#she purposefully puts her daughter through hell

[lesbiandreamriso]

And I’ll say this Princess Patt. Fuck you, they will never make me like you and the ring conversation was not the compromise you think it was.

[dollediary]

embarrassed.

pairings ❥ jake x eventual yandere!fem!reader

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ descriptions of school violence, bullying, cursing, assault, descriptions of murder, eventual smut, etc

synopsis ❥ after following his girlfriend’s bully victim to the train station one day, jake sees her as human for the first time and becomes intrigued by her. he makes it his mission to befriend her, unaware how much that would change the trajectory of his and everyone’s lives around him.

word count ❥ 3.0k

taglist: open just ask!

ONE.

“watch where you're going, you stupid bitch," soyeon, one of the popular mean girls sneered as she purposefully tripped y/n, making her fall to the ground on her already bruised knees. it's been worse. well, they've done worse; just thinking about what they did to her the week before made her solemnly look at the fresh cigarette burn marks on her arm.

she never had the strength to fight back because their group outnumbered her. she was on her own, susceptible to any and everything they decided to do. pulling her sleeve down, she shook the feeling of dread away not wanting to remind herself that this wasn't just some hell she could get out of once god told her that she passed the test of faith. it was reality. and she stopped believing in god a long time ago. he wasn't going to save her, nobody was.

she let out a sigh getting up. just push through today, it'll be over soon, she told herself. then you can go home and be okay.

but she hated home. no one was ever there. she had no parental figures, they were always out on business trips and they had no time to make more kids to keep their lonely daughter company. she hated the silence there, but it was the only thing that brought her some sort of peace lately.

after school was the worst, as usual. y/n grabbed her bag and quickly tried to make her way to the train station. she made a turn to an alley to make things quicker, but to her misfortune, the remaining people in the group of bullies happened to be waiting for her. she put her head down as they cooed for her to come closer.

she noticed a few of the boys were holding buckets filled with water. toilet, she assumed. she trudged her way toward soyeon who'd made it there before she could, only to receive a harsh slap to her face, one that made her whole head turn to the side. it left an unforgettable sting as she shut her eyes trying not to cry.

“next time walk faster, we came at the same time and it's damn annoying waiting for you. who do you think you are?" she scolded like an evil mother, looking toward some people who were behind y/n . suddenly the back of her knees were kicked in, making her fall to the ground. she winced in pain as all of the impact was on her knees which had already taken so much damage.

soyeon let her friends spit on y/n, smack her, kick her, and do just about anything else that they knew would inflict pain on her. she watched with a smirk seeing y/n be subjected to all of it. "now," she walked closer to the girl, lifting her chin to make her look her in the eyes. "the finale.. ‘cause who wants to be here wasting all day on foreign trash?" she snapped her fingers, signaling for the boys to pour the toilet water on y/n one by one. some even had pieces of tissue in them. y/n hoped that they weren't used, though she was sure they wouldn't be that kind to her.

it was embarrassing, all the laughs she heard coming from them. it was sick how much they took joy in being so terrible. "come on guys, i'm still grounded. i can't be home any later than this, my parents will kill me," y/n heard one of soyeon's friends say before she heard the boys' groans followed by several footsteps walking away from her.

she laid still on the ground, not bothering to move. it hurt too much to do so. she closed her eyes in an attempt to trap the tears that were ready to escape, as she lowly sniffled away some of the burdens she'd kept inside.

it was moments like these where her loneliness was neutral. on one hand, she was glad to be alone because being alone meant peace. on the other hand, it was just another reminder that she was just that: alone.

one student who was with the group of friends had decided to stay back. it was jake, soyeon's boyfriend. he had never personally participated in the bullying, but he didn't dare to stop it as he didn't want the same treatment for himself.

he walked over to her carefully, which she didn't notice all too much. she was still in a daze, not paying attention to the world around her. she'd usually get like this after they were finished with her. sighing, she finally let her tears slip though it wasn't really in her control by then. small sniffles filled the air as she didn't bother to mask her pain anymore. it concerned jake even more. he tapped her shoulder, making her flinch.

"are you okay?" he asked. are you okay? am i okay? was she okay? y/n let the question sit in her head, she sat there thinking carefully about it, analyzing, wondering if it was genuine, how she could answer, or if she should even respond at all.

she looked up from her focus toward the ground and into the boy's eyes. they held a look of concern as he tried to read how she was feeling. she was mesmerized, he was absolutely beautiful. but, she didn't say anything only responding with a nod as she got up quickly, not wanting to cause herself any more trouble.

she knew exactly who he was. that was the problem. she knew who he was and she didn't want to talk to him. anyone but him. anyone but him and his stupid fucking group of friends. i hate them. i hate all of them, she thought as she walked away to the train station, not sparing him a second glance.

he tilted his head and quietly followed behind her, pulling his hoodie up so as to not be seen by anyone who might know him as they made their way to the train station. he had ulterior motives for riding it today, maybe, but he could easily excuse it by saying he needed to take the train home.

when they got on the train, he followed y/n to the very back of it. it was the same spot she always led herself to. she always went straight there because it was the only empty section at that hour. it was never really with the idea to avoid people, though it wasn't like anyone would want to be around her anyways. she put her bag in between her legs as she sat down, unzipping it as she reached for the reusable ice pack that she'd recently bought for her bruises.

she sighed in momentary content, closing her eyes as she felt the coldness against her skin. her muscles relaxed and she became less tense as she moved the ice where it needed to be once each bruise had its designated care time.

jake watched quietly from the corner, seeing how calm she looked. for a second, he saw her as human. not that he hadn't before, but he was now realizing she existed outside of the treatment she endured. he felt bad.. worse than he had earlier. he got up from his seat and shortened the distance between them, sitting next to her.

feeling the slight wind that announced his presence, she opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling herself tense up again. he noticed and put his arms up defensively. "i’m not gonna hurt you,” he says as he reached into his pocket and pulled out 20,000 won and handed it to her. she looked at the money in his hand before looking away.

"for the troubles, heh," he awkwardly sat it on her lap.

“you don't need to buy my silence," she assured him, her voice holding a sadness in it. "the school won't do anything. i couldn't tell even if i wanted to," she shakily picked the money up and handed it back to him, then got up getting ready to move to a different seat. she didn't want anything to do with this guy especially given his status.

however, as she was about to walk away, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to the seat she was in. she stiffened and closed her eyes, preparing for what he would do. a punch, a kick, a slap.. anything. she was anticipating it, but nothing happened. she opened her eyes to see him sighing and shaking his head. "just sit here. you're making me feel bad."

not wanting to disobey soyeon's boyfriend, she nodded and looked forward, trying her best to be calm. "i’m jake," he said, breaking the silence. "jake shim.” she nodded, not responding. she knew him. everyone did.

"and you're.....y/n, right?" he asked, to which she only responded with another nod. "we're in the same grade, so we're probably the same age...." he trailed off, making her look at him from the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what he would say. "let's be friends," he offered her a smile.

how could one simple sentence throw y/n off so much? be friends? was he delusional, naïve, or just willingly ignorant. sooyeon's boyfriend, her school bully's boyfriend, thinks there's even a possibility of them being friends? was he just trying to fool her?

"why would i want to be friends with you?" her words came out with more attitude than she had intended, and she almost regretted it, but he seemed to understand why she had responded in such a way. throwing his hands up, a small smile and laugh left his lips. y/n quickly looked away so as to not stare at the sight in front of her.

"i can't give any good reasons why, but i also can't give any as to why not," he responded, knowing it was a lie. the list of reasons to avoid each other was more than a handful, he knew that much.

"it would be outlandish." her sentence of rejection was short. it didn't need much word anyway because they both already knew why. he purses his lips in thought. he didn't like being rejected. even if she had good reasons to, he still couldn't quite understand why she would deny him. the silence left a blank atmosphere as y/n sank into her mind again.

jake took that moment to look at her. she was an eyesore, like the human embodiment of grief. and the more he sat with her, the more he became intrigued by the idea of her. a struggling foreigner suffering from bullying, but bullying done by the girl and friends he loved. they were worlds apart; it made him curious. he wanted a glimpse into her world.

"you're lonely," he says, bringing her back into her body again as she freezes up. "and anybody could see that you're like a really, really sad person. so why would you deny friendship when it's so obvious that you need it?" his words sting. it was the kind of internal sting that spread slowly throughout her entire body, the kind that gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she wasn't sure how to handle it.

tearfully, she scoffs, turning her head away from him as she stayed silent doing everything in her power not to break down. was this his intentions? was he sent by sooyeon to further humiliate her? what could she have possibly done wrong in her past life to deserve torment even after her bullies left? it wasn't fair.

it had been only a few seconds of silence since he'd spoken, but she felt like she needed to end it. she was weak, everyone knew, but it didn't mean that he had any right to just throw it in her face like she didn't know it already. he didn't deserve that luxury. taking a silent but deep breath, she turns to him. "i’m right, right?" he chuckles lightheartedly with a smile, but it fades upon seeing her lack of amusement for it.

