while to rest and enjoy the moment. And such a moment was right now…

Hoping to spend a quiet evening unbuttoning his clothes, Pantalone headed for the closet. Opening it, the man's eyes fell on an empty hanger where his favorite shirt used to be. His heart began to beat with an incomprehensible force.

"How is this possible?" thought Pantalone, he had always sincerely and deservedly considered himself a pedantic man. He remembered exactly where he had left this or that thing, so this situation at least surprised him.

Turning away from the closet, Pantalone looked around his room. Everything was as it always was, except for the slightly rumpled bed and something lying on the blanket.

The Harbinger's heart beat faster when he realized that someone had been in his room in his absence. He decided to check, and his fears turned out to be based on the harshest reality. When he got to his bed, he realized that the shirt he hadn't found in the closet was lying on it.

As if sensing with a sixth sense that the situation in the room had changed, Pantalone heard a soft laugh, which sent a wave of warmth through his entire body, which was still unusual for him. The dark-haired man turned and his gaze fell on you standing in the doorway with a shy smile on your face.

"Hello," you said with a soft laugh, but your excitement betrayed how timidly you were shifting from one foot to the other. "You're probably surprised that I'm here?"

Pantalone remained motionless, his eyes never leaving you. He was amazed that you were so violating his understanding of the norms and boundaries of relationships. His face expressed mixed feelings, amazement and admiration. You were a man who violated all his usual boundaries and standards, but Pantalone was captivated by your individualism and ability to live by your own rules. You destroyed his ideas of what a relationship should be, but at the same time you filled his world with brilliant colors and new opportunities.

"Yes, I'm surprised," Pantalone finally said in a surprisingly calm tone that didn't match what was going on inside him. "Did I miss something?" the man asked, glancing at his shirt lying on the bed, and then returning to you.

You smiled even wider, and the Harbinger couldn't take his eyes off your beautiful face.

"Well, I… I might have slept with your shirt while you were gone," you admitted, seemingly apologizing for your actions. For all your spontaneity, you understood that not everyone might like such an action. "She smells like you, and it helps me feel your presence when you're not around."

Pantalone just stared at you in silence, experiencing the many emotions that pierced him. Something new and incomprehensible arose in his soul – a feeling for a girl born in his absence, when his charming half admitted that she had pulled off his shirt and slept in it during his absence.

"I do not know how to react to this," Pantalone admitted, trying to cope with the seething emotions. It was so new to him, completely incomprehensible, and just as pleasant. Wavering between joy and fear, these new feelings they seemed so light and gentle, but the fearless Harbinger was also afraid that he might lose what he had just begun to feel. "But to be honest, the thought makes my heart flutter."

You entered the room and walked up to Pantalone from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist. Your touch was light and comforting. Together you stood there, breathing slowly, enjoying a moment of calm and intimacy.

"I was afraid you'd get angry. I understand that this may seem strange to you," you whispered, clinging to the back of the dark-haired man. "But this is probably my most honest way to show that you are special to me."

Pantalone finally smiled. His thin cool fingers found your small palms on his torso and he covered them with his hands.

"Angry? How can I be angry when you give me such a wonderful gift?" The Harbinger said softly, gently stroking your hands and listening to how you breathe. "Nothing can replace personal presence," Pantalone continued, "and if you're comfortable sleeping in my shirt, then I'm glad it fills that gap when I'm not here."

[turnipstewdios]

Half-Lives: Chapter 2

Read here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48120073/chapters/121402672

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Best burgers in Gotham!”

Danny suspected his new friend was enjoying the look on his face a little too much. And to be fair, Jason would know better than Danny would. He did live here. He shouldn’t be this skeptical, given his favorite place to eat back home. Tourists in Amity had been a bit put off by a place literally called “The Nasty Burger” but it had been the best spot in town. So this shouldn’t be so weird. But…

“Do they all wear costumes?” “Yup!” Because yeah. The cashier was wearing tights. And a cape. And a rumpled looking domino mask held on with a string. “Which robin is that even supposed to be?” Because Danny wasn’t super familiar with the difference between the local vigilante’s costumes, but this didn't really look like any of the pictures he’d seen.

Jason looked slightly less gleeful at that. “Honestly… not sure.” he was squinting in the window at the register now. “Kinda looks like the first robin, but I think those are supposed to be Red Robin’s bandoliers.” “Why on earth does this city have a Batman themed fast food restaurant?”

“Why on earth not?” Jason shrugged. “Come on, I’m starving.” Danny followed him inside, and then quietly reaffirmed his decision not to look into fast food jobs  when the cashier grimaced, visibly braced himself, and asked if he could take their bat-order in the most horrifyingly cheerful voice he’d ever heard. He frequently talked to dead people who sounded more alive. I’m already dead. Don’t think I could handle being soulless too.

“Hi Benny!” Jason walked up to the counter like he came here daily. Which he might, for all Danny knew. They were only a few blocks from the roof he’d met him on, and he probably lived there. “Rough night?”

“Hi Jason.” The cashier, Benny apparently, looked slightly less strained when he walked over. “Not really. It’s been slower than usual.” “Yeah, it has, hasn’t it?” Jason looked almost put out at that. “The usual?” Benny was already moving to type something in on the register. “Yeah please. What do you want, Danny?” “Erm…” Danny scanned the menu briefly, and ordered the first thing that looked good. Then paused as his stomach complained again, and ordered a second burger and extra fries as well. And maybe also a hand pie.

He started to pull out his wallet, but promptly got distracted by the sight of the fry-cook in the back wearing a Batman costume. Which looked stupid. And so miserably hot. Why? What was even the point? By the time he looked back at the register, Jason had paid for both of their orders while he wasn’t looking. “Hey hey woah, dude, I can pay for mine, you don’t have to get that!” “Nah, I got it.” Which was just, so not ok! Danny had ordered a ton of food, and Jason lived in Crime Alley! He probably wasn’t all that well off, and he definitely shouldn’t be paying for a ravenous half ghost stranger's food! “Hey relax man, I mean it. It’s no big deal.” “No big-? Do you normally feed trespassers you catch on your roof in the middle of the night?” Jason paused for a moment. Then, seeming to make some sort of decision, grinned roguishly at Danny while he grabbed a cup. “Nah, only the cute ones.” And walked away towards the drink fountain while Danny blue-screened. Oh. Oh no. Hot guy flirting. Danny was so screwed.

They filled up their cups at the fountain, (Danny was screaming internally just a little bit) and then Jason went to claim a corner booth to wait for their order. Danny realized that he had been completely distracted from the whole paying the bill thing. He should probably just go with it.

As they sat down, Danny took a moment to really look Jason over in the light of the restaurant. He was, just maybe, not quite as scary as he’d seemed on a dimly lit rooftop. He was still really big though. And looked like he might be able to bench press Danny a guy without straining. He had short black hair with a tuft of white hair in the front that almost looked too bright to be dyed, and really striking blue-green eyes. His clothes were plain, but sturdy looking and well made. His shirt was really tight. He looked great in combat boots.

He also felt like he might, maybe, be ecto-contaminated. It was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it was low enough that Danny hadn’t noticed anything until they’d shaken hands on the roof. Even then, it was hard to get a read on, and nowhere near enough to set off his ghost sense. If he’d met Jason in Amity, he didn’t think he’d have noticed at all. It was odd to find someone like that here though. There was plenty of ambient ectoplasm in the air in Gotham, but he hadn’t noticed any effect on the people who lived with it. Where would the guy even have come into contact with a high enough concentration of the stuff for it to leave a mark? He got broken out of his thoughts when Jason started the conversation up again.

“You must be really new in town if you haven't been to Batburger yet. When’d you move in?” “Ah, just over the weekend. Only got into my apartment Saturday.” “Mm, ok, yeah. You haven't had your’ first rogue attack yet then, huh? Nothing’s happened in weeks.”

“Uh, no. I haven't.” Danny would like to keep it that way, thanks. He’d had more than enough of constant attacks by malevolent entities in High School. He wanted to be able to sleep once in a while. “You been mugged yet?” Danny almost choked on a sip of his drink. “Who just asks that? Casually?” “A Gothamite.” Jason grinned at him from across the table. “Getting robbed or held at gunpoint or taken hostage by whoever broke out of Arkham this week is a right of passage.” Great. He should feel right at home then. “In all seriousness though, have you run into trouble yet? This city’s no joke, even when you know your way around.” Danny glanced down at the table. “I'm fine. I can handle it.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “Look, I know, ok? I’m not taking this lightly or being careless. I know I don’t look like it, but I can take care of myself.” He could. Not that he was about to explain the ghost powers to anybody. Gotham was a rough place, but Danny was a tough person. He’d had to be. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go anyway. Their order came up, and Danny waved Jason down while he got up to go grab it. He should take the opportunity to change the subject. The fewer questions got asked about where he was from, the better.

The food did actually smell really good. Carrying it back to the table reminded him how hungry he was. He hurriedly sat down, pulled his burger out of its greasy paper wrapping, and tore into it like… well like he hadn’t eaten in almost three days. It was good. Different from anything at the Nasty Burger, but it tasted great! Jason had also started eating, and the table was silent for a few minutes while they worked their way through the first burgers in the stack. _________________________________________ Danny ate like he hadn't seen food in a week. Watching him attack a hamburger like a rabid coyote would have been funny if it hadn’t been mildly concerning. Jason took a moment to think while they both ate, and tried to puzzle out why he felt so… off kilter. He kinda liked Danny. And that was part of the weird stuff. He’d barely even met him. Knew nothing about him. Jason was a crime lord and a vigilante, it paid to be suspicious of strangers. He shouldn’t be this open to liking the guy this soon. But, Danny felt… safe. Soothing almost. The nerves he’d been feeling all day had calmed down a bit.

He had also turned an adorable shade of red when Jason tried flirting. He’d wondered if he’d overstepped for a second, but it hadn't seen like he minded, just like he’d been caught off guard. (He had also definitely been checking Jason out on the way to the table.) Jason had still backed off a bit though. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if the attention wasn’t wanted.

His hand still felt cold where he had touched Danny’s skin. It’s still like 80 outside, how the fuck are his hands that cold?  Could he be a meta? Did he have ice powers or something? Jason had no idea, but something about the contact had felt hauntingly familiar. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about him. He danced around questions about where he was from in a way Jason had seen from way too many street kids. The possible lack of access to food and the worn-down clothes were also not good signs. Jason couldn’t see any obvious bruises or scrapes, but he thought he might have seen the edge of some scarring peeking out from under his shirt. Danny apparently did have an apartment, but the lack of AC probably meant it probably wasn’t the best place. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else living with him either, and Jason couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

Danny finally slowed down half way through his second burger, and Jason took the chance to ask another question. “You know anybody in Gotham?” Danny paused, chewing for a moment before swallowing. “No, not really.”

“No relatives or friends? University?” “Uh, no. My family’s still back west. And I’m not here for school.” “Work then?”

Danny chuckled a bit. “I’m actually looking for a job. Haven't been here long enough to get established yet.” Currently unemployed, but not homeless at least.  “How’re you affording the apartment while you look? You got a roommate?”

“Oh, no. I had some savings. It’s enough to pay rent for a few months, I just need to find work ASAP.”

All right, so he did have somewhat of a safety net for the moment. That was good. “What kind of jobs are you looking at?” “Uh, well. I don’t qualify for a whole lot. I was actually going to start with looking into delivery jobs. Just about all the restaurants in my neighborhood do takeout, somebody’s gotta be hiring.” He took another bite. Chewed. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll look for whatever. I haven't actually had a lot of time to think about it yet. You know anything in the area I could look into?” Ah. That, Jason might be able to help with. This was his turf. He knew it inside and out. “Hmm” He took a second to work on his fries while he thought about it. “Yeah I might.” There were a few places nearby that might legitimately be hiring. But there were also a few businesses in the Alley that would hire someone if Red Hood asked. He had used them before to get alley kids and folks down on their luck a job. The small business owners in the area couldn’t always afford to pay the help they needed, so in a few cases Jason had paid the wages himself. The business got new staff, a kid got off the streets, and Jason got to do something useful with Bruce’s money. “I think there’s a few places I know that might have positions open. I’d have to check though.” He took a sip of his drink to wash down the last of his fries, and rummaged around in his pocket for his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll send you some info on places you can check out.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “My number? For job recommendations?” The corner of his mouth tugged up a bit. “No other reason?” “Ha! Well,” Jason smiled back. “There might be another reason.” Danny grinned back, and pulled out his own phone. “Sure, I can do that.”

_________________________________________

It was still hot outside. Danny somehow managed to forget that until he stepped out the door of the restaurant. The un-conditioned air hit his face like he’d been slapped with a warm, damp towel. Why did it have to be so humid? Jason didn’t look particularly thrilled to be back outside either. At least they were both suffering.

Danny felt awkward again. “Hey, thanks for the food man. You really didn’t have to.”