"i’ve made it this far without one, i’ll make it further without one, too," was all she said. of course, there was more she wanted to say. there was always more to say, but she didn't say it. even though she wanted to be rude, belittle him, or do anything to make him feel as miserable as his clique always made sure she always felt, she couldn't. in the end, he was soyeon’s boyfriend. it wasn't a fight she was going to win. so instead, she gets up and grabs her bag, thanking no god for making the train stop. right on cue, they’d reached their destination, meaning she could finally escape her troubles before she'd have to endure them again tomorrow.

he got up as well, casually swinging his bag over his shoulder. she thought of what she wanted to say to him despite knowing she wouldn’t say anything at all. she walked off of the train, not bothering to check if he was doing the same as she quickly found herself lost in the crowd, a feeling of tranquility engulfing her as she basked in the feeling of being invisible amongst the people around her.

the train stations were a safe place for her. she enjoyed everyone's complete disregard for her existence. they were too busy worrying about getting to where they needed to be to pay her any mind, so she could hide alongside them and pretend she was normal.

but the act was always short-lived, reality making its presence known the second she'd get home to the empty apartment she resided in. taking her shoes off at the door, she let her bag drop down next to her feet before kneeling to unzip it and get out the papers and books she needed to do work on. it was no use. they were all wet and the air conditioning reminded her just how disgusting she was; her clothes were still damp from the water, making her feel burdened to exist in her body.

she put her homework down on the floor, taking a walk of shame to the bathroom as she ran a shower for herself, leaving the room while the water offered soothing background noise to echo in the house.

walking over to her parents' room, opening the door as if expecting someone to be in there, but, of course, the room remained lifeless. the bed was made, and everything was where it needed to be, though there wasn't much to be in place in there anyway. her parents never had the opportunity to truly make the room their own. they just weren't home enough. and they still wouldn't be for another few weeks, in the unlikely scenario that their business trips wouldn’t get extended again. even then, they would change nothing. they never do.

she wanted so badly to walk into their room today. she still wanted to do what she could of her homework on their bed and pretend they were there helping her. it was what she did that on most days after school: playing pretend in there. but she was damp, and dirty, and gross. being on their bed in this condition meant ruining what was left of them. and if she ruined the blankets, she'd have to wash away the last thing her parents left behind of their presence.

she closed the door without a word and journeyed her way into the kitchen. maybe she would try to eat again tonight. she took a scoop of rice out of the rice bag she’d bought awhile back and poured it into a bowl to clean it. there was no need to prepare any more rice because she already had countless bowls in the refrigerator that she could just reheat from nights before, but she ignored it as she felt making everything fresh would encourage her to actually eat.

even after preparing fresh rice, soup, and chicken, her stomach still wasn't signaling any sense of hunger or even a small desire to eat. she sighed, just another meal to package and put away. she opened the fridge in hopes of finding room to put it. there was barely any at that point, but she managed. she knew she would have to clean it one day, but she had no motivation now.

showering in her condition felt like a punishment. the heat irritated her bruises, both new and old, and it only burned the rest of her skin while she washed up. it used to be something that would bother her more, but after everything she'd gone through at that point, the heat only felt like a slap to the wrist.

looking at herself in the mirror after the shower was a numbing experience. she would often reminisce about how she used to look before she started going to this new school. back in her home country, she was beautiful. accepted. loved. even if it wasn't by her parents, she was happy. now there was nothing and no one there for her, and the stress from that was apparent on her face. she no longer had the glow she used to. she no longer smiled. even now she found it hard to take care of herself. what was the point anyways?

when she finally got the chance to lay in bed, her whole body welcomed its comfort as she sank into the soft mattress, wishing it could just swallow her whole. there were a lot of simple things in life y/n came to be thankful for, but being able to sleep was something she truly loved. not being awake was all she could ask for. and though she didn't believe in a god anymore, she often found herself praying to not wake up. tonight would be no different as she closed her eyes, the air conditioner being the only sound left in the quiet house helping her drift off to sleep.

MASTERLIST | NEXT

[heylittleriotact]

It's Snippet Sunday Wednesday (because time is arbitrary soup and making your own rules is fun!)

I have been snippet-ed-ed by the ever wonderful, ever charming, ever hilarious @thefallenangelsgang and hiatus doesn't mean No Writing At All Ever. No. NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER.

Anyway, this is a portion from a WIP document that's lovingly titled "UNUSED" and it's taken on a life of its own and I'll probably finish it and post it as a oneshot at some point.

It's part of a story about the one time back in their adventuring days when Senna decided that the best way to help their cleric friend was to drug her into unconsciousness at the dinner table.

Enjoy!

(Also, forever thanks to @allofthebarks for the absolute joy that is Nayeli <3)

The next evening, Senna sat at a table in a secret demiplane with Kali, Ennic, Nayeli, and her father, Malek: the hulking Efreeti they had freed from the dreadful prison in the fire plane where he had languished for the entirety of his daughter’s life until very recently. 

Upon his return to the inn the night before, Senna had spoken with Ennic and Kali while Nayeli was doing her evening prayers and the three had hatched a plan: bring Nayeli to her father’s safehouse and somehow talk her into staying with him while they ventured to the hells to deal with the matter of her contract… do everything they could to hang the fact that she had a lifetime full of memories to make with her absent father over her head and hope that it was enough to guilt her into sitting this one out. 

It was a terrible idea, and arguably opened her to knowingly breaching the contract if she agreed to it - which she wouldn’t, judging by what Senna knew of the stubborn cleric by now - but no one else needed to know that. 

All that mattered was that they were here, around this table, sharing a sumptuous feast from Malek’s magical pantry as father and daughter continued to acquaint themselves amongst cheerful company. Wine was poured, truths were told, jokes were made and memories too. 

Timeless as this plane was, hours flew by in effortless enjoyment. It was hard to come by guiltless laughter and frivolity for the four thrown-together adventurers these days. Senna found himself enjoying the novelty of well-wasted time with others… a feeling he hadn’t felt deserving of in centuries. 

But there was still work to be done. 

He flipped his silken golden hair over his shoulder with one hand and reached over the table, making to nudge Ennic’s scaled hand away from the plate of massive olives - one of the many delectable treats on the table. “S’cuse me, your lordship.” A jesting mockery of the white dragonborn’s proud noble heritage. 

“Hey now!” Ennic chided, the air around his nostrils clouding as he huffed with indignance. 

Senna popped an olive in his mouth, meeting his scaled companion’s glacial eyes purposefully as he slid the fruit over his tongue and delicately gnawed at the soft flesh, stripping it away from the pit with his molars. 

Kali was pouring herself another glass of wine. Nayeli was speaking loudly to her father, her hands flashing through the air as she regaled him with some tale. Malek stared at her, attention rapt - taking in every word, every motion, every breath of his daughter as if she might vanish into dust any moment.

“You seem… tense,” Senna said, lifting his hand up to draw the naked pit from his mouth, watching the dragonborn’s eyes follow the path of his fingers all the way from his lips to the bowl where the other pits were piled up. His left hand popped the cork from the vial he had procured the night before and as he dropped the pit in his right hand, his left extended over the table in a precise, fluid movement. It passed over Nayeli’s cup of wine - one, two - then back to him, his fingers snagging another olive, the half empty vial secreted in his palm. “Want to talk about it?” He flashed Ennic a devastatingly coy smile. 

Ennic squinted then rolled his eyes, picking up his cup of passionfruit juice and swirling it with dignity. “Ha-ha. Mister I-Hate-Rich-People-And-Look-Good-Doing-It-Because-I’m-A-Pretty-Elf trying to bully me around because of my upbringing. Soooo predictable!” He took a sip and pursed his lips defiantly at Senna. 

Senna arched a brow and chuckled. “I only wanted an olive. You’re the one that made it personal.” He made a point of drawing his lower lip through his teeth, earning a faint rush of pink that sashayed across Ennic’s snout. Next to the dragonborn, he marked the movement of Nayeli taking a big drink of her wine - she was well in her cups and well past the polite sipping she’d been doing earlier. She slammed it back on the table, spilling a few drops before launching back into her story. 

“Look, I don’t know you three the way you know each other, but sometimes I get the sense that you’re not telling me everything.” 

Senna smiled drolly around the second olive, eyes lidded as he stretched his bare arms up over his head luxuriously. “How does one put a definition to something as inescapably broad as ‘everything’ though?” He worked the meat from the olive once more and maneuvered the pit with his tongue to the front of his mouth where he gripped it very, very gently with his incisors. 

Ennic’s rose-pink blush deepened, and his eyes darted away. “Stop that.” 

The pit fell into Senna’s waiting palm and he chucked it effortlessly into the bowl. “Stop what? I’m only eating olives. I didn’t realize that was a crime in this demiplane.”

Ennic’s neck frills flared, quivering slightly and throwing off flecks of frost as his claws dug into the table and he leaned over the banquet to Senna. He opened his mouth to retort at the exact same time Nayeli very loudly declared, “There were orgies in Sune’s temple, but not as many as you would think!” She shot to her feet, downing another mouthful of wine and pointing at nothing somewhere over Malek’s shoulder. “The lookie-loo tourists were verrrrrry disappointed… buncha perverts…” She frowned, swayed on her feet… looked at Senna. The frown became a glare. “You dare–” 

And then she collapsed back down to the bench and folded face first onto the table. Her goblet rolled from her hand onto the table, its contents staining the weathered wood. 

The room turned crimson, then white. Steam billowed off of Ennic as the windowless sanctuary they occupied became unbearably hot in an instant.

“WHAT?!” Malek was on his feet, fists the size of swans slamming onto the table. “MURDERERS!” He roared, white flame blazing from his eyes and curling up his brow.

Huge. He was huge. His arms were as wide around as Senna and he towered over his daughter’s so-called friends, sparks spilling from his mouth as he looked to each of them as if deciding who to roast first.

At the sudden sound of Nayeli hitting the table, Kali had sprung away from the bench, pressing her back to the wall and holding her daggers before her defensively, lip curled in a fanged snarl as her pointed tail cut through the air around her. 

Ennic was staring with an awestruck expression at Malek, and Senna clambered over the table to stand between the enraged Efreeti and the dragonborn, hands held high.

“No! No murder. She’s fine - just sleeping. I swear.” 

This. This was why Ennic and Kali couldn’t know of his plan: better he be subjected to a molten ass-kicking at the hands of an extremely pissed off Efreeti than all of them. 

He ducked under the fiery fist that was barreling towards his face and nudged a pile of rolls off of a silver platter, kicking it up into his hand as he straightened. “She’s fine, see?” He knelt on the table and with deliberately exaggerated tenderness turned Nayeli’s head so she was no longer facedown on the table. He held the platter in front of her mouth and angled it so Malek could see her breath fog the polished surface. 

This appeared to at least somewhat quell Malek’s rage as he appeared to be gripping the edge of the table in a concerted effort to restrain himself from throwing another punch at Senna. The wood under his fingers sizzled and blackened. 

“You had better have a very good explanation as to why you think you can come into my home and poison my daughter in front of me and leave this place alive.” Sparks flew from his mouth with each word. “Explain.” He demanded in a tone that promised painful death should the explanation not satisfy. 

No pressure tags if you feel like it or if you have anything cooking: @allofthebarks, @inkymoonbunny, @roguishcat

[coconutcreambun]

A Drink After Dusk [Pt. 12]

Paring: Severus Snape x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of abuse, not proof read

Summary: Y/n Bathulman, the mysterious daughter of a powerful pureblood Slytherin transfers to Hogwarts as a third-year student. Catching the eye of Severus and the Marauders after leaving Hogwarts late at night, rumors start to go around the school. What could she be hiding? Maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye.

ABBR: Y/n (your name)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: decided to pick this up again, wrote this at like 2 am

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus sat on his bed, mentally kicking himself. He was going to give you a piece of his mind after you disappeared back at Hogsmeade. He was fuming when he saw you back in the common room and was ready to lay it out on you.

But something about your nervous demeanour stopped him. He was confused, and quite frankly concerned.