“Again, no problem.” Jason pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started to light one. “It was nice chatting with somebody.”  He looked over at Danny for a moment. “You gonna be able to get home all right?” “Oh, yeah I should be fine. It’ll take me a bit but I know where I’m going.” He did. He’d looked up where the Batburger was so he could find his way back to the apartment. Jason puffed on his cigarette a bit. He looked concerned again. “How far away are you?” “Ah, a few miles?” “A few miles?” Alarmed now. “I thought you were out for a walk on the roofs!?” “I was?” “You traveled a few miles on the roofs!? What are you, a bat ?!” “Uh..” “Dude. You want a ride home? I’ve got a bike.” “Um, I’ll be fine. It really didn't take all that long to get here.” Jason dragged in a breath around his smoke and grumbled something too low and garbled for Danny to make out. It kinda sounded like he mentioned the bats again though. Let the breath back out. “You sure? I’ve got an extra helmet.” He started walking back down the street towards what Danny assumed was his apartment. “Nah, it’s fine. Really. I can get around. It’s kinda fun actually.” “You sound like my brother.” Jason sighed. “Fine.” He stuffed his phone and the box of cigarettes back in his pocket. “I’ll see if anyone I know is hiring and send you the details.” “That would be great man, thanks.” Danny smiled. “No pressure, I’m sure I can find something.” Danny looked up at the building as they approached it. “Could I use the stairs to get back on your roof again? _________________________________________ “Sure, why not.” Jason glanced over at him as they started climbing. He still wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just be insisting Danny let him drive him home. He kept saying he could take care of himself, but Jason wasn’t so confident. He opened the roof access door for the second time that night, and leaned up against the wall of the stairwell while Danny moved over towards the closest neighboring building. … “Hey, be careful. You’re not as likely to get mugged up here, but you can still run into people you don’t want to mess with.” “Oh, whaaat? But the last scary guy I talked to on a roof bought me dinner!” “You planning on making a habit of talking to scary guys on roofs?” “Nah,” Danny’s smile gained a smug teasing edge, and for a moment his teeth looked way to sharp. “Only the cute ones!”

Jason choked on a lungful of smoke. It only distracted him for a second, but when he looked back up, Danny was gone. Fuck. Really, really have to keep him away from Batman.

_________________________________________ Danny made it back to his apartment quickly and without incident. He probably shouldn't have disappeared like that, but he was still stifling low giggles over the face Jason had made when he'd turned around. It had been worth it. He phased in through his window, landed on his slightly creaky floor. And then stopped. He cursed, and smacked his palm into his face.   He'd forgotten to get a fan.  

[aimfor-theheart]

wolfwood office au but hes a new employee (and ex felon) and youre assigned to help the new hire

anon i love you this is so specific. have you been thinking about this for awhile or something.

office au

wolfwood x reader

cw: maybe like. potential workplace flirting. reader flusters easily and has glasses. reader referred to as "miss"

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

you adjust the glasses slipping down your nose, flicking through the paperwork on your desk. it's already a little rumpled somehow and you smooth it out carefully. your neat, french manicure gleams in the stark light from the window beside you. your cup of tea sits cooling beside your cup of adorably colored pens.

you read the filled in answers, written in messy scrawl, the ink bleeding across the page. there's a coffee stain in the corner. and—tobacco stains, maybe? a burnt orange dash of color near the bottom.

your eyes flit across the page.

you catch the checked box next to have you been convicted of a felony in the last five years? the little dash beside the yes stands out sharply for a moment.

carefully, you keep a neutral face and keep reading. there's no space to see what crime he may have committed and you certainly won't ask. it doesn't matter, anyways. he got the job, didn't he? and besides, before the felony, his resume is rather impressive. seems like he made some incredible deals—damn near a con man—

you shuffle through more of the papers. you'll have to file all of them.

a knock on the wall beside your desk.

you pick your head up to take in an unfamiliar man. tall and broad shouldered, all shaggy raven hair and olive brown skin. he's handsome in that roguish, wild way. he's in a suit, at least, sharp looking. his ears are pierced. some rings on the fingers that rapped against the wall to get your attention.

"i heard you're my new assistant."

your brows raise. he doesn't exactly look like what you imagined the new vice president of sales to look like, but here he is nonetheless. he's younger than you'd thought he'd be. but when he smiles, you could see how it might be smarmy enough for sales.

"nicholas?" you ask in response, rising from your desk to greet him with a handshake.

"nick's fine. i heard you could show me the ropes around here a little." and this time when he smiles, he really takes you in.

your hand is so small in his.

you don't know why but heat touches your face. you pull your hand away from his quickly and adjust your glasses again to look up at him. "alright, nick. it's—um, nice to meet you."

"nice to meet my next partner in crime, too."

you swallow. funny choice of words that—

"and—yes. i can do that—show you around, i mean. i'll help finish getting you onboarded."

he glances around at your desk area; the flourishing plants and the color-coded pens and cute mouse pad. everything is in its place. even the papers of his you'd been reading are laying neatly on your desk.

"you seem...organized." he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, wandering a little closer to your desk. "which is good—i'm no good at that shit."

you clear your throat, "that's what i'm here for." your eyes flick over him; the lopsided smile and the cursing and the faint smell of tobacco clinging to him. and a cologne—something muskier. amber. and tonka. it's not that he looks like an ex felon or doesn't—just that, he isn't exactly what you were expecting either way. "shall we?" you ask.

he inclines his head, gesturing for you to go first like some kind of faux-gentleman. "after you, miss."

you smile nervously and turn, "um—i guess i can start with the tour?"

"that the fastest way to get coffee around here?" he asks, trailing behind you, your massive shadow.

you peak over your shoulder at him, glasses slipping down your nose again, "um—you can just ask me too, if you want—the old vice president of sales asked all the time—"

"not gonna make you get my coffee. you'll be doing more important shit for me than that." he says casually, and his eyes lock with yours again.

you quickly duck away from his gaze, focusing ahead. you shove your glasses back up your nose.

"i like your glasses, by the way. cute frame. they fit you." he says easily.

heat smarts your face. you blink rapidly.

"uh—thank you, nicholas."

"nick's fine, miss."

"nick. right." you say, swallowing around the name, "thank you."

"i'm real excited to work with you—i think this is gonna be a great pairing."

and you don't turn around to see it, but you can practically imagine the smile in his voice. just on the wrong side of wolfish.

in another universe writing game!

[carousel-crows]

5. Slider and Goose set them up

Anything for you doomsday :)

Prompt #5: Set Up

cw: swearing, implied sex

——

“Sli, they did it again.”

“Oh god. At least let me get drunk first.”

“It was like a full-ass eyefuck, too. Ice was all up in his face ‘n shit, snapped his teeth. If this keeps happening, I might throw up.” Goose flopped down on the sofa next to Slider, drinks in hand. 

Slider sighed and took a swig. “Maybe we should lock ‘em in a room together till they either kill each other or fuck.”

Goose laughs loudly. “You know, I think you're onto something here.”

Slider turns to Goose, deadpan. “I was only half-joking, Nick.”

Oh shit, what had he gotten himself into.

———

“Ice, you gotta come see this thing I found.” 

“What is it, Sli, another plaque?”

“Well, it's in this classroom.”

Ice sighed and followed him up the stairs.Why they hadn't taken the elevator, Ice didn't know. Maybe Sli wanted exercise or something. 

Ice trailed Slider as he led him into a small classroom. “What the fuck is so interesting that it needed to be hidden away?”

“You'll see.” Slider chuckled and opened the door for Ice.

The room was just another classroom… There was nothing special about this room. What the hell?

“Sli, what—?”

“You two need to figure your shit out.”

Ice turned to see Maverick barreled through the door. He saw that Goose and Slider were standing outside the door as it closed. The lock clicked. Footsteps growing more distant.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“To hell if I know, Maverick.”

“This wasn't one of your schemes? That's a first, the Iceman himself surprised.”

Ice scoffed and turned toward the room’s window, even though the blinds were closed. “I don't know what your problem is, but it's clearly not my fault our RIOs locked us in a room.”

He turned back to Mav, who stared at him. “What?”

Mav crossed the room in a flash, eyes flaring. Ice doesn't do anything till Mav shoves him, hard. 

“What the fuck, Mav?”

“You're such a dick.” Mav tries to shove him again, but Ice catches him and holds his shirt. 

Ice snaps his teeth. “And you're a brat. You think you can get whatever you want because you're sexy.”

They're so close. Both flushed and panting, adrenaline pumping, Mav moves again and Ice thinks he's gonna punch him, but Mav just kisses him right on the lips. There's no softness, it's all teeth and tongue. A fight for dominance.

Alright, if the bastard wants a battle, then a battle he'll get.

Ice leans down and grabs Maverick's thighs, hard enough to leave a bruise. He picks up Mav easily. Mav hooks his legs against Ice’s waist quickly, pushing his lips against Ice ravenously. 

———

“Come on, man it's been 20 minutes, don't you think we should go check on them?”

“Do we gotta? I kinda like this ‘peace and quiet’ thing.”

Goose begins to pace, worried. “But what if they actually did kill each other?”

“Chill, Mother Goose, we’ll go. Just give ‘em a little bit.”

“Nope, I'm going now.”

“Fine. God, Goose, you're so dramatic.”

They walk down the hallway to the locked classroom, nervous. It's dead silent. Slider unlocks and opens the door. Ice and Mav are sitting on the floor, rumpled, flushed, and tired. They're grinning like idiots at each other. 

“Y'all good?” Slider is smirking.

“Yeah, bitch, real good.” Mav glances at Slider and Goose before getting lost in Ice's eyes again.

“Oh my god, did you guys—?” Goose pales.

“Your fault.” Ice looks dazed.

“How—”

“Y'all are the ones who locked us in here.” 

“We didn't expect you two to fuck like horny teenagers!”

Ice laughs at that. “Have you met Pete?”

Pete turns, offended. “You were the one that called me sexy!”

Slider sighs. “Oh my god if you two start fight again, I'm locking you in here over the weekend.”

 “No!”

——

[elvensorceress]

seven sentence who are we kidding here Sunday

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If you want to share something and haven’t already, tagging @ajunerose @swiftiebuckleys @prettyboybuckley @blutterlie @fleurdebeton @elfbuckleys @gaydisasterdiaz @messyhairdiaz @mansikkaomenabanaani @ashavahishta @megslovesbooks @hetrez @fatedbuck @clusterbuck @the-likesofus💜

more from my holiday Hallmark fic, after the bubble bath 🤣

They curl up in bed together when Buck finally decides he’s tired enough to leave the comfort of the hot bath. He falls asleep almost instantly and is already snoring and drooling into the pillows not even five minutes later. 

Eddie lies awake a little longer. He watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest and loves the way Buck still holds him tightly and nuzzles against Eddie’s shoulder. It’s such a vulnerable and intimate thing to sleep next to someone. To trust them when you’re unconscious and defenseless. 

Though in the face of Buck’s kindness, thoughtfulness, his sincerity, his enthusiasm, his incredible mind and ferocious heart — Eddie’s not sure he has any defenses. 

But he strokes Buck’s damp hair and lets his breathing fall into the same rhythm. He wonders if their heartbeats might align, too as his slows while he drifts off. It’s just an idle, barely awake musing, but he feels drawn into something like he’s magnetized, pulled by gravity, but falling into place. Like he’s always belonged right here with Buck asleep against his chest. 

When they wake in the morning, a kitchen attendant brings breakfast to the door, enough for two, and Eddie’s phone chimes with a message from Chim that is nothing but a wide, toothy smiley face. 

When Eddie texts back, We haven’t even kissed. Chim very thoughtfully and helpfully sends him an article on what kissing is and another one on how to do it. 

He’s sure Chim can sense the eye roll all the way wherever he is in the castle. But then Buck gets up and he’s rumpled and groggy, wearing Eddie’s clothes, and his wet hair dried smushed against pillows so it’s sticking up on one side and flat on the other, and he curls up on Eddie’s sofa and dishes up a huge bowl of nothing but fresh winter fruit. 

And Eddie badly wants to kiss him. 

He’d probably taste like oranges and kiwi and pomegranates, all tangy and sweet. He’d probably be warm and gentle, or maybe he’d be ravenously hungry. Eddie’s not sure which sounds better right now because he wants both and everything in between. He pours himself a cup of coffee and sips it slowly while he contemplates. 

It’s been enough time, right? They’ve waited more than two weeks now. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to share this with him, would it? 

By the time Eddie starts on some French baked eggs with herbs and garlic toast, Buck is already stuffed and finished, and he rubs a socked foot along Eddie’s leg as he sinks into the cushions and throw pillows and grins sweetly. “Hi.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow but has to smile. “Hi, yourself.”

Buck just beams. “I like waking up with you. I love mornings with you. And nights with you. I love everything with you.”

Eddie laughs and is sure he’s blushing because his face feels hot, and they haven’t even kissed yet. They haven’t. But it still feels like there’s giddiness bubbling inside his chest. He’s never had a love, or a potential love that felt like this — hopeful and fun and happy where they just enjoy sharing each other’s company. And resolutely vow to stand together and support each other. When has anyone ever done that? When has anyone ever looked at Eddie like a real person and not a mythical symbolic fantasy?

It’s different. The way Buck looks at him. As if Eddie’s performed elaborate and very real magic before his own eyes. But not in a way that forgets Eddie is just an ordinary human. It’s like he believes Eddie is otherworldly and something he might have dreamed up, but not like Eddie is a trophy on a pedestal. Buck isn’t buying into a showy façade. It’s like he really sees and wants the simple man underneath who is wounded and imperfect and damaged. 

Eddie just wants to stare at him with his rumpled clothes and messy hair and imprints of sheet crinkles on his face. He’s starting to be hungry, but he could forget about breakfast all together and just spend the rest of the day wrapped up in his arms, tangled so tightly with him they can’t be un-entwined. They could do that for hours, kind of have done that for hours, and it’s still not enough. 

There’s really only one thing that would make it better. They could be kissing. They could be wound around each other and he could have Buck’s lips on his own, and it makes butterflies swirl around inside him as if he’s a very young teenager again who has never known what it is to kiss anyone. It’s eagerness and excitement and dreams of what might be possible but it’s all mixed with so much hope and happiness. 

Has Eddie ever truly hoped for love? In a way where he believed it might be possible for him to have? 

Could it ever be possible to revive his silenced heart? Why does it always feel like it is when it’s with Buck? How can they fit together so easily and so perfectly? 

“I love it, too,” Eddie tells him softly. 

Buck’s eyes shimmer and he looks happy but like he’s using every last ounce of his strength to hold himself back. 

And Eddie doesn’t want him to do that. He wants Buck to love him. He wants to love Buck in return. It might hurt. It will hurt. How could anything that means so much not hurt in some way? But Eddie doesn’t want to be scared. He doesn’t want to be alone and a dead shadow of the person he could be. He wants to live. He wants to have joy and love in his life again. He’s always wanted a partner. 

Everyone needs a partner. 

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Dark chocolate. Falling in the dark. Constellations.

Group: B

-

Ad Astra

They’re called freckles, apparently.

It had taken Belle some time to figure out what he meant when he said he liked her ��little dots’. The word tickles him for some reason. It’s a fanciful-sounding thing. Freckles.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her – stretched out on the beach, the brim of her sunhat flopping into her eyes – he thought she might be made of alabaster. The same pearly gypsum as the statues he has found amongst the remnants of shipwrecks. He knows better now, having observed her so intimately. She is lovelier, far more fascinating than the unblemished stone of sculptures. There is such detail to her; the silvery streaks on her thighs and stomach, a few faded scars here and there, and all those gorgeous freckles.

She is the inverse of the night sky. If the sky is soot and coal with tiny pinpoints of light, she is cream and roses, stippled with ink stains. They form wee patterns on her skin like the stars overhead. Constellations, Belle called them. They’ve spent many afternoons lying in the sand, him dripping seawater onto the cover of her mythology book. The names bewitch him. Cassiopeia, Ophiuchus, Andromeda, Vulpecula. They’re prettier than the sort of human language his ears are accustomed to. Their lyrical quality resembles the sounds that his fellow Finfolk trill to one another beneath the waves.

Rumple likes to get her words right. He likes to get them wrong, too. He even does so on purpose, sometimes. Just to hear her darling giggle. Just to watch her plush, pink lips tenderly sound out each syllable as she corrects him. But his tongue takes quickly to the delicate names in her gilded book.

The constellations on Belle’s body don’t match the ones charted on the pages. They are entirely her own. It’s a game that he likes to play with himself on the sunniest, drowsiest afternoons. As Belle frolics in the surf and sunbathes on the low tide’s dense sand, he amuses himself by playing astronomer. It requires a great deal of imagination, but then, doesn’t all stargazing?

Lunaris; the cluster on her inner forearm that bears a striking resemblance to a crescent moon. Then there is Florens Rosa; a speckling that contours the back of her neck, each dot falling into place to create the illusion of a rose in bloom. And his very favorite, Saltatio Delphinus; the abstract likeness of a leaping dolphin on her upper thigh.

Every night, long after she’s returned to her cottage, Rumple peers through the mouth of his little grotto. He scans the stars to see if the Gods have plagiarized from Belle’s canvas. To see if they are brave enough to try to replicate one of her designs.

They never are.

(+++)

As a young boy, no larger than a seal pup, Rumple used to thrill-chase by diving into the seemingly bottomless trenches that cut into the seafloor. The blue of the water would get darker and darker as he plunged down, until he was floating in an empty, inky blackness. It was like being swallowed up by the maw of some ravenous predator. His vision would swim as he sank away from the surface, his small body too fragile to handle the pressures of such deep water. Yet, he would push on.

It was exhilarating. To free fall through the darkness, to do something he wasn’t built for.

Finfolk aren’t meant to dive so deep, but he did. They aren’t meant to liberate and hoard human trinkets. They aren’t meant to steal pretty human lasses.

But is that truly what he’s done? Stolen her? It certainly doesn’t feel like stealing. How can you steal what is so freely and happily given? How can you steal what is served on a silver platter, garnished with shortbread crumbs and cheeky smiles?

She was there throughout the summer, when the sunlight made her auburn hair burn like the bonfires the villagers build on the beach. And she is still here amid winter’s grasp, when the heavy clouds cast her in soft focus and the rain extinguishes the embers in her hair.

Every time he lays eyes on her, it is like diving into those trenches again. The disorientation, the vertigo, the intoxicating thrill. To be thoroughly overwhelmed and still want more.

Belle is an abundance of more, always willing to provide and spoil. Butterscotch and blackberries. Jokes, chats, and out-of-tune songs. Early morning breakfasts and late afternoon lunches. Stories of all sorts, bound in leather and paperboard.

And Rumple always takes without hesitation, for fear that there will come a day when there is nothing left to give.

(+++)

Most days, Rumple awaits her arrival in his grotto, tucked into the shadows, impishly giddy at the thought of taking her by surprise. On quieter days, when there is no traffic on the beach, he instead lounges in the tide pools, his eyes trained on the bluff’s coastal trail.

He has waited long past sunset today, which is a rarity. Belle finally trots into view over the uplands’ crest, her knapsack heaved over one shoulder, its bulging mouth threatening to spit its contents in exasperation. Her silhouette is otherworldly, the green tartan skirt of her frock looking flimsy as the moonlight passes through it.

Rumple doesn’t have to question if she comes bearing treats. She clambers onto the rocky outcrop to reach him. A small rectangle robed in silver foil is pressed into his wet hands.

He adores the foil, marveling at how it reflects the water’s shimmering surface in its ripples and wrinkles. He does not adore what the foil is wrapped around.

Belle claims it’s chocolate, but he has his doubts.

“It’s dark chocolate,” she explains, nibbling on a square. “It has less sugar and no milk, so it’s sharper. There’s a bitter bite to it.”

“It’s re-volt-ing.”

“You eat raw trout.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering disparaging comments about his palate. Despite her grousing, she is more than happy to polish off half of the chocolate bar by herself. It makes sense to him. Belle likes sharp things; teeth, and claws, and wits.

Rumple doesn’t mind sharp, but he prefers soft; round jawlines, and button noses, and fond scolding. What he can’t stomach is bitterness. It agonizes him that the stories in Belle’s mythology book all start so whimsically and end so brutally. And that no matter how sweet their days are together, it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll always leave him at the end.

She allows the hefty book to continue its slumber in the caverns of her bag. It’s too dark for her deficient human eyes to make out the fancy lettering. Besides, she looks far too tired for narration duty. Her cheeks are stained with a lingering flush of exertion, her eyes dim with sleepy contentment.

“Today was the Cèilidh,” she says, by way of explanation.

Despite her sore legs and weary yawns, he rouses her to perform a final dance for an audience of one. She demonstrates a reel, her skirt flaring around her legs as her bare feet kick up golden puffs of sand.

Rumple doesn’t really need to know what it’s supposed to look like to know that she isn’t very good at it. Her footwork is clumsy and she wobbles as she pivots. She’s even off-time to her own humming.

“Not the most graceful sort, are you?”

Belle lurches to a stop mid-turn, her brows knitting together. “Excuse me?”

“You look rid-ic-ulous.”

“It’s a far cry better than you could do.”

He gives an exaggerated sneer of offense. “You think dancing requires legs? How horren-dous-ly ignorant.”

Her mouth perks into an amused smile. “Show me.”

“A proper dance begs a partner, does it not?” he says, beckoning to her with his talons.

Puckish delight eats up the sweet turn of her lips. She used to make such a fuss about swimsuits. Now, she just gathers the hem of her tartan frock in her fists and lifts it up over her head. She discards it in a careless heap on the rocks.

Next came the perplexing underthings, fiddly-looking clasps coming undone with a flick of her fingers. Rumple drinks her in like a marooned man at a pool of freshwater.

It fills him with pride to be the one allowed to stargaze at the lavish expanse of her pale, pretty sky. To behold the constellations that live beneath sweaters and sensible woolen tights.

She wades into the water, her skin pebbling in the brisk night air. He takes her hands in his own and guides her further into the sea, the waves lazily sloshing against his back. When her toes can barely touch the ocean floor, he winds his arms around her waist. He hauls her into an embrace, thinking of how sailors greet their sweethearts the first moment their boots hit dry land.

Then, with a twist of his fin, he sweeps her legs out from under her, tucking his tail beneath her bent knees. Belle’s squeak of surprise gets lost in a breathless giggle.

He supports her gently, their bare chests flush against one another. The lack of resistance in the water allows them to spin effortlessly, twirling in small, quick circles. There are no fancy steps – no steps of any sort – but Belle begins to absently hum that same Cèilidh melody.

“It sounds better on a fiddle,” she murmurs, as though embarrassed by her rendition.

“I sin-cere-ly doubt that,” he whispers back.

As they spin, weightless and languid, Rumple leans his forehead against hers; his customary vow of adoration. But then, Belle does something strange. She tilts her chin up and presses her mouth to his. As she captures his bottom lip between her own, Rumple lets out a choked gasp, like a human swallowing seawater.

And then it’s over. It was so fleeting, he could have whimpered from the loss.

“Mhm…what…what was that?”

“A kiss.”

So he does what he’s always done when Belle gives him something; he immediately asks for more.

One kiss turns into two, which melts into a third, and a subsequent stream of kisses that come so leisurely, there is no telling where they begin and end. And he’s falling again, into the darkness of the sea’s deepest trench. His head is spinning, his lungs are burning, and still his every thought is ‘more, more, more’.

“You’re very greedy,” she chastises, though there is little heat behind her words.

Rumple flashes his serrated teeth, heartened rather than discouraged. “You shouldn’t give so readily, dearie. A beast may become accus-tomed to taking more than you’re willing to part with.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t let you have.”

And he believes her, his generous Belle.

He is struck with a stroke of brilliance. A kiss could be planted just about anywhere, couldn’t it? What if he were to kiss every last constellation in her sky? He could even tell her all of their names as he goes.

He purrs this idea against her lips. Belle throws her head back, moonlight splashing over her porcelain face, and she sends a laugh up to the true stars above. And then her laughter is smothering him as she gives a greedy beast his fill.

Rumple realizes, huffing a small chuckle of his own, that he might like the flavor of dark chocolate after all. So long as he is tasting it on her tongue.

-

[gingersnappe-9]

In a Crowd of Thousands: Beskar vs. the Dark Saber (16)

Din Djarin/Mando X Fem!OC || Star Wars/The Mandalorian Universe

Series List || #star wars anastasia || PREVIOUS || NEXT

5.4 K words

Warning: canon violence (lethal weapons use), near death experience(s)

A/N: chapter banner art by @followwhereshegoes​ & myself

The plan was to announce her reunion to Leia and reaffirm their family’s legacy of fighting for the greater good of the galaxy. 

Ava tried convincing herself that it was for the best. No, that it was her rightful place to be by her sister’s side fighting the good fight with the Rebellion and serving as a diplomatic attache to underprivileged reaches of the galaxy. It’s what they talked about at least, but the more Ava experienced it, the stuffier she rediscovered it all was. She recalled how much she disliked wearing dresses that she could potentially trip over and fall on her face in front of some important foreign dignitary – she actually remembered doing that once when she was younger – She had forgotten how most of the individuals in law and diplomacy were decades older than her and never quite appreciated her humor. Ava accidently scandalized a maid when she dropped a book on her toe while practicing her walk – like he did back on the Crest – and swore like a spice runner. 

Try as she might, Ava was just having a far more difficult time fitting in to her birthright. She’d watch the maids flit around and coo about the fine jewelry and dresses she and Leia would be wearing to the event. She had to agree though, the gowns and finery were stunning. The material felt like starlight across Ava’s fingertips. The bright colored gemstones of her necklace were as red as sand stone. A pair of crowns, however, remained in their storage boxes. Leia suggested they hold off on donning their headdresses until they arrived at the venue. 

“They’re gorgeous but I’ve knocked mine off my head getting out of a cruiser or two.” The sisters shared a good laugh. Ava wasn’t sure what being a “someone” should feel like but only deep down in her subconscious did she consider that she really only needed simple things… perhaps a simple person. 

Sooner, rather than later, everyone was dressed and being ushered into sleek, black cruisers. Leia and her secretary or personal assistant immediately began chatting about her schedule and future events. They didn’t seem to need her attention so Ava allowed herself to gaze out the tinted windows and onto the passing by cityscape. The light had already begun to bleed from the sky as dusk settled over Canto Bight. The lights streaked by not unlike the stars at lightspeed, though they paled in comparison.