Feeling his own forehead he reasons, “I must be sick…”.

He’ll confront you about your disappearance another day. Just not yet.

Not now.

——————

The next day, you woke up feeling an ache on your neck. This only ever happens when your mother’s protective seal is activated. This has only happened once before in this room without any immediate danger in front of you.

Chills litter your arms, and the hairs stand up. You quickly wrap yourself in a blanket and pull out your wand.

Something’s not right.

You consider using your owl to send your brother, Cairan, a letter, but decide not to. If the presence in this room was powerful enough to activate your seal, it would have no problem intercepting your message.

Cairan is an innocent muggle. You would never forgive yourself if you put him in danger.

With a shaky hand, you reach into your cloak that hung on the foot of your bed, searching its pockets for your two way mirror. Deciding this was your best bet, you whisper-yell at it.

“Cairan!-” “Psst-! Cairan! Wake up-”

You hear rustling on the other end as a hand groggily fishes for the mirror in pants that were discarded to the floor.

He brings the mirror up to eye level, squinting at you.

“Y/n? Whadd’ya need?” He asks.

“Mother’s seal is acting weird, my room’s empty but it’s been glowing since I woke up,” you relay.

Cairan darts up as you say that, eyes widening.

“Y/n, get out of there, NOW-!”

Something crashes through your window, but you don’t have enough time to see what it is. Hurriedly, you dash down the stairs. The girls dorms are in uproar, the sound of glass shattering woke up many students, some screaming in fear. As people fill up the common area, you make way for the door.

Your mind is racing. You wonder if you should go back and help students, but you decide against it. Despite your desire to lend a hand, you ultimately realize that whatever was in that room was there for you.

It had a goal in mind, and found a way past all the protective magic.

The thought terrified you.

Dashing for the carriages, you ask them to take you to hogsmeade.

“We need a permission slip from your-”

You quickly pull out a random receipt from your bag, silently using transfiguration on it out of sight. Handing it off quickly, you take a seat on the carriage.

You were too afraid of messing up an apparition from such a long distance, and no way in hell would your father ever let you go to hogsmeade. Quincey? Sure, no problems there. But when it came to you, he would purposefully shun you from things you wanted to do or see. So you had to make do.

The ride to Hogsmeade left you alone with your thoughts. You wonder if Narcissa and Lucius are alright. Your mind drifts, and your thoughts land on Severus.

Your face grows pale. Leaving him alone in the state he was in yesterday with no one to look out for him…

You hoped Cissy and Lucius would have his back, if push comes to shove.

You couldn’t help but imagine the worst.

————————

As you arrived, you pulled out your mirror.

“Cairan! Pick me up, I’m at hogsmeade,”

“Hold on, you know I can’t use magic— either you apparate here or I come and get you on foot,” he huffs.

You groan, “you’re right, fine, just wait there”.

————————-

As you come to, the foreign smell of cigarettes and beer engulf your senses. You cringe at the intensity of the smells, but weirdly enough, you feel comfortable.

————————-

You’re brought back to the day you caught your brother in the coffee shop. He was a regular at the cafe, he told you. You recall Severus’s protests as you dashed out onto the snow covered streets, chasing after Cairan.

His seal was unmistakable. You would recognize it anywhere. It was identical to yours.

Trapping him at the end of the alley, time stilled.

All you could feel was a surge of grief, excitement, and relief from years worth of guilt.

You could feel him radiating with wariness, but his walls fell the moment you hugged him. Sobbing into your arms, he broke down completely.

Taking you to the safety of his bar, well— as safe as a bar could be, you two spoke about your lives.

You spoke about going to Hogwarts, he spoke about his establishment at Hogsmeade.

You were surprised he managed to make a living in a place where magic was the most valuable asset.

“T’was hard adjusting,” he said, grinning.

“—but people love ta’ drink and I am a man for the people” he says, handing you a glass of apple juice.

You smile, frowning a little in the process.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…” you chime.

“Details shmetails— it’s not like I’m being graded on my literacy skills” he says while rolling his eyes.

You had a lively night, tying loose ends and starting new beginnings.

————-

“Y/n-! Thank goodness you’re okay,” said Cairan.

Leaving from behind the counter, he joined you at the door to the bar where you appeared. The floor creaks as his heavy footsteps reach you.

He hugs you from the side, one hand still holding an empty glass.

“I’ll getcha’ some water,” he says as he guides you to the back.

You two talk in the storage area.

“So you’re sayin’ that cha’ didn’t see a thing?” He asks.

You nod.

He hums for a moment, thinking about what to do next.

“How does stayin’ here for the weekend sound?Just until this whole situation dies down?” He asks you.

Your mind returns to your friends— to Severus. You think about your options for a long time. Your father would swoop in to save Quincey, and Cissy and Lucius’s families would be in uproar if anything happened to them. They were safe.

All you could think about was Severus’s safety.

Would he be okay?

Who would step in to save him?

How could you have left him like that?

The guilt eats away at you, but as you catch a glimpse of Cairan’s face, your heart is torn.

You sigh shakily. “Just until Sunday,” you answer.

You hope that Dumbledore has the situation under control.

————————

Lucius and Severus catch Narcissa in the dining hall, away from the common rooms.

Professors had ushered students to safety as Dumbledore and McGonagall assessed the situation.

As the three sat down together at their usual table, their faces pale.

You were missing.

Narcissa pipes up first.

“I’ll send her an owl,” she says.

“How? We don’t bloody know where she is!” Lucius grits.

As Narcissa and Lucius bicker, Severus balls his fists under the table.

He was annoyed at you- but most importantly, at himself. How could he have missed you so narrowly?

No- he wasn't annoyed, he was worried.

————————

Sunday rolls around as you slept in the guest bedroom above the bar. Cairan’s room was right across yours, with a small bathroom separating them at the end of the hallway.

Walking away from the rooms, you make your way down the stairs. Grabbing a clean glass from behind the counter, you pour yourself some water.

Cairan peeks out from behind the door leading into the storage.

“I made ya’ breakfast, it’s on the counter!” He says happily.

You thank him as you sit on one of the stools. The metal squeaks as you try to make it swivel.

A tapping sound emits from the large glass window outside the bar. You look out to see an owl perched on its ledge, tapping its beak on the glass to get your attention.

You open the entrance door, the ‘closed’ sign swinging as the owl flies in.

Cairan walks to the counter to grab your empty plate, freezing as he watches an owl casually swoop into his bar.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he mumbles.

“Sorry! I don’t know why it came here, I didn’t send anyone anything recently,” you say as the owl lands on the back of a chair.

You take the envelope from its beak, recognizing Narcissa’s handwriting.

Immediately, you could tell who wrote what in the flurry of words on the paper.

———————-

Y/n, we’re worried sick, where have you gone? We couldn’t find any of your belongings after returning to the dorms, did you head off somewhere? It’s not safe right now, you should return as quickly as possible.

Love,

Narcissa

Do you need assistance? I am willing to send an escort if need be, just say the word. I advise that your swift return is necessary, as Narcissa is about to faint.

-Lucius Malfoy

Come back If you don’t come back soon, we’re going to Dumbledore.

S.S.

——————-

Cairan peers over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“A letter from… my friends,” you say.

Rolling the word ‘friends’ around in your head, you felt guilty. You held the letter tightly, mentally apologizing for making them worry.

Running upstairs you rummage through your bag for paper.

“Do you have any paper for me to use?” You yell down the stairs.

He deadpans at you as you lean over the railing, “do I look like I have paper?”.

You’re dumbfounded at his lack of stationary. You knew he was a knucklehead, but this was too much, even for you. Sighing, you make do with a napkin.

———————

To: Cissy, Lucius, and Sev

I’m sorry for making you worry. I promise I’m safe, I’ll be back tonight.

Sincerely,

Y/n B.

————————

The note was short, but it was enough to hopefully quell their worries. You re-seal it in Narcissa’s envelope, handing it back to the owl. Sending it off, you look at Cairan.

“I need to head back before sundown,” you pause. Your face softens as he puts down the glass he was wiping.

“Okay,” he says.

“You’re welcome back anytime,” he smiles gently.

——————————

The carriage ride back was nerve wracking. The pit in your stomach was making the journey increasingly difficult.

As the carriage lulls to a stop, you return to Hogwarts.

[moonlitxeuphoria]

14, 17, and 18 for Zutara asks please!

Hello there, kind stranger!! Thanks for submitting!

(This was a lengthy response so I apologize in advance)

14. How do you feel about “The Southern Raiders”?

- So many intense feelings, that’s for sure haha. That episode is just one of my favorites from the show overall, and not just because of the obvious showcasing of how good Zuko and Katara work together as a pair (though it does play a major part), or them finally having that moment of reconciliation after what happened in the catacombs, but mainly because of the highlighting of Katara’s internal battle over coming to terms with deep seated grief caused by the traumatic loss of her mother. Obvi, that loss is a big part of her character, considering it’s consistently referenced throughout the show but in ‘The Southern Raiders,’ we finally get to see and hear from Katara first hand about that awful day. The episode gives her the room to rage - to feel her and express those dark, ugly feelings - and delve into just how she’s been baring the pain of being the reason why Kya is no longer with them (them - referring to Sokka/Hakoda/Herself). It’s messy and cathartic and just great writing all around on the very real topic of how consuming grief can be; of how you can end up hurting others, be it purposefully or inadvertently, while navigating through it. With that, there’s also the flip side of being able to eventually find peace with the help of someone who truly understands that pain you’re carrying. That with the right person, that load can be lightened until it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

17. How do you think Iroh and Hakoda would react to Zutara?

- Iroh is zutara’s #1 cheerleader aside from Toph and Suki, and that’s just facts. There would be fireworks, music, and endless rounds of tea and food in celebration over the news. That sweet old man would be overjoyed at his nephew/adopted son having found someone who pushes and makes him into a better person and vice versa. Not to mention the endless supply of dad jokes, like come on. DAD JOKES.

- I feel like Hakoda - as easy going as the guy is - would be a little skeptical about zutara at first. Not just from general fatherly concern, but because of the stories Sokka and Katara more than likely filled him in on regarding Zuko during the aftermath of the battle in the crystal catacombs. He eventually comes around though, especially with the added help of getting broken out of prison by his son and the aforementioned ‘Prince of all jerkbenders’ and then later hearing about how the kid put his own life on the line to save his daughter from certain death. Needless to say, Hakoda cashes in on his own set of dad jokes later on at their expense alongside Iroh because seeing Zuko and Katara’s slightly mortified but amused expressions are absolutely worth it.

18. How do you think the Gaang would react to Zutara?

- Toph: this girl would be absolutely unsurprised. She’s the first one to find out and tell them straight up that it “took you guys long enough to figure it out” cuz she’s a walking, talking lie detector and those heartbeats never lie. She clocked them from the get go and takes every opportunity to tease them over it because how is it that the literal blind girl could ‘see’ they clearly liked each other but these two dunces couldn’t. (Deep down they know it’s her way of saying she’s happy for them without sounding too sappy about it).

- Suki: would absolutely be the second one to figure it out and is immediately onboard with it because who doesn’t love a good enemies to friends to lovers storyline. (One of us, one of us) She obviously teams up with Toph in teasing the hell out of them whenever the opportunity arises and the two end up bonding over how equally dense their friends were to the blatantly obvious fact that they’re so into each other. It’s borderline comical, really.

- Side note: In my head, Suki, Toph, and Iroh are the official but unofficial zutara council who get together every so often and gossip about whatever new updates on their favorite couple they may have over tea and cakes. It’s a grand old time for all of them and they all would absolutely lose it when Zuko finally proposes to Katara.

- Sokka: Ah my over dramatic water tribe boy. His reaction is just a thing of beauty, really. He would basically go through the five stages of grief because first off, that’s his little sister and second, that’s his best friend and third, what do you mean they’re together now???!! (I picture it to be like a Ross from ‘Friends’ type of reaction, specifically when he finds out about Monica and Chandler) It’s only made worse when Suki and Toph just say ‘called it’ and continue on like this isn’t the most earth shattering news to ever be released. After he’s processed it though, he’s 100% on board and later joins in on the zutara council meetings with Suki/Toph/Iroh.

- Aang: Oooh, our little flighty boy. This one was a tough one to settle on, let me tell you, buuut I think I figured it out. In my head, I think that Aang would obviously hurt for a little while over the news because Katara is his special person. This girl literally saved his life more than once, has seen him grow up, has supported him through so much, and seeing that person you so deeply love end up with someone else isn’t easy. Never is. He would more than likely keep his distance while he works through his feelings. But then one day, he starts really paying attention to how they interact with each other and Aang feels something in his brain click. Zuko understands Katara, and I mean truly understands her. He thought he understood Katara, that’s why he knew in his heart that he loved her, but seeing the two of them together makes him realize that maybe he doesn’t. His perception of her - her wants and needs - are vastly different from his and that’s probably why nothing ever truly developed between them. Sure there was maybe a spark or two but never anything big enough for a full on flame to burn, ya know. And that realization is what eventually pushes him to be in full, genuine support of their relationship. Because how could he deny her that deep understanding that Zuko is more than capable of providing? (To end on a happy note, he later joins the weekly zutara council meetings and full out cries happy tears when Zuko finally proposes to Katara because oh my god two of his favorite people love each other so much and they’re making it official.) Now keep in mind, this is how I think his reaction would be once he’s had some time to grow and actually understand (and I mean understand) that Katara is her own person and doesn’t belong to him (she’s not an object that someone can simply say is theirs).

This was so long oh my goodness but what a fun set of questions!!! Really got my brain’s gears working overtime to think up of some eloquent-esque answers for each of them 😊💗

[intothewickedwood]

I was just listening to the Out In The Wilds Podcast (amazing podcast by the way. Their analysis of the show is next-level genius! Highly recommend!), and they pointed out that when Gretchen is practicing her presentation in 1x07, they have pictures of all the girls on the island, all of which are close-up images except Shelby’s, whose face is not visible. When I first watched it, it just added fuel to the many Shelby conspiracies I’d had since the pilot (probably enough to rival Leah’s at that point). But then the hosts mentioned something about her parents perhaps being involved and wanting to keep her identity private.

I’ve seen a lot of theories about Shelby’s dad thinking he was sending her to a conversion therapy, but given this field note info detailing how all the girls learned to swim - “Shelby’s dad threw her into the country club pool sink-or-swim style” - it would seem that her dad almost literally threw her in deep water again, sink or swim style.

Field Note Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20210421150514/https://the-wilds.fandom.com/wiki/Trivia#Field_Note_.2361

I think he wanted her to think of nothing but survival on that island, not caring about her safety and hoping it would break or strengthen her. I reckon he was most interested in phase 2 of the experiment where Gretchen may have informed him that someone like Dan would break her down psychologically with his (purposefully and specifically adopted for Shelby) authoritative demeanor. Gretchen may well have told him that the experiment was Christian-based and a more extreme version of a conversion therapy, but I think he knew almost exactly what phase 1 and 2 of the experiment entailed.

He didn’t care how much it would mentally or physically hurt her. He would just do anything not to have a gay daughter. The fact that he knew that the pain of her having permanent teeth implanted before adulthood would be unbearable and insisting on it anyway, I think, shows the lengths he would go to ‘fix’ her.

I think the writing in this show is very intentional. The field note, as well as his willingness for her to go through extreme levels of physical pain, as well as emotional and mental, with not-so subtle threats of disownment from her family and whole community, forcing her to spend a lifetime in the closet or be someone she’s not, and not even acknowledging her best friend's death or her shame regarding that, seem to hint at just how aware he was of the specific hell he was about to put his daughter through.

[divinegrey]

𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 / 𝚟𝚒 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

this is the last of my prompts :)

arcane masterlist

prompt: vi x fem!reader for a reader with a visible scar. i have obvious facial scarring and i rarely find fics that have scarred!readers so i’ve been throwing it around as a suggestion! [requested by @hauntedclaudio]

words: 1023

warnings: blood, flirty vi

In Zaun, scars aren’t designed to be shamed. No, unlike Piltover— the city that demands perfection at every turn, in every crevice— scars in Zaun are the exact opposite. They’re signs of power. A symbol of pride to be worn without a goddamn care.

You earned your scar. You took a goddamn sword to the face and lived to tell the story. No amount of makeup could ever disguise the mark the sword left behind, but why would you want to? That’s your scar. People in Zaun take one look at you and they know not to fuck with you.

It’s a badge of honor, but it’s also a story. One told repeatedly every time someone asks. Sometimes, you change it up— nobody really knows the truth of what happened to your face, but they don’t need to know. Some of them don’t want to know, because if you can survive that, then there’s no telling what you’re capable of.

In all honesty? The only person who does know the complete, one hundred percent accurate story of how you got your scar is your girlfriend, the infamous daughter of the former Hound of the Underground, Vi. It was something you told her over drinks one night in your bedroom, the cold glass of whiskey in your hand and a wild smile on your face as you described every moment.

Vi has scars of her own. None as massive and pronounced like your own, but she understands. She loves your scar and you love hers.

“Did you run into a wall today?” You ask, watching her come in from the door. She cracks her neck from side to side, the heavy THUNK of her Atlas Gauntlets landing on the ground beside the couch. You’ve upgraded since you started dating her— moved from a ratty, one-bedroom apartment in the slums of Zaun to somewhere on the surface. Not in Piltover— you’d rather be dead before ever setting foot in that damned part of town— but you’re somewhere nicer.

Someplace that Vi deserves to be.

“Got fucked by Sevika’s chemtanks,” Vi says, wiping away from blood on her face. You notice it starts bleeding even more, a heavy cut on her cheek. You sigh, placing your gun and oil rag on the dining room table to walk to the bathroom for the first aid kit.

“She’s still deploying them?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hell, it feels like she has hundreds,” Vi says as you return to the living room. You snap your fingers at her so she takes a seat in the chair you were in, and you sit opposite of her. Ever since Silco’s death, Sevika rose up and took over his operations; with less efficiency, you’ll say that, but nonetheless, she’s proving to be a bit of a problem in the past months.

“We’ll find where she keeps those things,” you say, dabbing some alcohol onto a clean rag to clean up her cheek. You click your tongue. “This is a deep cut. Gonna need some stitches for this one, babe.”

“Think it’ll scar?” Vi asks with a slight upturn of her lips as you fetch the sutures and needle. You raise your eyebrow at her.

“Not if you take care of it,” you say, inching closer to thread the needle through her skin after disinfecting the area. You hold her chin firmly to look her in her grey eyes. “Don’t purposefully not take care of it, Vi.”

“But I want a cool scar like you,” Vi grumbles. You snort.

“It’s only this fucked up because I couldn’t get proper stitches,” you remark. “Your little lip scar is plenty cute enough already.”

Vi huffs. “Yours is so cool, though!”

“It’s a scar, Vi.”

“Do you know how hot you look, though?” Vi insists, She winces when you put the needle into her skin and through the other side, tying another stitch together before moving on to the next one. You just glance at her with a slightly interested look, and she goes on. “Like, babe, you walk into the room, and everybody’s got their eyes on you. You’re so beautiful it’s insane.”

“Shut your mouth,” you say. Your cheeks feel a little hot.

Vi grins at you, but you pat her cheek to get her to relax so you can finish stitching up the wound. You lay a bandage flat across it and lay a gentle kiss on it.

“There you go. All better,” you say, shutting the metal tin of medical supplies shut— Caitlyn is a godsend. Knew to send a fully stocked one home with Vi one afternoon and you can’t count the number of times it has come in handy, for both you and Vi. You sigh, taking VI’s hands into your lap. “Thank you for the compliments, babe, but just let this one heal. I promise the next one I’ll consider letting you let it scar, okay?”

Vi puts her hand on your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. She’s smiling into it, but you can still feel the scar on her lip as clearly as you always have. There’s a different, rougher feeling in the divot where skin used to be. You like kissing her more because of it. You won’t deny the thought of her having that scar along her cheek would be nice, but she deserves a better story than being fucked over by one of Sevika’s chemtanks.

She has more scars than you do. You wouldn’t mind any more, but you’d like to at least prevent that if you can.

“Love you, babe,” you whisper.

“Love you more,” Vi says. “Thanks for patching me up, doc.”

“And as your doctor, I recommend that you come and get some rest,” you remark, winking softly and taking her hands to pull her up to her feet. Vi takes after the innuendo immediately, a smile drifting to her face. She pulls off her jacket and throws it on the chair table, leaning down to promptly scoop you off your feet.

You sigh, letting yourself hang off her shoulder. She does this every time.

You won’t get sick of it anytime soon.

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for the prompt! very lovely to write <3

[bellaramseysgf]

Becoming Yours (L.L)

Warning(s); none? Just kinda fluff.

Paring(s); Loki Laufeyson x Fem! Reader!