They arrived at the Starfield Legacy Center far earlier than even the ravenous reporters who were always far more interested in capturing the glitzy regalia or a moment of weakness between a supposedly madly in love couple. Ava and Leia calmly walked through a side entrance with grand capes covering their ensembles with ushers following closely on foot with the crowns, locked away in protective boxes. One of the event coordinators brought them up to a secluded room where they could freshen up and wait in privacy before the speeches and press rounds. Ava sat down quietly on a plush chair tucket into the corner. She fiddled with her opera length gloves to keep herself from messing up her hair or makeup or her dress. She watched as Leia moved through the motions with ease. How her sister handled unexpected questions with ease and firm command. Leia was a natural born leader and Ava adored watching her in her element. If Ava had been left to her own devices, she would’ve shown up with a smear of grease on her cheek, a pair of work coveralls all rumpled and disheveled only to say, “Hi, I’m her. So, yeah that’s it”. 

Lost in thought, Ava didn’t even notice that Leia had approached her with one of the large lock boxes balanced in her arms. She had already placed her silver crown neatly on her head. It resembled a solid halo that sat across the center of her head with five slender peaks jutting out. Alderaanian jewelry was rather simple, but in its simplicity they were always striking. The necklace – small squares of Alderaanian silver linked by delicate jump rings – was a piece that their mother wore often. The necklace must’ve been stored off-world at an embassy for it to have been saved from the destruction of Alderaan.  

“I believe it is time.” 

Ava stood up slowly as Leia rested the box on the nearby side table. When the cover was lifted, the light in the room seemed to shift to a golden hour. The halo-shaped crown was fitted to her scalp with a tapered point resting just below the center of her hairline. Teardrop shaped pearls rested across her forehead. The thin bands that reached out were like rays of the sun with even more pearls inlaid in between. Ava let herself adjust to the weight of it, glad that Leia suggested she hold off wearing it until necessary. There was music beginning to play from the hall, though muffled it signaled the evening was beginning. 

The two of them walked over to a large full-length mirror on the other side of the room. They looked very much like the sun and moon – Ava in her striking gold crown, cream colored dress with a deep green sash; and Leia in her midnight purple gown, silver jewelry, and similar sash made of a maroon satin – Their father used to call them his sun and moon. Leia placed a hand on each of Ava’s shoulders and allowed her cheek to rest on her sister. They stood there taking in the sight of one another. Taking in the other’s presence and the reality that against all odds they were together again. Family. 

Leia squeezed Ava’s shoulders and took a step back. “You look so much like her.” 

“Who?” Ava responded quietly. 

Leia only smiled. “Mama. You have her presence.” 

The younger of the two sisters smiled right back. “You remind me of Papa. You’re always so sure, and just as fair.” 

“You’ve done well, you know,” Leia spoke calmly, “I know none of this has been easy. But you’ve done really well with handling everything that’s come your way.” 

“The journey was interesting to say the least.” Ava quipped. 

The two of them stood silently together for a moment more. But only a moment before Leia took Ava’s hands and helped her slip her gloves on. For some reason, when she focused on the gloves, she thought of Mando and how his gloves slipped on and off his hands. 

Leia half smiled. “But I can't help but wonder if it’s what you really want.” 

Ava pulled her hands back while Leia regally collapsed hers together. “What does that mean?” 

“I just mean… You were born into this world. It was your destiny from birth to wear that crown and carry on the legacy of house Organa as much as it is mine to carry on the Organa and Skywalker legacy,” Her voice never waivered, never accusatory or disappointed, just very truthful, “But I can’t help but feel that it might not be meant for you after all.”

The pair of them stood in the room alone in silence for a moment after Leia finished. Ava had similar thoughts float into her mind but she’d always dismissed them as trivial since everything the Mandalorians had told her was a lie to get her sister’s money. “Whatever happened, happened. I can’t change it and I will not go back to it.” 

Leia gave her a look only older sisters could make. “He must have been special then for you to be digging your heels like a ton-ton.” 

After she had to throw back a lighthearted grimace at being called a ton-ton, Ava didn’t know what to feel. No, she knew exactly how she should feel. It was a lie for money. A cash grab. Nothing more, nothing less. Ava knew Leia could sense her feelings so there was no point delaying the obvious. 

“They did what bounty hunters do. They delivered their quarry and now they’re probably halfway to a new sector by now.” She said with more sorrow than intended. It hurt to put power into her fears. Out of the corner of Ava’s eye, she caught her sister with a somewhat hesitant look. “What?” Leia’s face shifted rather quickly to one with a soft, knowing smile. 

“Aurie, he didn’t take the money. And I can’t imagine their withholding information makes you feel better, but for what it’s worth, they brought you back to me. But this is the life that I have chosen for myself. I supposed, now, it’s your turn to choose.” 

Leia let go of Ava’s hands and began to walk towards the door and didn’t turn back to see if her sister was following until she opened the door. When Leia turned back, she truly looked like their mother. Though Ava knew the two weren’t blood related, it was in the way Leia carried herself. Her poise, the way she tilted her head and said, “Ava, Aurelia, it makes no difference to me. You are mine and Luke’s sister. We will always love you.” And then she calmly walked out into the world Ava was uncertain of reentering. 

It felt as if the world had spun off its axis and was floating farther and farther away from its sun. So Ava decided to go outside and take in some fresh air. 

The gardens were large and expansive – but most importantly empty – on a large earthen terrace that overlooked Canto Bight. From its vantage point, Ava could see the city cresting out towards the bay. The calm waters glittered in the early moonlight. Distant sounds of life were carried in on the wind. Below, each and every person walked their own path. Difficult ones. Easy ones. Some that were hard one day then a breeze the next. What path will I take now? She’d found her family. More than she was expecting, two whole siblings who expressed their unconditional love for her. What was next? 

What indeed?

A foreign voice echoed in her mind and all of a sudden Ava’s body stiffened. She turned around quickly and found the path empty. But something or someone was out there. A new energy swirled in the air. Ava felt like her nerves were on fire as her blood began to pound behind her temples. The energy, the presence, she’d felt it before crawling in the back of her mind. It was cold and filled with a quiet and dangerous rage. 

“I know you.” Her voice wavered as she spoke out into whatever darkness was drawing closer. 

A man appeared. The same stern face and severe eyes. His hands were placed behind his back as he walked with precise steps. In a word, elegant, or more accurately, predatory. His dark eyes stared her down, hungrier than his demeanor gave off.  

“Yes. We’ve met before. In a manner of speaking.” He continued to stalk forward. 

She put her hand out – as if the gesture would protect her – “Who are you?” 

“My name is Moff Gideon, your Highness.” He gave a short nod after her title. 

A chill ran through her spine. “You have me confused with someone else.” No sooner did Ava try to turn around, a powerful feeling wrapped around her mind giving her a splitting headache. It nearly made her drop to her knees. 

“Oh, I’m not confused at all. You are the lost daughter of Senator and Queen Organa,” His voice was cold and seemed to strike with a blunt edge with each word, “Though my plans need a little adjusting you’ll do just fine.” 

She turned around to face the man and slowly backed away with each step he took; but even so, she felt like she was being backed into a corner. “Stop.” 

He kept advancing with a ceaseless gaze. 

“Stop.”  

Her head hurt.

“Stop.” 

Everything seemed wrong and her hands twitched. 

“STOP!” 

Ava thrust both of her palms out towards him and felt a surge of energy release. It was like a pulse, her pulse, magnified outward. It was not unlike what she experienced at the opera with Mando. 

She opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d squeezed them shut. Ava saw Gideon down on one knee, huffing to try and bring air back into his lungs. Ava channeled whatever courage she could muster, and tried to remember Luke’s lessons. But it felt like her memory was failing. A few stints in force sensitivity training did not a Jedi make. 

In her mind she asked for help from the cosmic forces of the universe, the Maker, Luke… Mando… anyone. 

A terrible sound came from his throat. It was strained laughter, or at least some form of it. “Excellent. Most excellent.” Gideon pushed himself up with visible struggle but quickly regained his footing. He moved his cloak to the side and revealed a hilt clipped to his belt, took it in hand, “You do indeed have what I want, Princess” and ignited the blade. 

It was unlike anything Ava had ever seen. It mimicked the way Luke’s lightsaber emitted light, but it was dark. The blade was black with white edges. The energy surrounding the weapon was just as dark. Ava sensed how it wrapped around Moff Gideon’s mind and body, twisting and warping what was already malevolent to begin with. It was consuming him. Alarm bells screamed out in Ava’s mind. Run. 

She took off in an instant without direction or awareness. Ava gathered as much of the dress into her arms as she could, but the weight of the fabric still seemed to slow her down. It didn’t help that she’d lost sight of the building between the impossibly tall greenery. Ava figured her best bet would be to hide where he wouldn’t expect to look or would be least likely to find her. So Ava ducked into a nearby cluster of trees. 

The more she pushed her way through, however, the sleeves and hem of her dress caught and snagged on branches and twigs. It ripped the delicate overlay of her dress and muddied her heels. Finding they only got stuck in the dirt and undergrowth, Ava kicked them off and daringly threw them away in hopes it would possibly fool Gideon into going a different direction. 

It felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest. The more time she spent in suspense, the harder her blood pounded. The greater the ringing in her ears became as the sky grew darker and the shadows became more and more menacing. Her mind felt cloudy. She couldn’t hear anything or anyone. They must’ve been deeper into the garden than she’d realized. Despite her mental haze, Ava gently tried closing her eyes and reaching out to feel for presence. She’d barely touched the surface when something came screaming into her mind. It felt like claws digging into her nerves. Her skin became so cold so quickly it felt as if it were burning. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but scream out in agony. 

I found you. 

Before she even knew it, a deep reverb echoed in her mind alerting her not a moment too soon before a blade struck out just millimeters above her head. 

Ava scrambled to her feet and ran back out onto the path. Her body still cried out in pain, and her breach into energy opened like a flood gate. Gideon was still gaining on her. She reached out and felt the finely laid stone beneath her feet; she focused on the craggy surface and motioned with her hand as if she were clawing it out from the ground and flung it back with all her strength. A large chunk flew up and back at her pursuer. Ava heard rock crumbling, and when she looked back, saw the slab sliced in two. 

Impossible. 

“No, not impossible, my dear.”

Somehow the lunatic was in her head. He was the clawing in her mind, like a poison slowly creeping into her bloodstream. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice felt hoarse and her body was only growing weaker. 

“Why does anyone do anything? Power. Power is the way of the world. It always has been. It brings the greatest change and is the strength of the longest lasting empires. And with the dark saber and you, my goals for the galaxy are well within reach.” 

“You’re forgetting that most power-hungry madmen are spineless cowards who use others to get what they want.” Her voice was horse and growing strained. 

Gideon chuckled with a false humor. It was cruel and mocking. Ava could feel it pulsing behind her eyes and the pain brought her down to her knees as he skulked closer. 

“You’ve just never seen true power before. This,” He brandished the blade up towards her face. So close, Ava could feel the cold energy pulsing off it. “This is what power really is.” 

She’d never seen energy like it before. The blade both emitted light and yet somehow seemed void of it. As such close proximity, she felt it draining her energy even more. Only one sort of thing in the known universe drew in energy like that – a black hole. The dark saber was some sort of contained black hole. It had to have been. It appeared to be the antithesis of a lightsaber which projected the wielder’s energy. The dark saber fed off it. It pulled in the life force of its wielder, even those around it. 

“That thing is killing you.” Something flashed quickly across Gideon’s face. He wasn’t expecting her to say something like that, and Ava caught it. “But you didn’t know that, did you? How could you, you don’t know anything real about power you-” 

He quickly slashed the blade through the air and swiped Ava’s cheek. It burned. It was cold and yet burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt in her life. The pain rendered her speechless as she was knocked to the floor grasping her cheek. 

“I know more about this power than anyone else in the galaxy,” The tip of the blade hovered precariously close to her face, “Pity. You could’ve been something great. But you’re just like all the rest of those feckless fools in the Resistance. You’re just standing in my way.” 

Ava’s world suddenly came to a screeching halt. She’d heard those words before spoken in that very same voice. Out of nowhere she recalled crouching behind a hallway corner, then a hand falling to the floor. It had been her father’s hand. Ava could hear her mothers scream before her body hit the floor with a sickening, and lifeless thud. “It was you…” Her voice caught in her throat, “You killed them.” 

When Ava looked up at Moff Gideon his face was twisted into a mad grin. He relished in her horrifying realization. 

His eyes were wide and wild, “I’ll take what I need. But don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon enough.” Gideon raised the darksaber to dish out what could only be a mortally wounding blow. 

Please… 

A blaster shot rang out, as if from thin air, struck the flat side of the saber blade, ricocheting off into the ground. 

A feeling swept over Ava, it was good and young. Grogu. And where the tiny green creature found himself, another was never far behind. 

Ava turned her head in the direction of the shot and saw a familiar silhouette slip into the shadows. She sensed how he stalked through the dark and cover of the greenery ever closer. His watchful gaze never left hers. Ava could feel in her own muscles the way his pulled and strained against his bones. The strength in his hands as he gripped his blaster artfully. Teeming with energy and an overwhelming urge to seek and destroy. 

Without realizing, Gideon slashed down again.