Summary; Loki meets your parents, and you have a bit of fun teasing

A/n; ahh, I’m so excited for this series! It’ll be a short one I’m thinking like 6 or so parts at the most! Enjoy the first part! <3

••••••••••••

When mobius said you’d be helping him with a gods case you didn’t know he meant Loki Laufeyson. He wasn’t a bad person just not exactly nice, especially to you. He was very patronizing and condensing not purposefully.

You and Loki had moments where you got along it just wasn’t that often. However you begged him to be nice just today, you were going through your home realm and you needed your parents to know you weren’t failing.

“Loki, please just this once. Then you can go back to completely despising my very being.” The god looked at you and huffed glancing at mobius “I’ll do anything, just please Loki” you were practically groveling at this point.

Loki wasn’t one to give in to pleas, especially from women who weren’t under him. You on the other hand, you were special. You treated him like a regular person, not some fucked up god who destroyed his life. If you just needed this one thing who was he to tell you no.

“Fine.” He mutter sounding annoyed and you sighed your arms reflexively wrapping around his chest. “Thank you!” You said before you stepped back realizing what you did. “Sorry” you knew Loki wasn’t a physical touch person.

Mobius had met your parents before, not exactly nice people. They expected way too much from you, you had told him stories of how badly they treated you for choosing to work at the TVA.

Walking into the village people immediately recognized Loki, some panicked and some just ignored him. “Wait here, please” you said stopping into a small place to change. Your parents wouldn’t approve of that outfit and you didn’t wanna give them anymore leverage.

Coming back out in that ugly pink dress had your pride sinking some. “Hey, you look great!” Mobius defended and you glared at him. You continued your walk eventually coming up on your parents house. They were waiting outside for you, of course they were.

“Hey, guys.” You said your parents looking at Loki, shock ridden “oh, uhm this is Loki…and you remember mobius” you spoke kind of closed off in a way…not speaking loudly. “Nice to see you again” Mobius said while Loki just waved.

“This is a joke.” Your father said with a huff “you? Working with a god? That’s ridiculous, tell me, how much did it coast you to bring him here?” You fathers tone was as patronizing as it got. “Or did it not coast you a thing” your mom said implying something else. You took a deep breath “it’s not a joke, I didn’t pay him anything.” You sighed out glancing back at Loki.

“Your daughter isn’t some joke, I assure you.” Loki huffed out. “If anything, she’s doing better then you” he spoke down to them in every way he possibly could. Here you were, doing things,helping people and all they did was sit on their ass and judge you for it.

“You can’t just talk to us like that” your father defended “and you can’t just speak to her like she’s nothing. She’s helped me more then your tiny brains can concept, I assure you challenging a god isn’t in your favor.” He warned and you had to bite back the smile from coming out at the flush of your dads face.

“We need to head out” Mobius said trying to pull Loki before he starts something he can’t finish. Not legally anyway. “Right, of course” he said he leaned down and you gasped feeling him left your up spinning you around as he walked carrying you in his arm. “Loki put me down!” You squealed a giggle slipping past your lips.

Once far enough away he complied siting you down “you’re one hell of a actor” you said and Loki rolled his eyes green flowing over your body as you went back to your clothes before. Black ripped jeans, a TVA shirt and a jacket. “Thank you” you said smiling at him.

Loki held back his smile knowing he made you happy with what he said. It wasn’t a act though, it was true every bit of what he said was true. “Yeah,yeah don’t get used to it.” He huffed walking closer to mobius.

You ran up next to him continuing to walk to the next opening of the realms. “Does this feel weird?” You asked and Loki looked down at you “how do you mean?” He asked and you shrugged “I don’t know. just didn’t you use to own the realms? And now your walking through them as if-” “I wouldn’t finish that sentence.” He warned and you nodded. “It doesn’t feel weird, no. Do you feel weird?” He questioned and you shook your head.

“Mobius?” You asked and he looked over at you “yes, Love?” “What exactly are we getting the artifact for?” You asked and mobius sighed. “So that we can return it to show that Loki is changing for the better” you nodded “right.”

Loki let out a chuckle “what goes on in your brain? How can you not remember that.” You rolled your eyes “well, I’m not brain dead like you” you rebutdtaled. “Oh? Could a brain dead person be such a good actor?” He asked and you just glared at him as his lips pulled into a smirk.

“Play nice” mobius warned “Fuck off” you and Loki both said to him at the same time. You were still glaring at him. “I can’t stand you.” You muttered “feelings mutual” he said.

You huffed and kicked a rock at him it hitting the back of his leg. “Real mature.” He said and you just smiled at him “maturity isn’t something you should be talking about” you said “you didn’t get what you wanted so you tried to destroy New York” you said and Loki rolled his eyes.

“That had nothing to do with maturity” he said and you laughed “right, because you being petty is mature” you said and you were all at once hauled back and onto the your bum. “How’s that for maturity?” Loki asked smiling down at you. “What? Do you like me or something? Gonna push me down on the playground?” You huffed standing up knocking the dust off your jeans.

Loki turned back to mobius and started walking again and you huffed jogging to catch up to the team.

Part 2

[withallthingslove]

What do you want to see happen in this next season of Handmaid's Tale go

I've let this sit in my inbox for weeks because I wanted a lot of time to answer...

Because I have one (1) thing that I want this season

If it does not happen I will riot

Here we go....

We have gotten a lot of June and her daughters and Luke with his fight for Hannah/raising Holly. And we've gotten Nick protecting June a lot and a little bit of his love for Holly.

I want father/daughter angst with Nick and Holly. That is it. And when I say angst I mean ANGST.

How so? Let me set the scene

It's toward the end of season 5, maybe 3/4 of the way through. June has been in Canada trying to get Hannah back, dealing with Serena's BS from Gilead, and has possibly already survived one assassination attempt. There is rising tension and she is wondering if she will have to go underground but is worried about what will happen with Holly. It's starting to become clear that Holly is not as safe in Canada as she thought (thanks to Serena and Gilead).

Serena has ignited her campaign to have Baby Nichole sent back to Gilead. It's gaining traction, and causing hell for June in Canada and Nick in Gilead.

Then one day Nick discovers an actual kidnapping attempt is going to happen against Holly. It is like the scene where he is told to bomb Chicago x10000000000000000000. It's painful. It's angsty. It's the best scene of the season and makes amazing TV.

Now as for the logistics I'm not a TV writer so don't care exactly how it happens but Nick finds a way to save Holly. Maybe he covertly warns those in Canada. Or maybe he publicly refuses to help with the kidnapping attempt. Or maybe he purposefully intervenes so the mission fails.

I would be OK if it's an impulsive thing or a long and drawn out plan that he manages to execute and as a result undermines Gilead. Then he either has to rush underground or gets in trouble, which leads to Lawrence helping him go underground.

I have been sitting on this for awhile (since season 4 lol because I wanted it to happen then) and now I of course can't imagine season 5 without it.

But I think it would work to set up The Testaments, which we know the show is doing. Rising tensions against Canada/Mayday? Check. Holly's safety at risk making her have to go into hiding? Check. Nick being so far underground he needs a feeding tube (or whatever TT quote is)? Check.

I don't think viewers will ever understand Nick's allegiance isn't with Gilead unless something big like that happens, which is why the show needs to stop dragging on the morally gray thing.

It would mean Nick would basically have to make a choice... Keeping up pretenses with his life in Gilead/protecting his wife and household or protecting Holly and ultimately choosing the rebellion. It would force him to have to stop straddling the line and kind of living in both worlds. And I could see it being a tough choice, because protecting Holly will probably ultimately put his household in danger.

But that's what adds to the angst and narratively I just think it's really important to see Nick choosing Holly. Like June said in season 3, he doesn't have that many chances to "be a father to his daughter," and I would like to see him get that kind of chance in a way that makes dramatic TV.

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Leave Excalibur alone. The fate of everyone you love rests upon it.

Pairings: Captain Killian Jones + Emma Swan

Summary: What if Emma never united the swords, and left it alone as Merlin told her to?

As the heroes (and villains as Killian put it) stand in Granny's, waiting for Emma to unite the blades finally.

However, Emma starts hearing a voice in her hand, the same voice she was spoken to as a young 6-year-old in Boston.

'Leave Excalibur alone. The fate of everyone you love rests upon it.'

As Emma made the flame and held the two ends of the sword together, the words echoed in her head.

She then set the two ends down and shook her head. "No, I'm not going to do it," she backtracks some and does a turnaround.

"What are you talking about Emma? It's the only way to get rid of the darkness," Snow walked closer to her darkened daughter.

"If there's anything I have learnt from Storybrooke, there's more than one way," Emma said, the hood of her white cape swinging along with her steps.

Killian started to shake his head, knowing what Emma was thinking. "I'm not losing you, Emma," Killian had never been scared of the 'dark swan'.

"But long before any of this, someone told me not to touch Excalibur, and to leave it alone," Emma said, as Killian wrapped his arms around her.

Emma knew Merlin was starting to smile. "Who was it?" Henry asked, looking up at his darkened birth mother.

Emma raised a finger and pointed to Merlin. "In the cinema, in Boston, 1989, I think it was. I watched The Sword in the Stone, and there was an usher who told me not to take the sword out of the stone," Emma smiled at Merlin, purposefully leaving out the part to do with her stealing a chocolate bar.

Merlin smiled. "I can see you're taking my advice," he smiled, and took Excalibur in his hand, as Regina grabbed the dagger.

"The most powerful wizard in the world? I'm going to have to!" Emma laughed, letting a smile blossom over her face.

Merlin gave her a smile and nodded. "You know what I'm going to do?" Emma asked, looking up at Merlin.

-Storybrooke, Maine, United States of America-

A huge earthquake (which is only felt in town), making signs rattle and car alarms start, as people crash-land on the floor of Granny's Diner.

Two of the five dwarfs that we left behind came running in if Killian had to guess - Sneezy and Bashful? and looked at the group on the ground.

"How long have we been gone?" Regina asked as Robin helped her off the ground.

A pair of heels clicked on the ground, as a light swan came around the corner. Their Saviour, light magic, Emma Swan.

"It was 6 weeks," she had a dress similar to the white one she wore in Camelot, but Killian could see the resemblance to the dress she wore on their first date.

"MOM!" Henry smiled widely, seeing his birth mother back to normal. He stood up quickly and went running to collapse in her arms.

Emma knew that Henry would be heartbroken with what would happen, so she wanted to tell him lightly. "Henry, I wouldn't," Emma softly said, as her son came to a stop.

"What do you mean, Emma?" Snow spoke up, with David's arms wrapped around her, making sure she's ok, with their son wrapped in Snow's tight arms.