Ava’s body reacted before she could even think. Her palm extended outward just as the saber came down. The scene around her became perfectly clear in her mind. The stone surface of the pathway through the soft and tearing material of her dress; she became one with the plant cells slowly blooming while others had fallen to the ground and went through the final stages of decomposition. The air molecules surrounding the blade snapped and popped as it moved through the air. And just before the saber made contact with her flesh, it stopped. 

It stopped the same way two magnets of the same polarization repelled one another. The blade held against nothing in midair. The two of them stared at each other with a look of awe but even during that moment, Ava could feel her control slipping. 

Another blaster shot, this one straight to Gideon’s hands, knocking the saber from his grip. The next thing Ava saw was the bulk of Mandalorian armor hurdling out from nowhere and tackling Gideon to the ground. The two men grappled on the ground for the upperhand. They seemed to match each other blow for blow. Though Mando was strong, Ava could sense something in Gideon had been altered by the blade. He fought back like an animal possessed, clawing and punching and the soft points between Mando’s armor. Gideon somehow managed to rip off one of Mando’s thigh plates and used it to completely slap Mando clean across his helm. 

The sound of pure beskar striking beskar was loud for Ava, so it must’ve been somewhat deafening for Mando. The Mandalorian stumbled back and Gideon managed to reach for a blaster hidden on the opposite side of his hip. Ava cried out just as Gideon pulled the trigger, striking Mando in the shoulder, just below his pauldron. She barely registered the distressed sounds coming from Grogu’s pram just a few meters away. He tried to come forward, but Ava intentionally held his little craft back. 

In the moments afterwards, it felt like the shot kept ringing in her ears. 

“There is a reason his kind is all but extinct,” Gideon’s voice was wicked and chilled, “Too noble for their own good.” He took aim again, this time, where the hollow of Mando’s throat would be. She could feel his pain rippling throughout his arm, she felt his racing pulse slow. Mando fought to maintain his composure as his thoughts grew fuzzy till they all disappeared into unconsciousness. 

Ava’s hands twitched again. They needed to hold on to something. They needed to defend. Her mind reached out, and no sooner could Gideon place his finger on the trigger did the dark saber skitter across the ground and fly into Ava’s hand. She surged forward with a speed she didn’t know she had. The blade sliced up through the barrel of the blaster as if it were nothing. The force of her attack was strong enough to knock Gideon back a few paces. 

Something took Ava over. She felt a thrum of electricity coursing through her. She felt like a star about to explode, just teeming with potential power and energy. So she took off. 

Gideon barely had enough time to react. The saber came down hard against the plate. It was beskar versus the dark saber. Blow after blow, Ava continued to swing with every ounce of her strength that she could muster, and the blade responded in kind. She let her anger roll through her like the undercurrent of a torrent river. It was a rage she’d never felt before, or had only become aware of the moment she realized Gideon was the man who slaughtered her parents. Ava slashed and punched and kicked and all he could do was use his small shield against her. The ground beneath them quickly bore the marks of their opposing efforts. Scorches here, slashes there, the concrete and stonework ripped from the ground. Sweat crept down Gideon’s brow, the weapon he once envisioned himself conquering the galaxy with had been turned against him. It drew on his fear. 

He was responsible for her suffering. He was the one who’s greed had led to the deaths of so many innocent lives. He’d nearly killed Mando. He had tried to kidnap and do Maker know what sort of horrible things to little Grogu, and possibly even her. Ava’s hands grew hot from the fury surging through her body. It felt as though her eyes glowed in anger. The dark saber responded, it hummed and sang in her mind to the very same tune of revenge. It craved it as much as she did. Moff Gideon needed to pay for his crimes, and they decided he would. 

With a swift punch backed by the force, Ava swiftly knocked the air clean out of Gideon’s lungs. He lay on his back atop the wreckage they’d both created. Ava hadn’t even realized how far they’d traveled till she caught a glimpse of herself in some sculpture. The polished metal reflected back an image of herself that Ava didn’t recognize. Her dress was torn and mottled with dirt and debris. Her crown was long gone and her hair was coming undone. What startled her most was her eyes. They weren’t brown anymore, they seemed brighter with flashes of red on the outer edge of her iris. She was changing before her eyes. The blade sang out in protest of her stalling. 

Ava paused and looked for a moment at the strange sword. She listened to it with a more careful ear, and what she heard was different from her initial judgment. 

The blade wasn’t inherently evil. It wasn’t anything much at all. Energy was constantly flowing through the crystal within. Raw potential. It called for revenge because she had wished for it in her mind. Standing there and witnessing how quickly hate had made her change frightened Ava. The potential had always been there, but it took the blade to make herself realize how much of her emotions she had been ignoring. It stung. The hilt grew heavy with doubt, and it was in that split second Gideon acted. 

He lunged up from the ground like some feline creature with his teeth bared ready to sink into the soft flesh of its prey. 

His hands wound around her own on the hilt of the dark saber. The two of them grappled with strained muscles. Ava nearly bit into her lip with the amount of effort it took to keep the blade away from Gideon’s effort to drive it into her throat. The man’s eyes were as wild and feral as her own, but Ava felt her anger slipping away. It pained her to look him in the face – the man responsible for her mother and father’s deaths – but a new sensation began to whisper in the back of her mind… 

We will always love you. 

We are with you.

It was Leia. Luke. Her parents. Everyone who cared for her, near and far, alive and gone. Their essences melding together like a balm that soothed her soul. Their love and spirits were with her. They would remain in and all around her. No matter how angry she was, how hurt and betrayed by fate she felt, Ava realized that would never die. It would sustain her, it had thus far. She’d traveled clear across the galaxy for a feeling she did not have a name for… but it was the love for her family, found or otherwise. 

In her hands, she could sense the saber mirroring her conflicting emotions. How it cried out in confusion from her influence as well as Gideon’s. It was the oldest song in the galaxy: one of struggle, light and dark. Only Ava seemed to be listening to it.  

“Why don’t you seem to understand?” He hissed, close enough Ava could feel the heat of his breath against her face, “The only way to exist is to take and maintain order.” 

Ava was close. Even with her limited knowledge of sabers, she felt for the housing unit within the hilt. She could feel the power circuits and the wiring leading to a central unit. All the while, Gideon’s grip had become so fierce he pushed her palm so hard into the hilt they’d begun to bleed against the detailing. His fingernails bore into her skin leaving red crescents dribbling. 

There. 

The image of it came clear in her mind. It was no bigger than her thumb, deep like onyx and vast as a moonless night. 

“For take, there should be give. After death, life should grow,” She planted her feet and dung down deep, “The galaxy will continue forward long after any of us leave this world. Any attempts to out last it are foolish.” 

She bore down on the housing unit. Felt it break and warp under her pressure. Release. Gideon sensed it too. He began to yell and scream in vain. Ava had already cracked in, uncontained energy had begun to spill out. 

“The way of existence is balance.” 

It broke and like a supernova, energy poured outward. The saber sparked and burst, sending out white hot particles. Ava and Gideon were knocked back with scorch marks across their exposed skin. 

Ava landed hard on her back, the wind knocked clean out of her. In her attempts to pull air back into her lungs, she struggled to look around. Gideon lay in a smoldering pool of his black cloak. Unmoving. The crystal lay amongst the debris of the destroyed hilt, calm. She pulled it into the palm of her hand with little effort. It was indeed as black as the void of space, so much so, it seemed her hand had developed a blackhole. Vengeance no longer silently plagued her mind. That part was done and over. It was time for growth. 

Ava whipped her head back to see if Grogu had avoided the flair. The doors of his pram opened with a soft hydraulic hiss and sweet eyes gazed down at her as he floated in her direction. 

“Where’s your dad?” She wheezed. 

Grogu hovered off in a direction and Ava stumbled behind as if she were a babe just learning to walk. When Mando came into view the adrenaline had begun to wear off. From the distance, Ava couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.

All of her strength gave out leaving her no choice but to crawl the last few feet to Mando. His beskar was scorched and scored from the saber. Bits of his flight suit were singed and the place beneath his right pauldron was soaked in red. Panic seized her heart and muscles. Her once steady hands shook uncontrollably as she lifted the pauldron up and off. The site was black and oozing. Knowing she didn’t have enough strength to see if the shot had gone clean through his shoulder, Ava had to lean her entire upper body weight to apply pressure. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat slow. The bleeding had been prolonged without any intervention and his body was showing the toll. Her entire body shook. She was beaten and aching. Shrapnel had certainly lodged itself in various points of her body, but none of that mattered. Ava reached for whatever energy she had left. 

She felt the dimming hum of Mando’s life. It was slipping away. 

“No,” Tears fell across the motionless helmet, “Not you too.” Her voice was barely there. Desperation and despair thick enough that she practically choked on it. “Please… I need you… I… love… you.” 

Grogu appeared beside her. His small hand reached for the site. Ava wanted to pull his untainted fingers back, no child should have to witness and partake in such misery. But something washed over her. Energy pooled in a different direction the closer Grogu came. 

She rested her hand atop Grogu’s significantly smaller one. Ava allowed herself to follow the gentle current. Beneath her trembling fingers, Ava could feel Mando’s skin shifting. Torn cells joined again. Layers of epidermis repaired itself slowly as the current flowed from hers and Grogu’s hands. Mando’s heartbeat rose. But Ava’s dipped. She was giving so he could take. 

Slowly but surely, with their conjoined effort, the wound was mended. The viscous remnants remained, but the bleeding had stopped. He took a deep breath which meant Ava could finally take one herself. 

By then, there was shouting and disturbance from the crowds above. Ava sent off a brief moment to her sister and to Luke. Whether or not they sensed it, Ava didn’t care. Her eyes were heavy and her body had already slumped across Mando’s chest. The coolness of the beskar soothed the heat from the mark across her cheek. Grogu had already succumbed to his much needed rest. Whoever would find them would be in for a surprise. 

A princess, a bounty hunter, a small child all together. 

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[mehoymalloy]

26, Otohan/Liliana

26. Bed hair

This is set in the Moon Moms universe. Hope you enjoy, because I am an emotional wreck inside :)

EDIT: I cleaned it up and posted it on A03 as well, which you can read HERE.

Liliana cracked open sleep-tired eyes, groggily watching motes of dust drift in the air above her, illuminated by a shaft of early morning sunlight. Rolling her neck to the side, she was immediately treated to the sight of Otohan sprawled out beside her, legs above the rumpled covers, kicked off during the night. One arm was thrown above her head, hand tucked underneath her pillow, while the other was laid across her stomach, midriff exposed where her shirt had ridden up. In sleep, Otohan's face was shockingly soft. Her lips, usually pressed thin in a stoic line, were now parted—if Liliana were daring, she might even say pouting—as Otohan breathed deep and easy. The perpetual stern set to her brow had been worn away. Recently-developing wrinkles around her eyes were smoothed into subtle grooves—ravines rather than canyons carved into her skin. The edge of the sunbeam cutting through the window had only just reached the bed, and it made the crimson markings scrolling up Otohan's neck glow bright and angry against her brown skin. But that warm light also revealed the slightest sheen of rich umber hidden in Otohan's raven curls, made the streak of silver at her temple appear almost blindingly white. Those curls Liliana quietly adored were frizzed wild from Otohan's tossing and turning throughout the night. She hadn't slept well since the war, but seeing her now, so peaceful in sleep, transported Liliana to another time—a decade ago in this very same bed. When Relvin had first passed, there was a short time when Otohan neglected her duties to stay with Liliana, a decision Otohan made herself, not a request Liliana had asked of her. Otohan had helped with final arrangements, kept the house in order, and, of course, cared for Imogen. And every night, Liliana had gone to sleep with Otohan in her bed and an ache in her heart. Otohan had respected her grief, offering a strained but gentle caress with her mind rather than her hand. And each morning Liliana woke, it got a little bit easier. Then one morning, Liliana opened her eyes to find Otohan already awake and lying on her side, curls frizzed and mussed. Her hand lay on the bed between them, stretched out toward Liliana but not quite touching, and Otohan had stared at Liliana with sleep-soft eyes that held a warmth she rarely showed so openly. Liliana leaned forward to kiss her before she could even think about it. When Otohan slowly kissed her back, that warmth Liliana had seen in Otohan's gaze seemed to spill through the cracks in Liliana's heart, seeping in like a balm to her grief before the guilt could flare up in its stead. Now, those same eyes fluttered open, a bit more world-weary but still with that familiar flicker of warmth—dimmed as it may be. Liliana rolled onto her side to face Otohan, propping herself up on her elbow. Reaching across the short distance between them, she buried her fingers in those gorgeous curls, dipping down to draw Otohan into a soft, slow kiss, slightly bittersweet. Liliana quietly grieved the woman she had lost, taken from her by a pointless war. But she was so grateful for the woman who remained—recognizable to her despite the cruel world and the changes it wrought.

[ryuto12]

End Credit Predictions

With less than twelve hours left, here goes my predictions for the end credits this season. Really hoping we actually get some unlike in 7.

This has three sections, one for where there's no timeskip on Remnant and one where their are varying timeskip ideas, and the last that could really take place anytime

No Timeskip:

Welcome to Shade Academy, where your safe and protected but somewhere off in the desert your friends and family and left fighting for their lives and the citizens of a fallen kingdom, all while thinking the five of you died.