Emma let out a sigh, and looked over at Henry, holding her hand out like a high five. "Go on, kid," as that left her mouth, Henry reached out with his own hand, as his fingertips slipped through hers without a flinch from Emma.

"What the hell happened in Camelot?" Killian spoke up, walking over to Henry, who was looking between his hand and Emma's.

"This is why I sent you back. Before you could stop me," Emma admitted, as tears welled up. "It's not something I would have wanted you to see, especially you, Henry," Emma looked down at her son, who had started to crumble into a seat.

Killian knew what she was talking about. "It ended with you, didn't it?" He asked, his heartbreaking. Emma is his happy ending, and now she was gone forever.

With a nod of her head, Snow White let out a sob and collapsed again David, they'd lost their daughter, their firstborn, their baby girl. "Emma," Snow's broken voice drew Emma away from Killian and to her parents.

"Look after him, raise him like you would have for me," Emma smiles tightly, and a couple of lightbulbs went off in her head. "I've met my grandparents. All four of them," she smiles as her parents look up at her. "They say hi, they were watching over me, making sure I didn't make any stupid decisions, maybe that why what I did in Camelot happened," she looked at the ground.

"I'm so glad you got to meet them, Emma," David smiles, remembering his mother and her loving nature.

Emma then looks at Regina. "Graham's alright," the former Evil Queen looked shocked. "He forgives you, and I've been demoted!" She exclaimed, pouting as she explains to Robin, Killian and her father that Graham was the Sheriff prior to her.

She then looks at Henry, remembers the shock she felt, seeing her favourite celebrity in the Underworld. "You want to know who's down there with me, kid?" She asks, who looked up and raised an eyebrow. "The King of Queen. Freddie," she smiles as a large grin takes over Henry's face.

The chat for a short while, about Freddie, and then Emma turns to Killian. "I've met Milah," Emma watches as an unfamiliar glaze goes over Killian's eyes, something she's never seen before with her. "Nice woman, I can see why you loved her," Emma couldn't help but feel a bit broken when she saw a tear roll down his cheek, like he gave up on his quest for vengeance was never over, not until she was out of the picture.

Then she felt an unfamiliar tingle throughout her body, she was going back. "It's time for me to go," Emma said, as a bright light overtook the dinner, leaving behind four notes.

Regina, My Parents, Henry and Killian.

"How sentimental," Zelena sneered, and with a flick of Regina's hand, the sister was back in her cell. 

Regina, There's a lot to say to one person, and the most I can say to you is that I sincerely thank you for taking Henry in and adopting him. I know I could never have raised him the way you have. You may believe yourself to be a "villain", but take one look at our son, the way he acts. That's all you.

Thanks for raising him, and making him the young man I believed him to be, Emma. 

Mom and Dad, I don't know what I could ever say to you, other than I'm sorry. I'm sorry for turning into a dark one, I'm sorry for not forgiving you right away after I found out about Lily and Maleficent. Raise my baby brother the way I know you both wished to have raised me.

I hope you know that I loved you both so much, Forever your little girl, Princess Emma of Mistheaven.

Reading Emma's true title, made Snow White sob so much, holding her son close to her, as another small piece of paper drifted to the floor.

Hey there, I'm your big sister Emma, You may not know who I am, or why you only have a letter and no memories of me. I'm sure mom and dad will tell you millions of stories about me, saving our town from curses, villains and a long trip to a place called Neverland. This is your town, and I'll be watching you so you don't make any stupid mistakes, maybe knock a book or two (just to freak mom and dad out). But, if I could have, I'd be helping you grow up, along with mom and dad, and Henry, and Regina, Robin, Killian, you know. The whole town.

I love you, little Prince, Your big sister, Emma. 

Henry, Kid, I hope you know that I would never leave you behind with these crazies for anything. Sorry, you had to go down to one mom, by you will be fine, believe me. I'll always be watching you (always watching, Mike Wazowski).

I love you more than ever, and if I had to do everything all over again, letting you go the day you were born. I would. Because you came back for me, and we have a family.

Keep an eye on Killian for me, kid? You're my only hope, Mom. 

Killian, Oh my devilishly handsome pirate, you'll always be my pirate, the one I met under a pile of bodies in the Enchanted Forest. Sure, we had a rocky start and all, but it got us where we are. Deliriously in love, crazy about the other, with a house to share. If I'm being honest with myself, I've probably loved you since the second I laid eyes on you. I was just too stupid and insecure to admit it. (Plus my walls were about 4 miles high, miles? Ask Henry).

But, you're the one that I will forever struggle to say "goodbye" to. I've never liked goodbyes, I've always hated them. But I'd say a million goodbyes if I get to say a million and one hellos to you.

There will never be enough words in the galaxy for how much I love you, and how much I wish I could turn back time and make sure we got together sooner.

I love you more than life itself, please don't spend 300 years trying to avenge me, as you did for Milah, be happy (move on, if you must) and I'll see you later, ok, baby?

I'll see you later in life when we're both in death (and don't do it yourself, because I will come up and murder you), because we're going to live forever and have a happy life.

I'll forever be yours, Your Swan, the Pirate Queen.

[peachscribe]

peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

[evening-starlight]

Warm Beers

     McKenzie Shoupe always had strong feelings towards JJ Maybank, but they were always platonic. At least she thought they were. But when she slowly runs out of warm beer excuses for the funny feeling in her stomach whenever JJ's around, Kenzie thinks they might be more.

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New Series Babys!! This one’s OBX because I just watched season 2 and am OBSESSED.

Taglist is open! Dm or Comment to be added.

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

1

Word Count: 1582

---

    The music and laughter greet McKenzie's ears before she can see the party. She smiles to herself, knowing her friends are waiting for her by the fire. The sand gives way under her bare feet as she treks to the boneyard, greeting other people she knows on the way.

    "Shoupe Jr, what's up?" John B. yells, jogging over to Kenzie with an unopened can of beer for her. He swings his arm over her shoulders while guiding her towards the fire, where the rest of the group sits on logs. "Where does daddy dearest think you're at tonight?" Kenzie rolls her eyes as she takes a drink of the beer, making a face afterward.

    "Why the hell is my shit warm, Routledge?" John B. laughs and points at their blonde best friend.

    "Because JJ was in charge of the ice, and what does JJ do best?" Kenzie laughs and waves to the rest of the pouges, not forgetting to flip off her favorite, JJ Maybank.

    "Forgets shit," The group, including JJ, say in unison. JJ flips everyone off but smiles brightly. This was Kenzie's favorite spot in all of Outer Banks. The Boneyard with her four best friends, drinking beers by the fire and poking fun at each other. "So, where does Shoupe think you're at tonight?" JJ asks, making room on his log for his favorite girl to sit.

    Kenzie takes the seat and leans into JJ as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, playing absentmindedly with the strap of her bikini top. "At Sarah Cameron's," Kenzie says, drinking more of the disgustingly warm beer. "I haven't had her over in over a year, and he still thinks we're best friends." She laughs, shaking her head at her oblivious dad. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he lets me use her as an excuse because he knows I'm doing something with the people who give him high blood pressure." JJ scoffs and holds a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

    "Are you trying to tell me that your father doesn't approve of us?" Kenzie pushes JJ away with her elbow with a stupid grin. "I'm hurt, Ken, hurt." The group laughs with a shake of their head at JJ's theatrics. He fakes a pout while Kenzie steals his favorite red hat but really doesn't mind. She's the only person who's allowed to steal and wear his clothes.

    JJ wouldn't say he necessarily has a soft spot for McKenzie Shoupe, but if she asked him to jump, he'd ask how high. It's a mystery how the deputy's daughter and the town's bad boy became such good friends. All they know is that they can't go a day without each other.

    Kenzie lays her head on JJ's shoulder as she continues to joke and talk with her friends. An annoying feeling in his stomach makes him groan, gently pushing the girl off his shoulder. "Hey, you okay, J?" She asks, hand already feeling his forehead. The feeling gets worse, and he feels his face heating up.

    "I think the warm beer did something. My stomach isn't feeling too well right now," He mumbles. "I'm heading back to the chateau." He gets off the log and smiles at his friends. "I'll see you all up there later." JJ moves to leave, and Kenzie gets off her seat too.

    "I'm coming with you. I got to pee anyways," She says, shrugging. JJ lays his arms across her shoulder with a quick goodbye to the group, and they begin the short walk to the house. "You sure you're okay, J? You don't usually leave a party that soon after it starts," Kenzie worries. JJ would stay until the sun came up and after many boot and rallies. He was the party-going king.

     "Yeah, something just felt really off. But at least I learned the warm beer lesson," He jokes. McKenzie sighs with a nod. "You didn't have to come with me, you know? I'm a big boy who can take care of myself." She laughs and pushing him slightly away, only for him to push her back harder, nearly tripping her. The small amount of booze coursing through their system makes the situation funnier.

    "I know you can, but I honestly had to pee like a racehorse," She laughs, relief filling her as she sees the chateau coming into view. Kenzie should have honestly peed before she left, but she was too excited to think about it. The thought of seeing JJ again fueled her forgetfulness.

    "Well, Ken, I'm sorry to say, but you'll have to wait in line. I have to pee," JJ says before taking off in a sprint towards the house.

    "You mother fucker," She yells back, laughing as she chases after him. They wrestle and yell at each other as they trip up the steps until Kenzie gets the lead and slams the door in JJ's face. It won't be a long hold, but long enough to get to the toilet first.

    Kenzie barely reaches the restroom before JJ caught up to her, narrowly missing her waist as she dashes into the bathroom, already pulling down her pants. "Suck my dick, JJ," She laughs, sighing in relief as she finally gets to empty her bladder.

    "Only if you ask nicely, Ken," JJ prompts, grabbing a step stool from under the counter and standing on it like he's about to empty himself in the sink.

    "Oh my God, are you going to piss in the sink?" Kenzie asks in disgust. JJ smiles at her and starts unzipping his jeans. "Holy fuck, you're so unsanitary, Maybank."

    "Well, then look away," He exclaims, still undoing his pants to pee. "Unless you want to see my dick," He adds. McKenzie gags, shielding her eyes with her hand. "Oh, come on, you can't say you're not the least bit curious," JJ prompts as Kenzie hears the liquid splashing in the sink.

    "If you've seen one dick, you've seen them all, JJ." Kenzie jokes before wiping herself and pulling up her pants, looking the opposite of JJ.