Welcome to where the portal once remained, RWBYJ comes out exactly where the portal opened, and begins fighting alongside the others who are very confused but happy they're alive.

Welcome to Patch, where a very confused sunny father tries to water his sunflowers only to see five kids fall from the sky and crush them. Two of the kids are his daughters... Oh shit.

Welcome to Branwen camp where Raven is blackout drunk and the rest of her crew is very fucking confused as to why five kids just fell out of the sky and isn't that one girl Raven's daughter? Is that other brat the Schnee they kidnapped? Is the kid the girl from the broadcast? Is the Faunus the girl who led the Menagerie forces at Haven? Who the hell is the boy?

Timeskip:

"And it is here we remember Weiss Schnee, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a hero, a huntress-- and ayo what the fuck? Is that her over there?" The show up at their own damn funerals.

The war is over, Salem is dead. Very unlikely but fuck if it wouldn't shake up the whole story.

It's been thirty years, the war is still going strong. Many of our favorite characters are dead, JNORE are all about the same age, RWBY are still young and ready to finish what they started.

It's been over a hundred years, the world immortalized them as villains and failures, their back to take back their legacy and save the world.

Drop in on Willow and Klein getting married.

Its been a few months, they drop in back at Beacon to see Salem waging her battle for the Crown, having already taken the sword. Aka we skip the Vacuo arc.

Ren and Nora are sitting, crying at Jaune's grave, the bitch falls from the sky and dogpiles both of them in the deepest hug and they don't even know what's happening. He's waited decades for this.

Drop in on Nora opening the Vault (I am a firm Summer Maiden Nora believer)

Anytime:

Summer. Just Summer wordlessly standing, eyes shut or with her back to us, leaving us unable to see if she has those dark rings like the hound had around her eyes, Salem's ominous voice sounding over it before it cuts to blackness.

Something escapes from the Ever After.

Penny's body, which was bound to fall into the Ever After, is found by the Blacksmith or Jabberwalker.

Raven Branwen. Just some Raven getting ready to go back into the fight with Salem.

TRQ, reunited and ready to find out exactly what happened to Summer, and to end the everlasting war because it'd taken too much from them. Friends, lovers, nieces, children... Salem has to go.

It was all an act, Emerald was never on their side, she was faking it and now she betrays them. (I sincerely hope not cause Emerald's in my top 5)

Nora, back turned to the camera as we distantly hear battle noises, as we see a pink aura radiate from around where her eyes would be. (Still a firm Summer Maiden Nora theorist)

Rumple and/or Theo ready to change some lives and fuck with the plot.

Carmine Esclados, from within her jail cell realizing that the Crown was a shitty employer, but this Salem chick might work out.

[memoonthemove]

How I Got Here (part 2)

It's really weird, to realize something that makes you rethink everything you thought you knew for thirteen years.

What I knew: My master was never planning to turn me.

What I know now: He was always going to turn me, but he worried I would resent him for it.

What I wish he'd known: He might have been right, I can't say, but it wouldn't have mattered.

I resented him for thirteen years, and that didn't stop me from loving him that entire time.

But he didn't just help me complete my transformation. He helped me undo it, which I didn't even realize was possible. But he did it, for me. He killed for me, in front of half a dozen witnesses. A taboo for a taboo.

I'm still reeling a little, if I'm honest.

But that night unlocked something between us. He stopped pretending not to care. I stopped pretending, too. We finally started to see each other clearly, I think, for the first time.

He always cared. I see that now. And for a little while, our lives settled into something like peace. Something like happiness.

I didn't tell him I loved him then. He didn't say it either. I like to think it's because we didn't need to hear it to know, but I'm pretty sure it's really because we thought there was no rush. We thought we had time.

I should have known better. Even immortal creatures don't have eternity, and I'm not immortal.

It all started to fall apart on a Friday as the sun was setting. I was just waking up from a nap, because spending half your life working for vampires royally fucks up your sleep schedule. I was just reaching for my glasses when I heard the tell-tale sound of ravens' wings outside the little window in his crypt.

I crossed the room and flicked the curtain open, cautious in case there were any lingering rays of sunlight. But it was pitch dark outside, the fading blue light obscured further by the flurry of black feathers.

I thought we'd agreed to use the phones from now on, but maybe I was too asleep to hear it ring? I opened the window a crack to let a single raven inside so I could hear its message.

It was not good news. It was only one word, actually.

Run.

I froze in that moment, I'm ashamed to say. It was so unexpected, so out of left field. The assassins stopped years ago and we hadn't had a real, substantial threat at the house in so long. My instincts and my heart and my brain were all out of sync. One said to do what the message said. The next said to stay and protect him, them, my family. My brain tried to sort through and find some sort of middle ground. In the time that took, he was awake and at my back.

"What is it?" he asked. He sounded sleepy. I remember somehow having the space to feel frustrated, that I didn't get to enjoy his rumpled sleepiness, that I had to miss it to fight for our lives yet again.

I told him what the message had said. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"What are you still doing here, then?" he asked me. "Run!"

"But--"

"I will be fine. Please. Get out of here!" And I'll never be more ashamed of anything. But I did what he asked.

I ran.

[lilacmoon83]

Operation Castle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 10: Shocking Surprises, Pt

"Neal?" Emma squeaked.

"Emma…" he said. Clearly she had so many questions, but was also nearly speechless so she could only manage one word that they all wanted an answer to.

"How?" she asked, as the furie screeched bloody murder.

"Yeah…that's a long story. We probably should take care of this thing first. I have some questions myself," he replied, as Snow threaded an arrow and put one into the hellish creature's torso, which only made it scream more.

"I think I just made it madder," the raven haired beauty said.

"Well, it's a furie. It's probably here for them," David said, as he referred to Tamara and Greg, which was received with glares.

"He's not wrong," Neal agreed.

"Bae…" Rumple uttered, hardly able to keep the quiver from his voice, as he hobbled up to him. Neal smiled.

"Papa…it's really good to see you," he said. Rumple could only offer a watery smile.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"I'm inclined to agree with the Prince. Let it have these two," Rumple answered.

"Rumple…" Belle chided softly.

"She's right…we can't," Snow agreed.

"I don't know Mom…I think Dad has it right," Emma agreed. Neal was really surprised at that. He didn't expect Emma to be calling her parents Mom and Dad.

"Here we go with the rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers," Regina muttered. Snow bristled at her comment and gave her a side eye.

"What? It's a hell furie…it's not human and we don't even know how to kill it without letting it have what it came for," Regina said.

"I hate to say it…but she's right," David responded.

"Excuse me? Hello? We're right here…and you're talking about us like you're fine sacrificing us to this thing!" Tamara shouted.

"They're here for a blood penance! You two wanted to kill an entire town!" David said.

"What about her!? Maybe it's here for her. She activated the trigger!" Greg argued, as he pointed at Regina. The former Queen glared at him.

"We're not sacrificing anyone…there has to be another way," Snow suggested.

"Magic is the only other way…" Rumple offered, as he looked at his former student.

"I don't know what you're looking at me for…I don't have this figured out anymore than you do," Regina said, as they dodged the furie again.

"Emma!" David cried, as he headed right for her. Neal took a swipe at it with a thin metal rod he had found near the dumpster, but it knocked him away and dive bombed toward Emma.

"HEY!" David called, as he got its attention and Snow screamed, when the furie grasped her husband by the shirt with its sharp claws. It shrieked at him and he held his hands to his ears at the ear piercing, deafening cry.

"Charming!" Snow cried in fear. Greg smirked.

"Looks like it has someone to drag back to hell," he said, as she ran to attempt to rescue her husband.

"We have to do something!" Neal cried.

"Without magic…there's no releasing him. It will suck the life out of him and take him back to where it came from…the Underworld," Gold responded, which stunned Emma. She had found her parents and finally accepted them into those roles in her life and now she was going to lose her father? The same man that had been saving her life since the moment she had drawn breath. She felt something swelling in her; a determination and a love she was only beginning to discover. The ground cracked beneath her, glowing underneath her feet. Her arms felt very hot and the sensation moved to her hands.

"Emma…" Neal whispered and she looked at him.

"Look down," he said. She did and saw her hands glowing with bright white magic. On instinct, she let it go, pressing it toward the furie. She hit it and it screamed, as it was disintegrated by light magic. Her father fell to the ground and Snow was quick to pull him into her lap.

"Charming…wake up…" she pleaded, as she shook his shoulders and a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Don't you dare do this to me again…" she sobbed, as she did the only thing she knew might have a chance and kissed him passionately. His eyes opened widely and then closed again, as he kissed her back. She smiled and their lips parted, as he gazed up at her.

"What happened?" he asked, as she helped him sit up.

"Emma saved you…with magic," she answered, as she looked at their daughter with happy tears and pride in her eyes. Emma sank to her knees beside them and hugged them both.

"I just got you…I'm not losing you now," she said, stunning him and he looked at her.

"You figured it out…" he said. She shrugged.

"Sort of I think…" she replied, as she looked at her hands with uncertainty. Greg and Tamara looked at the whole scene with disdain. They couldn't wait to strike back by dropping another body.

"Not to interrupt, but we need to get off the streets," Casey said.

"Who's this?" Neal asked.

"Long story…tell you the whole thing back at Castle," Emma replied.

"Castle?" he asked.

"Part of the story," she replied.

"Wait…he can't come back to Castle," Casey objected.

"He's one of us…and he can," David argued, as he exchanged a glance with Gold.

"He's right…he's my son," Gold said. Casey looked at him for a moment and then nodded curtly. People had started to gather at the scene and they hurried to escape, as Greg and Tamara began reporting about the whole spectacle, intent on spinning this negatively toward them.

~*~

The three Knights in chainmail dismounted their horses, as they arrived at the mysterious Lake Nostros. They removed their helmets and approached the dry and seemingly swirling sand.

"So…this is the peculiar anomaly," the dark haired man said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," one of the other Knights by his side responded.

"What should we do?" the other Knight asked.

"I'm not sure yet…but if the answers we seek are not in this land, perhaps they are in another," the King said.

"For now, we return to Camelot and attempt to gather more intel about this. If it is a portal, then we must know if there is a way back. It does us no good if it is a one way trip," the King added.

"Yes Sire," one Knight said, as they put their helmets back on and mounted their horses.

~*~

Neal looked around, as they brought him down into Castle and a voice, barely above a whisper, uttered one word that he had been longing to hear.

"Dad…" Henry said. Neal's eyes watered, as he knelt down and scooped his son into a tight hug. Emma smiled, glad to see her son so happy and tears slipped down Snow's cheeks. David put his arm around her and kissed her hair, as she plucked their son up from the playpen they had set up.

"How?" Henry asked, as he sniffed.

"Long story…but we'll get to that," Neal replied, as more hugs were exchanged.

"Yes…if the story we've been told is true, then you fell through a portal and were presumed dead," Alivia said sternly.

"And you are?" Neal asked.

"Agent Alivia Becker and this is Agent Alex Casey. We're their NSA handlers," she replied.

"NSA?" he asked. Emma nodded.

"Not by choice…so I better start from the beginning," she said, as they sat down so they could tell him all that had happened since he fell through that portal three years ago…

~*~

August wandered the city and found his way to the inevitable library where he knew had a special room that housed particular books of stories about all the realms. It was the chosen spot in this realm to store them and the workers were only told a vague story about the texts being ancient historical documents. It should have been a guarded room, but understaffing and lack of knowledge about what was really housed there led to it only being protected by a lock and passcode. Neal cracked it long ago and had done intensive research there. But August had an inkling that he wouldn't need the passcode, for he had found something else in his travels years ago. The General hadn't even taken it away from him in captivity, because the item looked like nothing more than a benign pen and he had been allowed paper and pen in his cell.

But he knew it was more than that somehow and though he hadn't been able to make the pen work in the way he wanted, he was right about it when the keypad glowed in the presence of the pen and the door opened for him. He looked around to make sure no one saw him and slipped inside. He raised the lights and knew the NSA probably had someone in here trying to make sense of what was here. But they were careful not to put a guard on the room to raise public suspicion.

He approached the shelf and selected one book. It looked exactly like Henry's, but when he opened to the first page, it showed very different stories of other lands. He shelved one and pulled from the second shelf. He found this one to be blank and he looked at the pen in his hand. It glowed briefly and he put it to the paper, but the glow quickly faded and refused to write anything on this particular parchment. His heart sank a bit. The pen had not chosen him to be an author; an entity that few knew about. He had deemed from his research that there was one and the pen was passed along to those chosen with the task to record the history of the different realms. Chosen by who, he had no idea and he had found the pen, abandoned in a dark alleyway years ago, in Portland, Oregon of all places.

He had been very low at that time. He was an angry man and became frustrated when it seemed Emma had met someone. The pain was getting really bad and now he was uncertain if she would ever find her way to her parents. And thus, he would soon turn back to wood and that would be the end of him. The pain had been so intense on that night that he had wandered to a dark alleyway in hopes of purchasing something to ease the pain. He knew it was wrong, but at that point, he was certain that it didn't matter. If it was the end for him, then he wanted something to help numb the pain.