    "I would like to disagree on that one, Ken," JJ rebuttals, situating himself back in his pants. The odd feeling is gone, so JJ chalks it up to having a full bladder. "See, dicks are just like pussys," He starts but stops when he sees Kenzie following him out without washing her hands. "Aren't you going to wash your hands?"

    Mckenzie raises an eyebrow as she says, "In the sink, you just pissed in? Not until it's bleached and gutted." JJ laughs and lets her lead them to the kitchen. "You were saying? About dicks and vaginas?"

    "Right," JJ starts again while he hops on the kitchen counter, watching Kenzie wash her hands in the sink there. "They're all different in their own beautiful ways." Kenzie chuckles at her friend's drunken analogy.

    "Is that your way of comforting yourself because you have a small peen?" Kenzie asks, turning around towards the boy, who immediately starts to protest. "No, no, it's okay. Like you said, everyone is beautiful in their own way," Kenzie jokes.

    "You want to see it and judge for yourself?" JJ asks, jumping off the counter, hands already on his button. Kenzie laughs, shaking her head before looking at the opening door. Kiara stops in her tracks, causing the other two boys to bump into her.

    "What's going on in here?" She asks, eyeing the situation. Kenzie is red and smiling while JJ's hands are on the hem of his pants.

    "JJ's trying to show me his micro-peen," Kenzie quips. JJ growls and lunges at her, causing her to squeal out a laugh and dodge his attack. She runs through the living room, laughing maniacally at JJ's continuous curses and insults while the rest of the group gazes on.

    JJ finally catches Kenzie, pinning her to the ground with her hands above her head. They're both panting and smiling at each other. "If someone didn't have a small penis, they wouldn't be so worked up over me calling them tiny dicked," Kenzie says, shrugging as best as she can in her compromising position.

    "Would you two just kiss already and stop this stupid thing you got going on? I'm tired of watching the constant pining," John B. sighs, plopping onto the couch. Kenzie suddenly feels claustrophobic with JJ on top of her, her heart beating faster and throat closing up.

    "Off," She mumbles, moving her wrists out of JJ's grasp as he slowly dismounts her. They stay silent as John B. puts turns on the TV, ignoring the awkward tension he caused between the two friends. JJ tries to hand Kenzie his hat back, knowing it's her favorite keepsake of his. She shakes her head timidly, squeezing between John B. and Pope, with her legs to her chest.

    "Why'd you guys leave?" JJ asks, setting the hat on the coffee table and planting himself next to Kie on the second sofa, avoiding Kenzie's watchful eye.

    Kie shrugs, bumping shoulders with JJ purposefully. "It's not a party without our party king there. Besides, too many Kooks showed up and ruined the vibe."

    McKenzie tries to ignore the angry feeling in her stomach, watching the two friends talk. She doesn't even know why she feels that way, but it only grows as JJ leans on Kiara. So much so that Kenzie has to avert her gaze to the animated show on the television, legs still clutched to her chest.

[myriadxofxmuses]

👀 Emily and Jace , Oscar and Clare, Lucian and Ethan

From X

"With Jace gone everything just feels so....pointless and empty. It didn't even feel like this with Eric and we were together four years," she told her brother, hugging her arm for comfort that never came.

Oscar sighed sadly. He hated seeing his sister so upset and he hated it even more when there wasn't anything he could do to alleviate it. He grabbed a couple beers put of the fridge and handed her one after opening it.

"He thinks I lied to him Oscar," she said finally finding his eyes. "That I knew about you and Clare. Not only knew about it but purposefully kept it from him. I would never do that. Especially to him."

"I know."

"And now he's gone and I don't know what to do ot say to get him back. Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" Emily asked as she played with the bottle in her hand, sadly taking a sip as he answered.

"He'll forgive you. He will. This has nothing to do with you and he knows that. He's probably just confused," he asured her. "Not only did Clare show up out of the blue, but she has a kid now and has yet to give Jace any kind of explanation for her disappearing act. Imagine how the guy must feel. Just give him some time," he added, taking a drink of his own beer.

"Yea. I guess you're right," she agreed halfheartedly. "I just really miss him," she admitted quietly, her heart aching for Jace's presence.

She took another drink and let the silence grow as her thoughts rallied around ways to mend the fracture in her relationship with Jace.

"Speaking of Clare," Oscar said breaking through the quiet. "I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't say anything until now," he apologized, clearing his throat and his brow furrowing in concentration. "I should have come straight to you, but I, hmmph," he huffed quietly at the irony of what he was discussing with her. "I figured she was just trying to pin it on me, so I assumed it wasn't mine. She clearly didn't believe I couldn't have kids," he started explaining.

"Because you can't," she corrected him, taking a drink.

"I can Em. Now anyway. She said something that stuck just before she left and I went and got tested. Turns put I may just get that big family after all," he admitted with only slight happiness in the thought.

"So what? Are you gonna just go and get a bunch of baby mommas because Clare sure as hell won't have anymore with you."

"No shit," he said with a raise of his brow, drinking. He sucked the remaining drops of alcohol from his lips and ran a hand through his beard. "How fucked up is it that I still sort of want to?" he asked rhetorically.

"You can't be serious," Em told him honestly, shocked that he would even think that. "You're late night booty calls have caused more damage than any deal you and dad ever had. You've fucked things up with Clare too much and now its rubbed off on me and Jace. There's no going back to what you te thought you had. You need to let this one go Oscar," she advised him, her intentions pure and from the heart.

Sadness dampened his eyes and he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Usually Em always sided with him, but surprisingly she was taking Clare's side in all of this. A quiet scoff fell from him as he tried to process his shock.

"What if I can't?"

"You'll just make everything worse."

He sighed frustratedly and leaned back into his chair, reeling in his growing ire over her position.

"Then maybe you should take your own advice for Jace. Let this one go."

"Oscar...I --"

"Doesn't feel so great to hear does it? How can you expect me to just let my soul mate go when you can't even deal with being away from yours for a few days?"

"Alright. I was wro--"

"Try doing it for years. Years Emily. Clare ripped herself and our daughter out of my life without so much as a goodbye.  I never even got the chance to try and explain myself and now that I can, everyone just expects to walk away. Well, its not that easy," he rambled on, his anger growing rapidly by the second.

"Calm down. Alright. We can talk --"

"I can't just give up on someone I love," he spat out before realizing what he'd said. 

Immediately he deflated with realization, Emily's mutual shock evident on her face. "Love?" she asked quietly after a few moments of tense silence.

A huff fell from him and his eyes glazed over momentarily staring at nothing, only focusing once he found Emily's. "Love," he reiterated solidly. "But it doesn't really matter now does it? She clearly hates me," he added letting his gaze fall from her, momentarily glancing down at his beer before taking another drink.

-----

Ethan scribbled his name on the roster and slapped the visitor's tag to his shirt with a smile, he was about to see his idol. His glee confused the guard and he couldn't help his curiosity.

"You're about to come face to face with one of the sickest whackos we have in here. Why are you so happy about that?"

Ethan's smile faltered when the man insulted Lucian. He had no idea the genius of their resident 'whacko'. He disgusted him.

"I'm a psych student," he lied. "I'm doing my dissertation on the mind of the killer. You know, the psychos like Lucian," he said leaning in, his rage over the false accusation of Lucian's mental stability turning his stomach. He couldn't believe he actually muttered those words. Sometime he really hated having to fit in.

"I want to see what makes them tick," he added lowering his voice, his evil trickling through. The guard swallowed thickly.

"He's one of the few left alive that agreed to talk with me," he said after a few tense moments, straightening back up and falling right back into his facade of assimilation. "Plus money helps grease the wheels a little," he joked to break the mood. The guard laughed nervously. "Seriously though, is he really as, you know," he motioned to his head.

"No doubt about it. That one is nuts," the guard answered, his confidence slowly regaining traction.

"Word is they don't really know how many victims he had. That it could be hundreds, but they have no proof. Is that true?" Ethan asked, his excitement growing.

The guard nodded. "And he's keeping quiet. Won't say shit about shit."

"Ethan Harrison," a second guard called out, Ethan turning to find him, raising his hand momentarily in reply.

"The last few visitor's couldn't get anything out of him," thenguard continued. "But who knows kid? Maybe you can get him talking."

Ethan tapped the desk twice and gave him one last smile before heading off for his escorted walk to meet Lucian.

[babygirlrage]

Todoroki Clan Reader dating Deku

This was inspired by @i-cant-sing and her take on the platonic relationship between the Reader and the Todoroki clan. I just put my own take on it as I was wondering what would happen if Todoroki Reader was dating Deku. It's probably not as good as I thought that it was going to be, but I hope that it's enough.

It's something that no one saw coming.

When Shoto found out that Midoriya had developed an interest in his baby sister, everything had changed. Although he was thankful that his classmate and friend helped open his eyes to his quirk, helped support him during their time at UA, he cannot accept that Midoriya is courting his sister.

It's even worse when the rest of the family find out.

Enji is miffed off. The boy that hurt himself in his fight with Shoto is trying to date his little one under his nose? No way. Not happening. Will more than likely call a family meeting that nobody really wants to attend but they suck it up if it's a matter concerning you.

Rei is wondering why you need a boyfriend in the first place. Was your family not enough that you felt the need to enjoy someone else's company? She will then take it upon herself to treat you to Mother-Daughter dates with Fuyumi. Purposefully makes sure that almost all of your time is spent with herself or her family members.

Touya/Dabi likes to pretend that he doesn't really give a damn in regards to you, but will definitely corner poor Izuku on his way home in an abandoned alleyway to intimidate him into breaking up with you. For a while he thinks it works until he sees them kissing under the stars on a bench by the beach. (Totally didn't threaten him with bodily harm on the poor boy's way home, don't worry baby sis he is still alive. Mostly.)

Natsuo is upset. Why do you feel the need to hang out with a little boy when your big brother is here to give you all the affection and attention you need? Will purposefully crash the girls date despite Fuyumi's protests and proudly partakes in a couple of the girlie activites. Acts as a buffer for when Rei and Fuyumi become a little too much, lets them turn the attention to him while he holds you in his lap, swatting their hands away.

Fuyumi will go over the top on the Mother-Daughter dates that she has with you. Fancy spas, shopping for things that you see in the windows, going out to nail salons to get your nails done professionally. Basically anything that she can think of to make you feel like the princess you are in hopes that you will forget all about the green haired boy.

Shoto is unrelenting and instigates fights whether they be verbal or physical with Midoriya that it's starting to make their classmates uncomfortable and beginning to piss Bakugou off. Shoto doesn't even hesitate to cut into Midoriya's self-esteem, telling him that he is not good enough to date his sister, that his sister is probably only dating him because she's a good person that doesn't know how to say no, that he constantly hurts and damages himself how can he trust his baby sister with someone like him? Shoto cuts deep into Midoriya, but clearly it's not enough because the broccoli haired bastard keeps coming back to you.