Instead of getting what he wanted, the dealer decided to mug him instead and assault him. As he fell to the dirty alleyway that night, with intense pain in his leg and a black eye, he wondered why the mugger hadn't just stabbed him and finished the job. It would have been mercy for him at that point. A blue glint caught his eye that wasn't swollen though and he felt a spark of hope. He crawled from his spot against one wall and scrambled to the other side. He grasped the pen in his hand and felt something else sticky on his hand. Blood…he determined by the metallic smell. He felt determination spark in him. It was a sign. He had to find out what this pen meant and more importantly, he had to find a way to get Emma back on track.

August's attention went back to the pen, as he came around from his little trip down memory lane. Once he learned the true significance of the pen, years of research later, it only raised more questions. There had been blood on it that night. Had the author been murdered? And if so, why hadn't the person taken the pen? Or was it just a random act and the assailant had no idea the pen had such significance? Either way, he had the author's pen and if it had chosen him, he could have fixed everything. Or perhaps not only fixed everything, but made everything better, especially in his favor. He sighed. His selfish ways was probably one reason the pen rejected and continued to reject him. The only way to fix anything was to find someone the author deemed worthy. It was a big variable. Whoever became the author could fix things for the better or make them far worse. He snorted. Perhaps he didn't want the responsibility, after all…

~*~

"Wow…so that's what happened to Storybrooke," Neal said, as they finished telling him everything. He kept smiling at the baby in Snow's arms too. A lot had changed and apparently the only reason any of them were awake and his father wasn't imprisoned was because the NSA had use for them. He didn't like that one bit and he could tell it made everyone else uneasy too. But there was no concealing himself from them either, because he refused to be away from his family any longer.

"So you were there? Where Storybrooke used to be?" Emma asked anxiously. He looked at the two agents.

"You might as well start explaining. You will either do it here or at NSA Headquarters and that won't be voluntary," Alivia said. Neal smirked.

"No need for the threats…and yes, I was where the town used to be. It's where I came thru," he replied.

"Thru? Like a portal?" Snow asked. He looked at all of them and Emma recognized that look. He was about to tell a lie, which meant he didn't want them to know something.

"Uh yeah…it took three years, but I managed to find a bean. After I fell through the portal, Mulan and Philip rescued me and nursed me back to health. They managed to get the bullet out and thankfully, it didn't nick an artery or any organs. It was just a flesh wound, so they were able to patch me up and make sure it didn't get infected," he explained. Rumple's eyes narrowed, as did Emma's. There were no beans left in the Enchanted Forest. Storybrooke was gone and who knew where Anton had ended up in New York.

"I thought beans were rare?" Alivia questioned.

"They are…Phillip is a King though. He has resources," Neal answered without missing a beat and she seemed to buy it.

"Question for you though…those woods are still crawling with agents after three years. Looking for something?" he questioned.

"That's classified," she retorted and he smirked again.

"So you've just been waiting around for three years to get back here?" Casey asked suspiciously.

"Do you have kids, Agent Casey?" Neal asked. The other man shifted in his seat.

"No," he answered.

"Then you wouldn't know this…but most parents, especially the ones in this room, would do anything to protect them and find them," Neal said, bringing soft smiles to all of them.

"I guess you're part of the team now…hope you can fight as well as they do," Casey said with a grunt.

"Who says I want to work for you?" Neal challenged and the other clenched his teeth.

"Who says you have a choice?" he challenged back.

"Fine…I guess if monsters are running around then you need us, but mind telling me why the hell Greg and Tamara are walking free?" Neal asked.

"Apparently they're working for a rogue agent of theirs," Emma answered.

"Oh…so you don't have as much control as it seems," Neal replied.

"We have enough…I've read your file, Mr. Cassidy. You never faced justice for your crimes. Grand Larceny…evading arrest…it sure would put a damper on this family reunion," Alivia threatened. He looked at her and smirked again.

"Fine…we'll play your game," he relented, as David rose from his seat.

"If there's nothing else today…then we'll be going," he said, as Bobby started to fuss. Casey nodded.

"The General wants a debrief first thing in the morning. The press is running wild with this," he said. They agreed and started out the back way.

"So…is there somewhere we can talk without them?" Neal asked. Emma smirked.

"My parents' house," she replied. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Parents?" he mused. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah…yeah, don't give me crap. Henry is giving me enough of it," she said. His smile widened into a grin.

"As he should," he agreed and she rolled her eyes again.

"Glad you're not dead…even if you're being annoying," she said. He smirked.

"Good to see you too," he replied, as they made the drive to Snow and David's house.

~*~

"The Internet is on fire with this latest, especially since there was a fissure left behind where Emma Swan was standing when she used her unholy magic," Tamara reported to their boss.

"Yes…and that fissure will soon become a problem. Stay on that story and make sure you blame her magic," Aza ordered.

"But she figured out magic…isn't that bad for us?" Greg asked.

"She has not figured it out. She barely knows how to use it and even less what to do with it," Aza answered.

"Then we better make a significant move before she figures it out or worse…the Queen does. She'll kill us all!" Greg ranted. Aza was silent for a moment, wondering if Mendel was more a liability than a useful tool. He handed a file to Mendel and he opened it, finding photos in it.

"Put your bloodlust to use then, Mr. Mendel," he said. Greg smirked and left to complete the task. One he would inevitably enjoy.

"And me?" Tamara asked.

"Mendel is a loose cannon, but useful for doing some dirty work. You on the other hand should know what magic is really about to do," Aza said.

"I knew it…I knew it was unholy. Emma made that fissure, didn't she?" Tamara replied.

"Oh yes…magic is only accelerating what the Queen started," he said.

"What she started?" Tamara questioned.

"The trigger…it's not a reset button and never was. Even the Dark One was sold this lie," Aza replied.

"If it's not a reset button…then what is it?" Tamara asked. He smirked in the darkness.

"It's a doomsday bringer," he answered. Her eyes widened.

"You mean like…the end of the world?" she asked.

"Exactly that. It brings the end and only the worthy will survive. You can be one of them. That trigger is bringing about an end and those who control it will get to control a new beginning. A new world…a utopia that we can build from the ash," Aza replied. That gave Tamara a chill. Somehow, a utopia created by this man could only ever be a dystopian nightmare. But if she was one of his Generals, she could be one of the fortunate architects in building herself a favorable future.

"And what about the magic infecting this world?" she asked.

"Once it destroys the world…it will be destroyed too and the world will be reborn into something pure and void of its evil," he answered. She smirked.

"That is something I'm very interested in being a part of," she said.

~*~

Once they were situated in Snow and David's living room, Emma looked at him intently.

"Okay…so the bean was a load of crap?" Emma asked. He smirked.

"How do you know I was lying?" he asked.

"Because I know you…what's going on?" she replied. He sighed.

"You're right…there's no bean. I didn't need one and came through the well," Neal revealed.

"How?" Snow asked.

"I'm not sure exactly…but it's still there," Neal replied.

"What do you mean it's still there? The portal?" David asked.

"Just that…Lake Nostros has become what seems like a permanent portal. I don't know how and I don't know why, but that's how I did it," Neal replied.

"Rumple…do you think the trigger did this?" Belle asked.

"There's no other explanation…we've seen many side effects from it already," he answered.

"Then…there's a way home. A way out of this," David said, as he looked at Snow with hopeful eyes.

"Except that the portal doesn't close, Dad. They could follow us," Emma reminded him.

"But would they? Would they with the full advantage of magic back in our land?" he asked, as he looked at Regina and Gold.

"He's right…we'd vanquish them if we could," she agreed.

"And we could ascertain why the portal is staying open and possibly remedy it," Rumple added.

"I get that we're eager to get away from the NSA…but do we really want to go back to the Enchanted Forest? This world has a lot of advantages," Neal said. At that moment, they heard Bobby giggle and a few of his toys started floating. Snow sighed.

"Oh…" Neal said, as he suddenly got it.

"We're afraid if they find out…they'll take him away from us," Snow said, as she picked him up and cuddled him, as David was by her side.

"Then the challenge is getting there. Lots of weird stuff is going on up there and they've got military and scientists all over the place," Neal said.

"Not to mention that most have no memories and even if they did, there's no way we can get everyone there without being stopped," Emma replied, as she saw her mother's shoulders sink.

"But maybe we can get you guys there with the baby," she added. But they seemed horrified by that.

"Without you?" David asked. She winced.

"We have to protect the baby," she replied.

"And we will…but we're not being separated from you or Henry again," Snow refuted. Emma smiled softly at that. They needed to protect the baby, but it was nice to know that they wouldn't sacrifice her to do it.

"There has to be another way…we always consulted my library in times like this," Belle said. That struck him and he looked at them.

"Library…that could be it," Neal said.

"A library?" Emma said skeptically.

"Not just any library…there's one here in New York and there's a room that houses a very interesting type of book…" he said, as he started telling them what else he knew.

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

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"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

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It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

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Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[sailorshadzter]

“You and Jon... Jon and you...” In which Arya finds out about Jonsa (no specific point in time. You decide!)

thanks anon!!!! hope its worth the wait lol

this one was pretty far back in my inbox.

send me asks!!

He’s kissing her so fiercely she cannot think for a moment that they’re in her solar, in a room any single person might walk inside without more than a knock or two. But truth was, she doesn’t care, and it wasn’t about to stop her now.  

Jon’s hands are roaming, one lingering at the small of her back, the other at her breast, his lips never once leaving hers. “Jon!” It’s she that breaks free, breathless, reckless, smiling as he comes back in again, the laugh that escapes her captured between their lips. “We have a meeting,” she reminds him as she pulls away once again, though this time his lips are at the soft expanse of her throat, his teeth sinking into the ivory skin, uncaring of the little bruises he’ll leave behind. She’s moaning softly, again lost to any other thought but him, and so she sinks into the moment and into him. 

It’s a moment later that his hands are coming around her, hefting her up onto the desk that’s littered with scrolls she’s left unread.  Days worth of ravens she knows she should be reading, allies she should be making, but there was no one but him, no one but the two of them in this very moment. In this one instance, they were as they had once been, as they’ve always wanted to be. “They can start without us,” Jon breathes into her ear, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “Or do it without us at all,” she’s laughing again, head thrown back as his lips trail the softest of kisses from her ear down to her collarbone, exposed only from his wandering hands that had loosened the laces of her gown a few minutes before.  

Just as he’s raising his mouth to meet hers once more, they both hear it, the halfhearted knock before the door begins to swing open. Even if Jon were to spring away, there would be no hiding what was happening in this very room, for beyond Sansa’s gown slipping from her shoulders, Jon’s doublet was cast aside and his white shirt was untucked and rumpled from her own hands. And so, they are both left there, lips swollen with kisses as the door opens and in comes Arya, her Stark colored eyes sweeping from one face to the other as the door falls closed behind her. 

“Arya!” She speaks first, sliding down from the desk, wishing with all of her heart that at least her gown were laced, for perhaps then they might explain away it all, but this... No, there was no hiding what they had been doing. And truthfully, there was a part of both of them that wished they didn’t have to.  

She can’t truly say she’s surprised. 

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed the close relationship Jon and Sansa had built, or the fact that they both seemed to disappear at the same time. Arya supposes there was always a part of her that knew, or at least suspected that there was something going on between then two of them. “You and Jon...” She says, gesturing from one to the other. “How long has this been going on?” She asks, tilting her head to one side, eyes falling on the sister she knows couldn’t tell a lie, even to save her own skin. 

They exchange a quick glance- do they even know? 

“When we took back Winterfell,” Jon says, answering honestly, or as honestly as he dares. Arya flicks her gaze to him and then back to Sansa, who nods, still clinging to his hand. Arya wonders if she even knows. She thinks about the things Sansa experienced, the awful things that took place both in King’s Landing and here in their own home- she knows that this must mean what she felt for Jon was true. That she was happy... And so was he. Truth was, that was enough for her. “Arya... We...” Jon speaks, but she shakes her head.  

“I imagine I found Jon to be quite ill, and the Lady of Winterfell was tending to his needs.” The realization of her words takes but a moment to dawn, and it is Sansa that smiles her thanks first, knowing their secret was safe with Arya. She turns to go, but stops for a moment, turning back to face the two people in this world that she loves most, thinking she might say something else, something profound, or even something she might have said had they all been kids again. She thinks better on it, for then she’s gone, but she’s smiling as she steps through the door; if they were happy, then certainly so was she.  

[kienava]

Randivor has me by the throat and won’t let go. Romance-heavy smut under the cut. 

_______

Everything Else

_______

Eivor couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a sound she often heard coming from herself outside of mead-soaked feasts or on the heels of a successful raid. Even then, in halls filled with drunken friends and by riverbeds lined with fallen enemies, there was always an air of performance, a twinge of bold, fanged cruelty that came from victory.

Not tonight, though. Not with Randvi.

Their bedchamber was not a raised stage or a proving ground. There was no performance to be put on here.

Randvi’s touch was sharp, precise as a whetted blade splitting flesh. Where no blood spilled, a more delicate sensation lingered on Eivor’s scars. With muscles spent and nerves singed by a rush not unlike the storm of battle, Eivor could only gaze up at the ceiling. And laugh.

“What is it, my love?”

Eivor would never tire of this. Odin’s halls of glory were nothing to the glow of Randvi’s skin.

“Look up,” Eivor said. She pointed lazily. “There’s a face in the wood.”