You are none the wiser to what your family is doing. You have no idea that your poor boyfriend is being threatened and bullied by most of the males in your family. You just think that it's cute as to how hesitant he is around you. You don't know that when Rei and Fuyumi take you, with Natsuo tagging along, for extended times so that you will have less time with your boyfriend. Nor do you know that more often than not they steal you away on the days the both of you are supposed to have dates.

Joke's on them when you start inviting him over every single day because you want to spend more time with him.

Deku knows that as soon as he steps foot into your house that it's a war zone, and that the only thing he can do is hold your hand tightly while you walk him through hell.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

This might be a tad angsty but in your microcanon, what's the nature of the relationship between Macavity and Jemima? Since she was born and grew up a little while Demeter was still with him, what's her impression of him?

Jemima's impression of and relationship with her biological father is very mixed and complicated. tl;dr - Jemima's extreme empathy levels make it so that she can't help but try to find good in people, even when there isn't much left to be found.

And if that weren’t enough, Jemima harbors the very real fear of turning out to be just like him.

For starters, she didn't know that Macavity was her father until closer to the tail end of her time with him. For the first month of her life, Jemima's whole little world was too loud, too bright, and too much. Shapes and colours swirled in her mind restlessly, every touch grated against her skin like sandpaper, bugs crawled under her skin, the emotions of those around her stung the violently at back of her throat, but she could put no name to any of these things. She knew nothing of her situation, of the blood running through her veins, except the startling reality of her own existence. She could only cry until they quieted down.

In the weeks that followed, everything Jemima knew revolved around her mother and the handful of cats who drifted in and out of her field of vision like shadows; she remembers crooked torn ears and red handprints and black and orange stripes. She remembers how they smelled and what the timbers of their voices sounded like buzzing in her skull. These were safe cats - they must be. She cannot taste her mother's fear when they are around her.

Macavity showed very little interest in his heirs unless they showed promise in the magic department (Macavity is obsessed with legacy almost as much as anything else). And even then, it wasn't so much an interest in *them* as it was in their ability. Still, Macavity made a point of seeing her once in her first week, as he did with the others (a kitten useless as an heir has other uses, afterall). Demeter holds her breath when he reaches to touch her, bites so hard on her tongue she tastes blood to keep from gathering Jemima away from him.

There is something in Jemima that shows promise. A lot of promise. He senses the magic in her blood is strong. He is pleased. Tendrils of well done, slither through Demeter's head, leaving ringing in their wake.

Jemima does not remember this visit, does not remember any different cat, but she feels disquiet when her mother whispers of that time to her. When she closes her eyes and concentrates, she feels the tip of a claw press under her milk wet chin, lifting her head to the light.

On two separate occasions, when she was very little, Demeter found Jemima curled between Macavity's forepaws listening with childlike innocence as he spoke to her in a low, honeyed tone, so sickly and saccharine it made the hairs at the back of Demeter's neck stand up. She is never there by Demeter's own choice. He located her, a sheep strayed from the flock, or has lured her purposefully from her bed, to await the vicious warning he has for her mother just behind the guise of the smile twisting his muzzle. Jemima is not there for fatherly affection; she is there as a threat. As an...encouragement of Demeter's obedience.

Kittens, as I said, are useful in other ways.

Both times, she clings to Jemima when he allows her to scamper back to her, trying to keep the bile down as the kitten's little voice meows an innocent "bye bye", prompting another smirk from under his whiskers. Demeter takes her away as fast as possible, nodding her understanding. It is no longer her own life Macavity is playing with. She cannot afford to make mistakes.

Jemima is under constant watch after that.

Or at least as much as they possibly can

The first time Jemima met her father consciously, that she can remember, she did not know he was her father. She didn't even know that this was Macavity; this was the cat that all the others whispered about. But she knew something was not quite right about the cat towering before her. She was caught sneaking around one of the grand ballrooms, and taken to him by one of the queen henchcats, who Jemima only remembers as smelling of brine and hunger. The henchcats know better than to screw around with Macavity's favoured heirs - that was his domain and his alone.

"Good evening, Jemima." His voice sounds familiar, but it is not settling or comforting like other familiar voices in Jemima's life. This voice, artificially warm, has an edge to it, as though it is wound so tight it could snap at any moment.

His skin seems to shift and bubble as he leans down to look her in the eye. He reeks so much of authority that Jemima nearly chokes on it. Macavity does not look whole - he looks like so many segmented pieces stitched together. Jemima does not see the image he attempts to project forward to her - the gentlecat made to look unthreatening and meek. What she sees is altogether indescribable and pulsing with magic; what she sees is right through the cracks in Macavity's mask.

He is immediately unsettled by this.

She cannot put her paw onto why, but something in her mind sparks to life as she continues to stare at him - like her brain is filled with fireworks. It scratches around in her skull, prompting her to pull absentmindedly at one of her ears.

"Sneaking around is very unbecoming of a young queen, wouldn't you say?"

Jemima does not answer. She feels as though all the words have been stolen from her mouth.

"Where is your mother?" He is angry, but he seasons it well with formal niceties. Jemima can taste it plain as day.

Jemima feels how somecat's grip trembles on her upper arm when they slide up behind her. She knows this cat - has seen the dull glow of his aura many a time. Alonzo had looked as though all the blood had drained from his body when he recognized who had been brought before the Mystery Cat - when he too quickly affirmed that he would take her back to Demeter before Macavity had even asked. There is ice beneath the other cat's lashes as he glances up at the tom, interruption catalogued away for later, and Jemima catches the spark of irritation before he straightens.

"Sleep well, daughter," the strange cat calls after the pair, and Jemima feels the connection sever, leaving behind a faint buzz in her ears.

"What the hell were you doing?" Alonzo whispers when they were significantly out of earshot. He does not pause in his haste down the hall; he does not bother to censor himself.

Jemima ignores him. "Who was that?"

"That's the boss," Alonzo's voice drops. "That's Macavity."

Macavity. She knew that name. "Why did he call me daugh-ter?"

Alonzo's aura seems to go even paler, but he still does not pause. If anything, he walks faster. "Ask your ma," he mutters. "And don't let me catch you sneaking out again, you hear me?"

She is told, after a scolding, her mother's voice laced tight with hysteria, who Macavity is. The connection she felt, scratchy and unsettling, was all at once fully understood. That was her father.

Her father was Macavity.

In the days after, she can't stop thinking about what she saw. She wants to ask questions, but none of the adults around her want to answer them. She remembers that segmented face, the black sunken eyes, the wild red mane. She peers at her own reflection in the basement puddles and cracked boudoir mirrors and recognizes his face staring back at her. She blinks and her eyes turn black. Then back to blue.

Though she is too young to realize just yet, it's around this time she understands why Demeter and Bombalurina sometimes look at her the way they do. Why Demeter cries quietly in the middle of the night when she thinks no one can hear her. They see his face looking back at them.

And this is where Jemima's anxieties start to blossom.

The second time she is put face to face with her father, Macavity specifically requests her mother's presence and asks for Jemima by name. Demeter pushes Jemima behind her slightly when Macavity motions her closer, but a wave of his paw later and Demeter's grip on her shoulder slackens, and her arm is shoved firmly at her side.

Jemima trembles with her mother's defiance, but fully shakes with her fear. She wants to echo the sobbing she hears in Demeter's chest.

Macavity lifts her chin, twisting her head this way and that as he asks her questions. They are simple questions - about her dreams, about her nightmares, about the colours she sees sparking around other cats' ears. All the while, she feels that same sparking buzz in her teeth. She doesn't want to answer, but she does; it pours from her in buckets and she can't help it.

As Macavity listens quietly to her latest nightmare about a shadowed cat with white eyes and his jaw hung loose, too many teeth in his mouth, Jemima catches a flash of...something in Macavity's eyes. But it is gone as quickly as it surfaces.

When she finishes, he seems satisfied, and sends her off to play while he "Speaks with her mother privately."

Jemima hesitates beside her mother, not wanting to leave her alone, but scampers off to find Jerrie and Teazer when Demeter nods tightly in her direction.

She doesn't want to be alone either. Not with the buzzing in her head.

Every interaction afterwards, Jemima senses more and more of these threads of....something in Macavity that loop round and round but don't quite connect. It is not goodness like she senses in other cats. At least, she doesn't think it is. It is not particularly fear either - though it has shades of it. Honestly, she doesn't know what it is. And this, somewhat, prevents her from ever feeling fully afraid of him, even when she absolutely knows she should be.

It's incredibly confusing for her. He's never hurt her, never threatened her directly, but she knows how he treats other cats - how he treats other kittens. She's heard him yelling, seen glimpses of what he's done (more than she should have ever seen in her short lifetime). She sees as his flesh crawls and his eyes change. She sees the scars on her mother's face, the bruise around Alonzo's muzzle, the way Bombalurina favours her left leg. How Mungojerrie avoids looking most cats in the eye and Electra claws uselessly at her ringing ears.

She knows, deep in her heart, it's all his doing. This place was all his doing.

Jemima grows to hate his attention turned on her, on her friends, on her family - feels like an ant under a magnifying glass.

And yet...

She collects these loops and holds onto them. They are not frequent, but they exist. She cannot think of Macavity as her father - it feels wrong to do so when she already has her mind set otherwise - but her empathy is so high, that she can't help thinking of him as a cat like any other. A cat who has done terrible things and made horrible mistakes - but a cat nonetheless.

She cannot ever forgive him for what he's done, and will never forgive him, but sympathy swells in her breast all the same. The belief that every cat, no matter where they came from and what they had done, perhaps still has shades of the *capability* of goodness somewhere in them, nags at her every time she runs into him from then on out.

When they escape to the Junkyard, a few months later, Jemima is given a clearer picture of who Macavity is - but more importantly, who Macavity *was*. She notices how cats' attitudes change when they figure out who her father is, hears how their voices dip with pity. Munkustrap tells her about his brother, Old Deuteronomy shares a memory through her temple, and Bombalurina gets comfortable enough to speak of him when they were young, like Jemima and her friends were.

And a whole new fear blossoms in Jemima - if Macavity wasn't always bad, wasn't always a monster...if he had *become one* with time, did that mean that one day, she would be a monster too? 

If all cats had the capability to be good deep down, did that mean that all cats had the capability to be bad just as much?