Randvi settled the hand that had been tracing a tattoo on Eivor’s bare hip. Her palm burned against it as an ember.

“A face?” Randvi said, skeptical.

“Look,” Eivor repeated.

Careful to keep her head where it was on Eivor’s chest, Randvi glanced up. “Where?”

“Right above us. See the eyes and the mouth?”

“Is it meant to be frowning?”

“Hm. It does look displeased. I’m afraid I cannot empathize.”

Randvi pushed herself up on one elbow, taking her warmth with her. She stared down at Eivor, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was a familiar expression, one she could not resist making whenever Eivor arbitrated a ridiculous quarrel with a perfectly straight face. “Have you not noticed this face before?”

The dregs of a laugh caught in Eivor’s chest, rumbling deep and pleasant. “Sleeping in my own bed used to be more a privilege than an expectation.”

“Hm...” Randvi’s fingers trailed up to Eivor’s ribs. “Maybe you’re just spending more time on your back nowadays.”

Eivor’s breaking grin was interrupted swiftly. Randvi kissed her, long and full, the heat of her skin enough to melt tension that was already hours since dissolved.

“I am hardly opposed,” Eivor muttered.

Randvi’s hands betrayed no hurry - Ravensthorpe was well-stocked, thanks to recent river raids, and the Ostara Festival was coming to a close. Everyone was happy and drunk, off dancing until the sun came up and telling stories.

“Have you not had your fill for one night?” Eivor teased.

“We have many nights to make up for, darling.” Randvi’s mouth landed on the scarred line of Eivor’s throat. It was as a feather, tickling and tantalizing. “And I would expect Ravensthorpe's prized drengr to have more stamina.”

“Sweetness and salt, all at once,” Eivor prodded, head lolling back on a rumpled pillow. “You are a difficult woman to argue with.”

“Good.”

The woman with the wildling soul was pleased to reclaim her own freedoms. Time for exploration was something she treasured, she was already well-versed in traveling south.

Her gaze burned from between Eivor’s legs, twin blue flames as if the sky itself were alight. Eivor could let it consume her, she thought, and die breathless and content.

Randvi could hold her own in any fight, but she needed no blade to take a warrior apart.

When a shiver struck and made Eivor’s legs quake, Randvi did not miss it. “Who would have guessed the great Eivor Wolf-Kissed would fall to such a lightness?”

It was unusual, compared to how it had been with others. Strength was Eivor’s native language, something to strive for and admire. She’d always met opponents and lovers with the same shows of force.

But never Randvi. Hers was not an arena where power was proven with dominance.

Where drengrs roared and raised their fists, Randvi’s voice and hands were soft. Battles chewed steel and shattered bone, but this was a quiet and sure balm to the most harrowing of wounds unseen.

How amusing that Eivor knew she had wanted this for so long, yet she never minded when Randvi took her time.

Between gasps, Eivor asked, “Tell me - Randvi - when did you know?”

Randvi shifted as water, fingers flowing to where her mouth had barely left. “I know many things. You'll have to be more specific.” Her lips pressed together, shining into a smirk.

Eivor managed to think her question into form. “When did you know you wanted this?”

As the moon commanding a ruthlessly gentle tide, Randvi’s assured smile waned into softness. “I’ve always known, Eivor. Since the first moment I saw you. So hardened, so fierce. I wished to know what was underneath it all.”

“Oh? And so you - ah.” Bold to try and taunt from such a compromised and vulnerable position, but Eivor did not relent. “So you always wished to be as a dagger... to my sheath?”

Randvi paused - a warning. She sat upright, but her fingers remained still.

The way she regarded Eivor, as a wolf might a sheep - it sent sparks up the taut column of the sheep’s spine.

“A wise woman can make use of any tool, I think,” Randvi said finally. She knew she’d won the point even before her fingers dipped and curled, a flourish as graceful as a spinning silver sword.

Eivor’s back arched, and she was as a sheath, seeking. She conceded, “And wise you are.”

Fortunately, Randvi loved hearing such things, especially from Eivor, and it was a sure way to bring out a sly grin that thinly shielded a deceptively fragile part of her heart. If there was one thing Randvi deserved, it was praise. She’d gone unappreciated for too long - even a moment was a sin - and yet she never shied from her post at the heart of their town. It would never have become more than a pile of bricks and stray ships without her guidance.

“The oldest trees must envy you,” Eivor went on.

“Must they?”

Eivor would not have the chance to say more if Randvi was allowed to continue, the waves building. So Eivor sat up to see her face-to-face, pulling her into a narrow straddle and kissing her, first on the forehead.

“For all their years, you are sager,” Eivor said.

She took Randvi’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm.

“For all their strength, you hold firmer. And for all their roots,” one last lingering kiss over her heart, beating wild, sealed by the same steady, guided palm, “yours run deeper.”

Randvi said nothing for a moment, her expression one of pure, quiet awe. Then, she shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on Eivor’s. “Your poet’s soul is a dangerous thing.”

Eivor took her by the waist, revering the way she could look up at this woman who put the staunchest, most resilient trees to shame. “Even so, when the possessor is in truth the one possessed?”

“Especially then, you minx.” Randvi bumped their noses together, a novel gesture that Eivor was suddenly very fond of.

“I am afraid I cannot offer an apology.”

Randvi was the one to initiate their next kiss, though it was as fleeting as a bird over a river. “It is a beautiful thing, my love. I would accept no apology for it.” Her voice grew stern as she continued. “But nor do I possess the possessor in question.”

Eivor needed only gesture to their position. “Ah, but you do have me, do you not?”

“Cheeky,” Randvi chastised. She poked the side of Eivor’s face for good measure, and her touch trailed down to the jaw. “If that is the frame, then you are mine only insofar as you are your own.”

“Then I am yours - and my own, and the Raven’s - entirely.”

Randvi hummed, considering this, playfully cryptic.

“Do you find these terms of alliance agreeable?” Eivor joked.

“Ah, is this how you made us so many friends?”

“Well, these Saxons are less stubborn with their bellies full of mead and their mouths full of--”

With a kiss, Randvi cut her off and confirmed their jest of a treaty.

“I have made but one pledge in this way,” Eivor said for the sake of clarity. “And it is to the woman I call my wife.”

Randvi would have embraced her again and sent them both toppling onto the bed furs, but Eivor held her rooted in place.

Eivor’s hand snuck between them, finding its purchase as Randvi settled and relaxed against honed callouses. She had no qualms with the roughness - quite the opposite, actually. They built a pace together, painstaking, but with all of agony’s antonyms. Randvi’s breaths came faster, shallower, as she clung to the unwound remnants of Eivor’s dark braids and a shaky imitation of control.

“I must ask you,” Randvi exhaled all at once.

“Anything,” Eivor interrupted.

“Tell me when you knew.”

“That is not a question.”

Randvi nipped at Eivor's neck - not wolf-kissed, this time, but something close. “Petulant.”

“When did I know, or when did the gods know?” Eivor asked. Rarely did she have such a perfect set of conditions to toy with the greatest strategist the snows had ever produced.

“Either. Both,” Randvi managed.

“I cannot speak for the gods.”

Randvi grasped at the smooth muscle of Eivor’s back, blunt nails scraping across the flat planes of her shoulder blades. Her breath came hot against Eivor’s ear, along with her next words: “When did you know you loved me?”

The drengr’s iron resolve to taunt and pester shattered, armor falling away to reveal the poet’s vulnerable heart.

“I must be honest, you were the faster study between us, Randvi,” Eivor began. “I could not name the thing that pulled me to you, even when it was like a vine around my marrow, so ingrained that I could not walk without feeling its tug.”

“More,” Randvi said. “Tell me more.”

“Everywhere I went, I heard the flowers sing of your beauty. The trees whispered about your wisdom. Great dark clouds and lightning proclaimed your unwavering strength and loyalty to all those you care for.”

Randvi said no words, but she was not quiet.

“And these were pieces, pieces - only fractured shards of a reflection.”

“Eivor...”

“I did not realize they were my own heart-thoughts the world had given voice...”

A barely stifled moan.

“Until the wind itself called me back to you.”

With that, a broken groan slipped from Randvi’s throat and her rigid fingers dug in, bruising, driven by the sheer desperation for release. Her purgatory lasted, fueled by a merciless hand, until - “Eivor!” - less a name than a surrender to catharsis.

Eivor was braced for the collapse, easily keeping Randvi from falling limp into their bed. Somewhere in Eivor’s mind, there was a witty crack brewing about stamina and poetry and how’s that for wisdom, but the peaceful flow of Randvi’s breathing as it steadied and deepened was too lovely to cut short.

Eventually, Randvi righted herself, every inch of her covered in a fresh, fine dew.

“And you thought I was fierce,” Eivor said. She started to brush a piece of sweat-stuck hair from Randvi’s forehead, but the distance between them vanished quickly.

Randvi was not capable of sloppiness in anything she did, but this - crashing their mouths together while still working to catch her own inhales - was the closest she ever came. “I stand by it,” Randvi sighed as she rested her forehead against Eivor’s.

“I’ve thought of another question for you,” said Eivor.

“Hm?”

“Are you trying to wake the whole town?”

Randvi’s laugh was a delicate wisp, but not lacking bite. “And just how many times have you cried my name tonight?”

“You assume I can count that high?”

“If either of us wakes the town tonight, it will be you, my love.” Her thumb stroked the sharp corner of Eivor’s jaw before another promising kiss. “And that is as much a threat as it is a vow.”

“So be it,” Eivor said, lying back, arms splayed freely by her head. “Let them know for whom their jarlskona bends the knee.”

***

[cross-posted on AO3]

[foreverfamilyforevervongola]

I love your writing! I was wondering if you might write something where Fran finds out about Lambo sometimes being able to get cuddles from Levi and him going to make fun of Levi by jokingly (but also maybe the tiniest bit genuinely) being like “where are my cuddles?”

With his keys dangling from one finger, Fran glanced at the grandfather clock stationed in the front foyer. If he didn't leave for school in ten minutes he was going to be late. He didn't care about punctuality, but Xanxus would not be happy if he received yet another call from the school's office reporting his tardiness.

Also, he had a group project to present in second period, and Xanxus would also be furious if he skipped out on that. Academic excellence was unfortunately expected of him.

It was sometimes a pain being a genius.

He would already be out the door if it weren't for one, rather important thing--his partner for the project had slept over and Fran hadn't seen any sign of him.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and fired off a text.

'If you're not downstairs in three minutes I'm assuming you're dead and leaving without you.'

Lambo came rushing down the staircase two minutes later, his raven hair tussled and sticking up in all directions. His sweater was rumpled and he hopped down the last few steps, wrangling on a sock as he went.

"Thanks for joining me," said Fran sarcastically.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" demanded Lambo.

Fran shrugged. "I'm not your keeper."

"I don't even have time to eat breakfast," grumbled Lambo.

"Get something from the vending machine at school."

The thought of having chocolate bars and prepackaged cookies for breakfast lifted some of Lambo's irate mood. "All right. Were you really going to leave without me?"

"No. But I knew you'd come running. It's the same trick Xanxus uses on me." Fran paused. "Except my 'get your ass moving' text was nice. Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"I slept in Levi's room," he replied, running his fingers through his hair to try and tame the curls.

Fran raised a brow. "He must have been dead asleep not to hear you sneak in."

"I didn't sneak." Lambo pulled his phone from his sweater pocket and tapped at the screen. He angled it towards Fran, so that a picture of Lambo snuggled in Levi's arms was fully displayed.

Levi's eyes were closed, and Fran was certain he had no idea Lambo had snapped a picture, for the phone would not have survived. "Send me a copy of that." Fran hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and started for the front doors. "I could always use more blackmail material."

...

Hours later, when Fran returned home from school, he immediately set out in search for Levi. He found the man in the drawing room, his feet propped up on a burgundy footstool.

"Hey," drawled Fran. "I've got a bone to pick with you."

Levi glanced up from laptop. "This is the first time I've seen you all freaking day. What the hell's your problem?"

Fran moved to stand behind the wing back chair. He leaned over Levi's shoulder and extended his phone. Upon seeing the brightly coloured photo of him holding Lambo against his chest, Levi swore.

Fran shifted before Levi could snatch his phone and bash it to pieces. "It's Lambo's phone you should break," he said with a snicker. "He's the one who took it."

"I'll kill him," snarled Levi. "Delete it, runt."

"But it's so sweet." Fran widened his eyes dramatically. "Besides, it's no secret that he's your favourite kid. You don't cuddle with anyone else like that."

"I don't have favourites. No one else bothers me about it like he does," countered Levi.

Fran smirked. "So if I start bothering you, does that mean I get to cuddle with you?"

As sneering as Fran tried to be, it was not a facade that fooled his family if his heart wasn't in it. Levi rolled his eyes and said, "Get over here."

When Fran was within reach, Levi pulled the seventeen-year-old into his lap, one hand holding his laptop out of the way. Fran buried his chin against Levi's shoulder, contentment humming through him when Levi's arm tugged him closer.

"Idiot," muttered Levi, balancing his computer on the arm of the chair.

"Is that meant for me or Lambo?"

Levi snorted. "Both of you. And if the two of you don't get rid of those damn pictures, you'll find yourselves six feet under."